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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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possiamo-andare · 4 years

Text

Overdue: JJ Maybank

JJ x Y/N

MASTERLIST

word count: 2.4k

summary: Y/N has been on the waiting list to check out a library book for months. JJ has the long-overdue book. The two coincidentally meet one day at the library.

a/n: ugh I feel like all the fics I write are written at 1am lol. This one is not edited yet but i hope you like it!!

If there was one place in the world JJ Maybank knew he'd never step foot in, it was a library. Although more intelligent than he gave himself credit, he felt as though he had a reputation to upkeep and certainly walking through each shelf of his school's library would tarnish his record. So, every week before Pope entered the library for study hall, JJ would write down a list of books he needed Pope to take out on his card. Pope thought the entire idea was completely stupid, thinking no one would care whether JJ read books or not but the boy was convinced. Granted, some people may be surprised but kids in highschool were too worried about embarrassing themselves than to pay attention to anyone else. Unfortunately JJ did not realize this and so, without fail, Pope rented books for him.

What seemed like a foolproof plan quickly escalated into more. Usually Pope showed up everyday to school but one day, almost a year after JJ had first asked him for the same favour, Pope caught a big which turned out to be strep throat. He didn't show up to school for two weeks. This meant his books were overdue by two weeks. Every week was a five dollar fine and now, on account of bot only Pope's illness but also JJ's fear, JJ owed the school librarian ten dollars.

The second Pope showed up to school two weeks later, JJ pounced. He had been nervously waiting around for two weeks and had grown restless. After two weeks, teachers went around to the students classrooms and called there names. Everyone would know JJ had rented Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen and he would look like a clown.

To you and I, this seems like a stupid fear. But you have to realize where JJ is coming from. His entire life, his father had made him feel stupid. As if he didn't deserve an education because he wasn't as smart as everyone else. If he had been nurtured like Pope or Kie had, maybe he wouldn't be so scared to rent a book. But now, the damage was done and the book was overdue. It would take a miracle for JJ to not be embarrassed that he actually enjoyed reading. It transported him to another place. A place where there were no demanding fathers or rotten Kooks. Just him and the protagonist. Books gave him an escape.

Pope understood how JJ felt and wanted to help his friend, although he thought the whole thing was stupid. He would've returned Pride and Prejudice himself if it were not for the newly enforced rule the librarian had.

"The person whose card it was rented on has to pay the fine." Pope explained, leaning against the wall beside the library doors.

JJ sighed, running his free hand through his hair. He had his book under his short like it was some sort of contraband. "When did this happen?"

Pope shrugged. "A month ago."

JJ sighs louder this time, lightly banging his fist against the wall. "So, just say you're me."

Pope shook his head, indignant. "No way. If I get in trouble, they'll never let me back inside. Just swallow your pride and pay the fine."

JJ scoffed, looking around before taking Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice out from underneath his shirt. "Yeah? And say what? That me, JJ fucking Maybank, just decided to read a romance novel one day?"

Pope shrugged again, glancing to the clock. He was gonna be late on his first day back. "Isn't that what literally happened?"

JJ frowned for a moment. "Yes. Well, no. It's not just a romance novel, it's so much more than that."

Pope rolled his eyes. "That's not what I'm talking about. Just be discreet. Trust me no one will notice."

Famous last words, JJ thought. He knew Pope was not about to break the rules for him. At least not these rules. The library was Pope's safe space and JJ didn't want to take that away from him. So, doing as Pope said and swallowing his pride, JJ stuffed the book back under his shirt and opened the library door. As he quietly closed the door behind him, he realized that no one looked up from their books. JJ exhaled, clearly pleased no one noticed him enter. As discreetly as JJ could, he tiptoed his way to the librarian's front desk where he knew he could return his overdue book. The woman standing behind the desk was nothing like the librarians he saw on tv. This lady was older but she couldn't be older than 45 and she wore ripped jeans and a loose cardigan. Her hair was dyed a dark black and glimmering pink gloss was painted on her lips. Seeing this as a sign she would not judge him, JJ scurried towards the woman. When he finally approached her desk, she looked up from her book with a smile.

"What can I do for you?" She politely whispered.

JJ looked over his shoulder for a moment, making sure no one was watching. He slowly looked back around to the librarian. "I need to return an overdue book." His voice was just above a whisper.

The librarian nodded, typing on her computer for a moment before looking back to JJ. "Student 1D number?"

JJ leaned forward, glancing around the room for a second time. He quietly told the woman his ID number before she pressed enter. She read his file before turning to him with the same smile on her face.

"This is your first offence," she paused for a moment, clearly thinking she had made a funny joke. "So I won't charge you. Pride and Prejudice is such a good read, I don't blame you."

Much calmer than he was when he first entered, JJ's shoulders slumped. He had been so nervous, and for what? Finally he reached under his shirt once more and pulled out the book. With a smile on his face, he quietly thanked the librarian. Unfortunately, this is not where the story ends. Seconds after the book lands on the desk, JJ hears a voice from behind him. He doesn't even have time to take his hand off the cover of the book before someone else's hand is on top of his. This hand is smaller than his but stronger as they push down on JJ's knuckles.

"Jane, I've been waiting for this book for three weeks! I put my name on a waiting list so you can't give it to him." A girl a little shorter than JJ stands beside him, her voice not as nearly as low as it should be. Considering she's in a library, JJ's surprised she's raising her voice at all.

"He's just returning it Y/N." The librarian, Jane, explains.

JJ thinks he's out of the woods but that's not true. When the girl beside him figures out he's been the one making her wait, her hand only presses harder against his. He whimpers, trying to move his hand but fails. He finally looks to the girl who is as strong as the fucking hulk.

When their eyes meet, JJ feels himself fall apart. JJ knows that as a teenager, everything he feels is heightened but in that moment, he felt his heart give out. She was beyond beautiful. She wasn't like most girls he dated but at the same time, JJ didn't have a type. For the first time in awhile, JJ was speechless as he watched this beautiful girl glare at him.

"You know there's a due date for a reason?" She pressed, her brows only pulling closer together.

JJ only nodded, trying to compose himself. He seriously was trying to look for the words.

When JJ didn't respond, Y/N only rolled her eyes and continued to lecture. "My copy was ruined and I needed this one. What do you have to say for yourself?"

JJ gulped, looking to the librarian who already had her nose back in her book as she let JJ and Y/N sort things out. He looked back to Y/N and finally spoke. "My hand hurts."

Y/N frowns, not understanding him for a moment before looking down. She looks in horror as she sees her hand pressed against his. She had been so angry when she saw JJ enter the library with the book noticeably under his shirt that she forgot her manners. Embarrassed, she let go and she was surprised to see JJ lift his hand off the cover of the book as well. Their eyes locked to each other again and now Y/N had felt had JJ had first felt.

She of course knew who JJ was. This was the last place she thought she'd meet him in but she was more surprised by how her stomach felt as she looked into his blue eyes. Her stomach was making giant flips and she knew what that meant. She had crushes before but she forced herself to swallow it down. Not on JJ Maybank. She wouldn't allow herself to crush on such a player.

"Sorry." She frowned, clasping her hands together. She reminded herself why she was here and finally veered back on topic. "You can only take books out for a week."

JJ nodded, a small smile on his lips now. He had learned how to tell if a girl liked you and he knew, by the way she began to avoid eye contact and when she tucked her hair behind her ear, that she found him just as beautiful as he found her.

"I'm sorry." He smirked, leaning his elbow against the front desk.

Y/N finally snapped out of the daydream, realizing exactly what JJ was trying to do. She had met enough guys like JJ to know him smirking and leaning so nonchalantly against the desk meant he was trying to flirt with her. And she would not allow it.

"Nope." Y/N shook her head, picking up the book from the desk. She placed it underneath her armpit before turning around and trying to make her way out of the library quickly. "Jane, charge this to my account."

JJ was confused at first, following behind the pretty girl. "No what?"

Y/N scoffed, placing her hand on the doorknob but not opening the door. She promised herself after she exited this room, she would ignore JJ. She was sure he would not want to be seen with her and she would feel better if her friends knew nothing about this encounter. Not because she was embarrassed but just because they would ask too many questions.

"No, I'm not doing this with you." Y/N explained, watching as JJ chuckled to himself.

"I'm not doing anything. We're just two friends talking." JJ pressed, his confidence spiking when he receives a little push back from this beautiful girl. If he truly knew that she wasn't interested, he wouldve left her alone. But he knew she didn't want that. If she really didn't want to entertain him, she would've already been out the door and down the hall.

"One, we're not friends. Two, I know you JJ. You came here discreetly to return a novel people will mistake for a romance novel. Now, you're trying to hit on me." Y/N speaks bluntly, wanting to seem unbothered by his attraction to her. She wants to seem as if she gets this kind of attention all the time when in reality, she's never had a boyfriend.

She was sure fooling JJ. "Ah, I see. So you know everything about me."

Y/N shrugged, her hand still not leaving the door knob. "As much as anyone else."

"Well then, you don't know much." JJ counters, the smirk never leaving his face.

"Like what?" Y/N presses, wondering what he is going to share.

"That I save most of my cheesiest pick up lines for the prettiest girls." JJ confesses, a soft smile now on his lips.

Y/N, although her cheeks hot from the compliment, hides it by rolling her eyes. "Like what?"

JJ stops and thinks for a moment. He knows he really needs to nail this because she is finally listening to him for real. "Like... girl, you must be a library book because I can't stop checking you out."

A smile appears on Y/N's face and as much as she wants to hide it, she can't. "That's stupid."

JJ nodded. "Fair point, but it made you smile."

Y/N shrugs, finally turning the knob to open the door. When it's open, she looks to JJ. Talking a deep breath, she speaks. "Okay JJ. Tell me what you want from me."

JJ shrugs, a soft smile written on his lips. He looks out the door and down the hall, watching as Kie and Pope laugh at something the other said. He finally looks back to Y/N before speaking. "I wanna root beer float and I want one with you."

Y/N's face is unreadable for a moment and JJ starts to sweat. He thinks he has been to forward and wants to slap himself. Suddenly, Y/N's lips turn up into a smile and JJ feels himself relax.

"Sure. I don't have much to do either than thread this book another fifty times." Y/N expects JJ to laugh but he only continues to softly smile at her.

For a moment, Y/N feels embarrassed but then JJ reaches forward to grab onto her fresh hand and she freezes. Her hand buzzes with excitement as she feels a small smile appear on her lips. JJ is happy to know she appears as nervous as he is.

"I'd love for you to read it to me." JJ inquires, searching in her eyes for the answer.

Y/N nods quickly, the idea popping I'm jer head a long time ago. "I'd love to."

As they walked down the hall, they allowed themselves to fully get to know one another. Y/N and JJ spoke about school and their lives but most importantly, about books. They spoke over one another many times but never to be rude, only to laugh or add a witty response. And as Y/N held on tight to her book, she felt as though she would have to pay an overdue fine some time soon too.

taglist: @dolanfivsosxox @obxrush @bellakellyrose03 @belledutchess @sexualparkour @lueurglow @itsriasblog @maries110911 @ebonyyyy-e @teamnick @tangledinsparkles @sarahsmaybank @91912512 @shawnssongs @ssjiara @amarachoren @haute-shawn @blog-hannahnicole @xlittlemissydjx

#jj outer banks #jj obx #jj maybank #jj x reader #jj x you #jj x y/n #obx jj #obx #john b obx #kie obx #obx rp #jj maybank obx #rudy obx #obx netflix #obx fanfiction #sarah outer banks #pope outer banks #kiara outer banks #outer banks

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spiltcandycoatedpunkblood · 3 years

Text

it’s so weird to think about, even at my lowest point where i was clearly mentally ill, my parents still took advantage of that. my parents took advantage of their vulnerable children, especially from us being teenagers onwards. even with teenagers and other kids at school. you’d think someone would see an emotional, anxious child/teenager and think, ‘something might be up and they may need help’, but no. i was most likely just that lazy, frustrating, emotional child growing up that then ended up feeling like a burden on everybody and fell apart when they made mistakes.

and when i developed addictions and TRIED to quit them despite still being in a toxic, stressful environment, and inevitably couldn’t, i got accused of being spiteful towards my parents and yelled at. which just fucking made things worse. and these were the same parents going through my sister’s bank statements when she wasn’t around and who had access to my bank account because ‘i couldn’t be trusted with finances’ (instead of actually,, y’know,, GIVING ADVICE ON HOW TO BE FINANCIALLY INDEPENDENT)!! i’d be paranoid at getting a text message that they saw something on my bank account if i went behind their back. it was fucked up as hell, and by the end, despite being totally aware of their children’s mental illnesses, they still charged us god knows how much rent a month despite it being far more than what the bills actually cost.

that’s just sick. i don’t know how i thought any of this was normal, even if i do have several doubts still as to how bad things actually were.

like fucking hell. that’s insidious parenting tactics. like fuck off. thanks a fucking lot. way to set up your kids to fail and rely on you constantly. surely some day they should have realised everything would collapse in on itself? like what was their back up plan? like why was it so hard to just learn to be better? didn’t they think their kids wouldn’t end up being onto them and be resentful? like they’ve isolated themselves from so many people. what the fuck are they gonna do now? that’s just fucking sad. it’s depressing, really. i always had hope things wouldn’t turn out even half as badly.

it just fucking sucks, y’know? i expected far better from grown fucking adults, especially my own damn parents, let alone pretty much the whole system.

(do not reblog)

#vent #rant #abuse tw #mental illness #addiction #trauma #personal #you ever just feel completely abandoned and then shoved into the adult world like #'you gotta deal with this now'#like how the fuck i was hardly equipped and now i'm shoved into the deep end #i'm so fucking mad

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mor-beck-more-problems · 4 years

Text

Myling Around || Morgan and Miriam

TIMING: Current

LOCATION: The Archive

PARTIES: @meflemming & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Miriam and Morgan go looking for leads to Morgan’s ghost problem and scare up an entirely different one in the process.

Even with her muted senses, Morgan couldn’t help but run her fingers over the stacks and breathe in the smell of old books in the Archive. “You ever miss the smell of old books?” She asked her companion. “Or do you have the smelling problem? Is everything still roses and lavender in your garden of un-earthly delights?” She steered down another aisle in the stacks and checked the titles she’d written down again. They had to be somewhere around here. “Thanks for coming, again,” she said. “I know this is up your special interests alley, but you don’t have to do anything for me. This is personal, not principle. And you are more than just my rent-a-witch-killer call, even if I’ve been kind of bad about showing that. You’re more, Mim. I believe that, even if I did drag you out to The Archive for a research field trip on ghost torture.”

“I have heightened senses,” Miriam murmured as she looked at another shelf, taking in the Archive. She believed that the last time she’d been in this place, she’d been alive, looking for some obscure book for Gilly and paying for it, of course. “Though, I wouldn’t say it’s all roses and lavender. You wouldn’t believe how much worse certain things smell now. Some of the colognes the kids wear these days? Disgusting, truly.” She wrinkled her nose at the smell of some teenager that had walked in her store the other evening. She had smelled his acrid, chemical scent from her office. “Of course, dearest, I’m happy to come.” She was happy to see how things had changed, certainly, and happy to see if there was anything around that she could add to her own home library. Miriam had grown quite the collection of books on magic. She liked seeing it get even larger, though it was mostly from trophies. She looked up at Morgan, an eyebrow raised. “You’ve made it abundantly clear that you think much more of me than just a witch hunter. I appreciate it.” Even if it did seem that all they did together these days was hunt witches and then discuss the moral implications of her continuously hunting witches. “Color me curious about the ghost torture, though.”

Morgan wrinkled her nose at the thought of smelling teenager body odor and cheap cologne, or even Deirdre’s carcass hauls with their odours dialed up to eleven. They were almost comforting to her with the way she was, sweet in their decay, but not enough to turn her stomach. At least, not in a bad way. “Maybe we should hold off on the sensory swap, then,” she sniggered. “Although I do have a literal garden with roses and lavender you could smell, if you wanted. You can remind me what they smell like. Hey, does this mean you can smell things you couldn’t before? Is there anything, like, surprising?” She glanced over at Miriam as she spoke, noticing the small upturn of her lips and the brightness of her eyes and she looked the place over. She was interested, engaged, almost alive. “The thanks still stands. I wouldn’t have thought you’d enjoy a place like this with all the, you know. But then, I guess I only know you a little well after all.” She stopped as she came to one of the titles on her list and hefted the book in her arms as the flipped through the contents. “I just...want to make sure you know that I’m not all talk. We can do normal things too, you know. I would even prefer that, maybe.” Or, also, not. Morgan couldn’t pretend to herself that she tried to keep her distance at least a little. She knew Mim was dangerous, that she could never be brought close enough into her circle to know who the Vurals were or about the coven that had thrown them out. But she did care for the vampire, and wondered how many people she had who bothered with her beyond what she had designated herself to ‘do.’

“I mean, bookshop trips are kind of normal,” Morgan went on quickly, “But I’m not really here just to browse, although we could, if you want, once I knock this out. And as for my purpose, well, as I said in my message when I lured you out here, I’m trying to torture a witch that’s already dead. And there’s not much that can hurt a ghost. But if I know humans at all, someone, somewhere, came up with something truly horrible for just that purpose.” She flipped back to the index and skimmed quickly, then put the book back, dissatisfied. “She’s the one who killed me, Mim,” Morgan said quietly. “The same one who cursed me. Well, me and my entire, miserable bloodline going back a hundred years. And she still can’t leave me alone. What’s up with that, right?”

“What?” Miriam asked in mock surprise. “You don’t want to smell all the wonders that White Crest’s population has to offer?” Some things, places, people smelled lovely. Some smelled wretched. “I have a nice garden myself, but I’m sure yours is far better. I don’t actually tend to mine.” She sometimes thought she should. It wasn’t like she had a problem getting her hands dirty. “Of course I wouldn’t mind describing rose and lavender to you. I might not be as descriptive as you’d like, but I certainly can.” She cocked her head a bit, thinking. “People who are sick smell different. Then, there are certain chemicals released when people are excited in any sort of way that I can smell if I’m close enough. And, if there’s spilled blood, I can smell the difference is species. All of my senses are heightened. Not to the sort of level as other supernaturals, but definitely a major difference.” She ran a finger along the spine of a book, old and brittle. “I can smell ink on pages, sometimes.” It had been far more overwhelming than she cared to admit, when she first turned, the heightened senses and emotions and urges to kill. Now, though, Miriam couldn’t remember what life was like. “Well, then, you’re welcome, of course.” The thanks settled in improperly. She didn’t really feel like she should be thanked for much of anything. “I do know that. Unfortunately, this town, what we are, doesn’t really agree with ‘normal.’” She laughed. “I don’t even know what that means, at this point.”

Miriam shook her head. “We don’t have to worry about browsing today. This is more important.” Both for Morgan and for herself. She’d been trying to… control herself, be a bit more discriminatory on how and off who she fed. And it was leading to her being more… irritable, at times. Anxious, but not anxious. She felt like she was slacking a bit, like she was denying an itch that begged to be scratched. “We’ll find something, I’m quite sure of it. It’s like you said: it has to exist somewhere.” She narrowed her eyes at Morgan’s quiet words before she gave a sharp nod. “Then we’ll make sure she suffers.” If she thought about it too hard, she knew that it could be her that all this quiet, simmering rage was directed at, this desire to hurt. She would have killed Morgan without a thought. Even though she’d liked her, liked talking to her, she would have done it, and there would have only been the slightest pang of guilt. She wouldn’t have allowed herself anything more.

“Why have a garden if you don’t tend to it?” Morgan smirked. “I mean, some weeds get a bad rep that they don’t deserve, but, don’t tend at all? Really? We need to get you a better hobby, Miriam. You deserve more than sad, lonely flowers. Maybe something with a group, like a book club, or sports. You kind of look like the volleyball amazons I ogled in high school.” But Miriam was right, this wasn’t a bookstore and coffee Instagram sort of outing. Constance hated her enough to tear down her life before she went in for the kill. For all Morgan knew, she was hiding around the next corner, waiting to throw down a shelf of books and grind her to pieces. Morgan shuddered at the thought and picked up another book. “We will,” she agreed, oddly strengthened by Miriam’s assurance. She flipped through the contents again, scanning as carefully as she could in case she missed anything. Lots of notes about exorcising ghosts in the abstract, or simplistic, but not about making them suffer on the way out. She was sure she’d read or heard something about the word ‘harm’ being attached to this or ‘to the ...something.’ Certainly not death. Morgan’s thoughts were interrupted by a shrill scream.

“MOMMY SAID NO HITTING!!”

“Wow, someone’s having a really bad da--”

“MOMMYYYYYY SAAAAAID!” It was one of those ragged wails that threatened to break the sound barrier. Morgan looked and...found most of the store looking at the walking child corpse with dazed bewilderment. Did anyone else hear that? A little kid, right? It’s probably someone watching a movie without headphones. Weirdest thing. But she was there, right there, and she was pointing at Morgan and Miriam like they had personally stomped on her Barbie dream house. She stomped towards them, screaming again.

“Because it’s something nice to look at. Besides,” Miriam said, a bit defensively, “it’s a bit difficult to only garden at night, you know. Better to just hire someone that knows what they’re doing in the day.” She raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Volleyball amazon, huh? I’ve never been the best at group activities, you know.” She tended to enjoy taking charge and doing the work herself. Besides, team sports didn’t suit the image she’d made for herself in her youth. It was a shame, really. She wished she’d had a better outlet for all that rage. Miriam began her own excursion into looking through books, hoping to find something that might help Morgan, occasionally skimming to see if there was something that struck her own fancy. She was startled out of her browsing by a child screaming. Her head snapped up to look at it, wondering who would leave a child unattended in a bookstore, when she saw it.

The child was clearly dead. Greyish parlor, vacant eyes, dirtied dress (something that looked similar to what Miriam herself might have worn as a child), and no discernable heartbeat made it impossible for Miriam to do anything more than stare, for just a moment, as the child stomped towards them. Then, she panicked.

“Morgan. Morgan, what do we do? Morgan?” she hissed out, eyes wide as she stared at the advancing little girl. Miriam liked children. She did. She had always wanted a child. She… did not know how to handle children, especially not undead ones throwing temper tantrums. “Hitting what? Books? Isn’t that all metaphorical?” Who was she talking to? Herself? Morgan? The toddler? She didn’t know. Miriam backed herself a bit into one of the shelves, her heels making clicking noises as she tapped her foot. She was at a loss on what to do here.

It took Morgan a moment to compose herself. When she first saw the spectral image, she froze, fearing Constance had found her. She knew what she should be doing: she should be pulling the iron rod out of her bag. She should be dumping lines of salt around them, or running for the door. But she couldn’t find her feet or her grip. The child was shambling towards them on broken legs that might’ve been made of gauze, for how she wobbled on the airy shapes. Morgan was sure she would have remembered her face if they’d met before. She didn’t make friends with all the ghosts in town, but those younger than her tended to stick out, it just seemed so much more unfair. This girl couldn’t have been more than seven at a generous guess, and Morgan wasn’t sure she had it in her to strike the dead girl. Which was looking...really unfortunate, since the Bad Seed didn’t look like she was going to be putting herself in time out anytime soon.

Miriam’s voice snapped her out of her fear. She’d never heard Miriam be afraid before. She had to do something. Now. “Get behind me,” she said, moving in front already. “Also, maybe uh--” She considered passing Miriam the rod, wondering if she’d have the nerve where Morgan faltered. Guilt gripped her at once and she fished into her bag for the salt. “If she gets too close, throw some of this,” she said. “I’ll just, uh…” See what she wants? “Hey, sweetheart…” she cooed, “You okay there?”

“I KNOW WHAT YOU DID!” The girl bellowed. “MOMMY CONNIE TOLD ME WHAT YOU DID!”

“Oh, shit. Mim, we gotta--” She was pushing them towards the door when the shelf they were next to cracked. The ghost girl waved from the other side of it, smug as a loony toon as it toppled down on them.

“I don’t need to get behind you, Morgan,” Miriam snapped in a hushed voice, though she moved a bit anyway. “I’m not scared of a child, dead or not.” Part of her ached for the little girl tottering towards them. A slightly larger part of her was still panicking, though, so unsure about how to handle this situation that she was more than happy to allow Morgan to try and handle it. She took the bag of salt, though she wasn’t convinced she could even possibly begin to use it. She watched Morgan try to deal with the little girl, her voice soothing and syrupy sweet. And she watched as the little girl brought the shelf down.

“Fuck,” Miriam snarled, eyes flashing red in panic as she used a burst of speed to try and maneuver her and Morgan away from the toppling shelf. It was coming down on them, there was no stopping that, and it was definitely going to hurt. It was a good thing that both of them were nearly impossible to kill. She grunted as the shelf fell, trying to support it as well as she could. “You’re the brawn, darling, you’re going to have to help me lift.” Why did fucking books weigh so much. “This child’s a brat,” she said through clenched teeth.

Morgan didn’t remember falling. She was trying to run out of reach, squeezing Miriam’s hand, then she was on the ground, wood digging into the small of her back and books crushing her limbs.

“YOU HIT MOMMY CONNIE!”

Morgan grimaced, struggling to push herself up on her arms. “Getting fucking kids to your work for you, Constance?” She hissed under her breath. “Because that’s so mature…” Her back burned with effort. She didn’t remember moving being this hard when she was alive. “Mim--” she grunted, rising a little higher. “I’m doin’ my best here. Still not exactly the Hulk.” But she had braced herself well enough to lift an arm, give herself a little extra push. Morgan hissed through her teeth. “How’s this sound? We get out from under here, run off with whatever looks useful that we can see, and go literally anywhere else. Maybe Al’s, they’ve got those giant salt shakers!” Morgan could just about sell herself on the idea when two little oxford shoes crept into view. “Or maybe we just go home. Push on three, okay?” She looked over at the vampire as best she could, hope just brimming through her grimace.

“Mommy Connie,” Miriam said, her brows furrowed with thought and effort in trying to help lift the stack off of them both. “Morgan, if this is about that witch bitch of a ghost that killed you, then, truly, count me in. One, two--” Instead of saying three, Miriam started to lift with all that she could with Morgan’s help, lifting the shelf off of them both. “Sounds lovely,” she said, feeling out of breath even when she didn’t have to breathe. “You grab what you need, and we can go to my place if you’d like. I’m going to--” she looked to where the child was, unsure and a little pained, “--to try and give us a bit of time.” She took out the bag of salt.

“I don’t want to do this,” Miriam told the little dead girl. “I’d rather not salt you. I like children, as hard as that is to believe. I don’t like brats, though. You seem like a bit of a brat. You could have hurt someone.” Dead things can’t be reasoned with. Still, here Miriam was, trying to reason with a ghost child. Fuck, she hoped Morgan got what she needed and soon. “Did you see my friend here hurt your… mother?” Could this child even answer a question? Or was she too far gone, just another creature that acted on instinct. Miriam clenched the bag of salt tightly, hoping she wouldn’t have to use it but ready just in case.

The little girl’s screams were starting to devolve into sobs. “M-my--Connie--TOLD ME!” If she’d been alive she would’ve started turning color. Every word ripped from her dead throat, raw, shrill, and choked. “She--!” The little girl pointed a chubby, trembling finger at Morgan, “Wants to make her go away! And I. WON’T. LET HER!” Her scream made the glass over the overhead lights buckle. Lights sparked and flicked.

Morgan, meanwhile, scrambled out from under the shelf and waded through the mess of books for anything that had Exorcism in the title. If she didn’t get anything useful out of them, she’d just return them. She kicked the other tomes out of her way, following the last of the panicked customers through the doorway. Some college kid was running backwards, phone out, trying to capture the spectacle. Morgan slapped it out of her hand and shouted, “Run, you idiot!”

“My phone!”

Morgan pushed the girl next and bolted out the door. She skidded to a halt and looked over her shoulder. Miriam was still in there, trying to...reason with the kid? “Mim!” She opened the door and held out her hand.

“NOT UNTIL YOU PAY FOR HURTING MY CONNIE!” The little girl smacked down another bookshelf, starting a cascade.

Morgan grabbed Miriam’s wrist and pulled. She couldn’t die again, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t get hurt either.

Miriam’s eyes widened as she took in the sobbing child, her undead heart cracking just a bit. Maybe the little girl could be reasoned with. But then she started pointing her finger and screaming, and Miriam gritted her teeth. “Oh, bite me, you little brat.” She jumped back as another bookshelf fell, reaction and instinct taking over to push herself away. For just a moment, she considered throwing the salt, ending it. She… couldn’t. She just couldn’t. Instead, she ran to the door and allowed Morgan to yank her out of the destroyed bookstore. Brushing an errant curl back into place, Miriam huffed and looked over to her zombie companion. “Never a dull moment with you, is it, sweetness?” She let out a breathless laugh. “My god, that bitch Connie really hates you.” It wasn’t funny. She didn’t quite know why she was laughing. She sobered a bit, gave Morgan a nod. “If you’ve got the books we need, then let’s get to researching how to get rid of this wannabe undead bitch.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m the only one that gets that title.”

“Yeah, that’s me!” Morgan said, laughing shrill. “Always one for adventure.” She checked herself over as much as she could with one arm and edged away from the doors. Nothing looked permanently damaged, but there was more debris than shelves in there, and in the middle of the room, the dead child with the broken legs continued to wail, heaving her dead lungs for a relief that was never going to come. “I never took you for much of a maternal type, Miriam.” A smile of amused wonder spread as she edged them further into the night. “You really are full of amazing surprises.” And just as quickly, the smile faltered. “I should tell you, though, the Constance pain in my ass was only nineteen when she died. “I don’t want to trick you into anything you’re not up for, but I can give you the rest of my sordid story back at your place, or tomorrow. Maybe next week?” She laughed again. “After all that, you’re the only dead girl I wanna deal with today.”

#myling around #wr miriam #wr chatzy #wr miriam chatzy #wickedswriting

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n1ghtt1me-stars · 4 years

Text

Part 10 (1)

Warlock saunters vaguely through life (Warlock saunters vaguely into their lives part 10) - this work is around 20,000 words so will be uploaded in eight parts every week

work on ao3, part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, part six, part seven, part eight, part nine

The five years after the non-apocalypse passed quickly and peacefully.

And Warlock really didn't want anything to change.

In school, he had very few friends - really they were more acquaintances than friends - other quiet people he sat with in the library and the computer suite because everyone knew that they wouldn't disturb each other. Warlock wasn't even a hundred per cent certain on all their names.

After his last GCSE exam, he went straight home. It was physics and Warlock was pretty sure he lost all the marks except on the parts about Space, as Crowley had helped him revise that topic. There was talk about a party that all his year was invited to, but it felt presumptive to assume he was a part of that group.

The tube had become part of his everyday routine: headphones in, head down and praying that it wasn't crammed (though it usually was).

There was a well-done-on-your-exams cake waiting when he arrived home. Crowley and Aziraphale stood proudly behind the table with the cake on it. Smiling, Warlock walked over and gave them a hug. Neither of them really understood human school though they celebrated each achievement and somehow cake became a part of it.

Aziraphale began to plate some slices of cake while Crowley turned to him and asked, "How was school, dear?"

"S'alright," Warlock replied. "Hated the test but my physics teacher gave us sweets afterwards. I think she pitied us."

Crowley laughed and Warlock continued with descriptions of his classmates' looks of despair. Aziraphale chimed in with "Oh those poor dears. Were exams one of mine or yours?"

Leaning back in his chair as he thought, Crowley eventually said, "I can't remember. I think I did it but it could have been a favour."

"I swear," Warlock said, "if you didn't give me cake, I would be really annoyed right now."

Later that evening, Warlock laid on his bed on his phone. Somehow, he had become friends with Adam and his lot. Not so much Wensleydale and Brian (Warlock did get Wensleydale's help with physics as well though it didn't pay off). He spoke a bit with Adam who really liked plants, and Warlock had grown up in Crowley's garden so they had some common ground.

Mostly, Warlock messaged Pepper. They both did ICT as a hobby and as a GCSE (Brian also did the exam but only because he thought it would be easy). Pepper was also into social justice and Warlock knew the best way to be heard in both Britain and America through his father’s complaints.

(They also both liked romantic comedies and were too ashamed to admit it to anyone else)

Is Adam still prepping for the party? Warlock sent Pepper after their rants about exams died off.

Of course. Been planning this since his fifteenth. Warlock can feel Pepper rolling her eyes. He's even made a truce with Johnson because he can get drinks for the after-party.

That's dedication. How's he hiding it from his parents?

Convinced Anathema it’s a rite of passage. She's going to distract all the adults including your parents after the barbecue so we can go to the treehouse.

Sounds fun. And it really did. Since his eleventh birthday, it had become a tradition to throw a joint party with Adam. His parents were usually abroad so they travelled to Tadfield for roughly a week.

To you maybe. Adam’s been setting up rubbish bags and threatening to fight anyone who litters in his woods.

Haha so glad I don't help plan these things

Wish you did, Pepper quickly replied before sending another message, it's annoying that you can't come during Christmas or Easter

I know. Two more years and then I don't have to go back to my parents’ house.

Only two years. Can't believe we're all growing up. Pepper sent.

Yeah, neither could he. Growing up was a surreal thing. Changes happened without you noticing; he doesn't know when the last time he called Crowley Nanny was. He remembered being teased for having servants and stopped referring to Nanny in school. And then, it bled into his home life. Warlock wasn't sure if Crowley noticed because he never said anything, but it made Warlock a little sad thinking about it.

I know. Think Adam will mature once we turn 16?

Nope. Still be thinking he's the centre of the universe till someone knocks him down a couple of pegs

Warlock laughed aloud at that. Adam was regularly self-centred, but he meant well most of the time. Once, when they were thirteen, he didn't talk to Warlock for weeks after he couldn't come over for Christmas despite him explaining why. It took Pepper hitting him for Adam to apologise.

The year after, Adam posted a book about coding to the Dowling house. Warlock still wasn't sure how he got that address.

Before he could reply to Pepper, she messaged again that her mum needed her so she'd talk tomorrow. It was only ten so Warlock doodled in his notebook a bit; he could do rough sketches of a variety of plants and flowers without thinking. For his art GCSE, most of his coursework had been based around plants because he could use Crowley's garden as a source. A few years ago, Crowley had expanded to a greenhouse on the roof (which Warlock was pretty sure was closed off to tenants) and it was so beautiful and full of lush plants in there.

It was definitely one of Warlock's favourite places.

A couple of weeks later (most of it was spent catching up on sleep), Warlock packed for their trip to Tadfield. Technically, he wasn't a military kid like the others he grew up with who moved every few years. But, on the other hand, as a diplomat's son, he went on more short-haul trips so packing was a breeze.

Going through his mental list, he packed his clothes effectively so he could take his tablet and laptop. He knew Aziraphale would be taking enough books for the week so he didn't have to worry about that.

Suitcase ready and his phone on charge for the car journey, he went up to the roof. He passed Aziraphale prepping packed lunches in the kitchen: most likely simple sandwiches if he was trying to make something without magic.

It was a rare clear day and Warlock could see miles of the city all around from the rooftop however he couldn't hear the busy streets. Apparently, plants needed a calm, clean atmosphere (even though they were already in a greenhouse) so the roof was quiet and smelled of clean air and not the usual scent of exhaust fumes.

Pushing open the door to the greenhouse, Warlock was met with a warm wall of humidity. Crowley stood over some vibrant green ferns with his water sprayer, inspecting for any damage and threatening them.

"You all better grow well when I'm away," he said as the leaves trembled. "or you'll know what'll happen. I don't think any of you can survive a fall from a roof."

Warlock gently stroked a shaking leaf and it stopped trembling. As if communicating with the others, all the plants went still and Crowley turned to glare at him. "You and Aziraphale are way too nice to them."

"Yeah," Warlock said, "We're the ones who are too nice."

Crowley waved the spray bottle at him before giving the plants one last glare. Walking out of the greenhouse, Crowley asked, "Are you ready to go?"

To be honest, his stomach was turning. Each year, it was terrifying to be celebrating his birthday with people he only saw once a year and only knew because he was standing in the background when the world nearly ended.

"Yep, can't wait," Warlock said. He must have sounded convincing because Crowley told him to put his stuff in the car before going to find Aziraphale.

They stayed in the same rented cottage every year that was always empty despite it being the height of summer. Like the flat, it was a lot smaller than the house he grew up in, but Warlock preferred it. Every floorboard creaked and the chairs felt like they would collapse whenever someone sat on them but it was never empty.

Unsurprisingly, they arrived before lunchtime because of Crowley's driving, so they had the sandwiches at the cottage. Warlock had several messages from Pepper demanding he come into the woods as soon as possible because Adam is getting stressy about the party and someone needs to distract him.

Leaving Aziraphale and Crowley to sort out the cottage, Warlock jumped the fence in the garden as it was the quickest route into the woods. He only came once a year, but he could walk this path with his eyes closed. It was cool beneath the shade of the trees, yet the light that filtered through made the whole area a nice golden hue. The air had a similar feel to the greenhouse: clean, fresh and the furthest thing from the city air.

The first thing he heard was Adam's voice. "Hang the paper chains evenly in the branches," he shouted. Warlock walked into the slight clearing in time to see Pepper glare at Adam. "Please," he added reluctantly at her look.

No one was really sure if Adam still had his powers, but Adam swung round to lock eyes with Warlock as if he just knew he was there.

"Warlock!" He shouted and smiled widely. However, Warlock's response was cut off when a weight slammed into the back of his knees. Stumbling forwards, Warlock stopped himself from falling as Dog continued to jump and bark at him. For some reason, Dog was always overly enthusiastic around him and no one else.

"Hey," Warlock said as Dog ran over and sat down at Adam's ankles. "How are you?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Adam said. "It's good you're here actually, you can help Wensleydale with the paper chains. He has no idea how to spread the colours evenly."

Looking over at the tree, Warlock could see what Adam meant. There was a large patch of red on one side of the tree, a couple of stands if blue next to it (where Wensleydale was precariously sitting) and other colours in a pile on the floor. If left to his own devices, all the colours would end up in distinct blocks which would just look weird. "Sure," Warlock said, "I'll save the tree."

"Thank you," Adam said earnestly. Suddenly, he shouted "Brian, no!" before running off to deal with another impending disaster.

On his way over, Warlock said hi to Pepper who was setting up some solar-powered garden lights. "We'll have to take some of that red down," he said to Wensleydale who was clambering down from the tree.

"Yeah," Wensleydale said sadly. He cleaned his glasses on his shirt and put them back on to stare at the paper chains. "I guess it would look better if they were mixed together."

"Yeah..." Warlock said as he studied the colours. "If you get back up in the tree, I'll pass them up and we can spread them out?"

"Sounds good," Wensleydale replied and he climbed the tree again. As they worked, they chatted mostly about the recent exams because that was the only common ground they had.

"How did your RE go?" Wensleydale asked. Warlock was grateful that they had quickly moved on from the physics paper.

"Alright I think," he said as he passed up a green chain. "But it didn't help that Aziraphale kept telling me about misprinted bible quotes. They were all I could remember in the exam."

"Oh, I read about some of those. I think my favourite was 'Thou shalt commit Adultery'."

Laughing, Warlock said, "Nah, 'the unrighteous shall inherit the Kingdom of God' is definitely the best one. It's amazing how these were so wrong with just little mistakes."

Finally finished with the tree (which now looked like an explosion of colour instead of a paint-by-number), Warlock realised that his stomach was growling. Brian and Pepper disappeared a while ago once they had finished their jobs and Wensleydale quickly left as well, claiming he was tired from scrambling around the tree. That just left him and Adam, who was trying to get Dog to stop playing with a scrap piece of paper that he was intent on tearing to bits.

"Dog, drop it!" Adam said. Warlock laughed as Dog ignored him. "Drop it," Adam continued sternly, "or no treats for dinner."

Dog dropped it and Adam looked at Warlock smugly. "I'm pretty sure he only stopped because you mentioned treats," Warlock said and Adam's expression faltered slightly.

No," he said stubbornly. "Dog understood the threat."

"Sure he did," Warlock said, filling his voice with sarcasm. "Well," he added, "I'm hungry so I'm going to ..."

"Come to mine," Adam interrupted. "My mum will be preparing dinner soon."

"Uh..." Warlock couldn't see a valid reason to refuse, except that being around the adult Youngs was weird, but he couldn't admit that to their son. "Sure," he said, "let me just message Crowley."

"Awesome," Adam said, and, as soon as Warlock put his phone back in his pocket, grabbed his arm and started dragging Warlock to his house.

Excluding all the supernatural elements, Warlock wondered if there was anyone else in a similar situation where the child was the one to know that they were adopted and not the adult.

He couldn't help thinking about it as Mrs Young pulled him into a hug and Mr Young gave him a firm handshake. Really, he looked nothing like Mrs Young who shared the same light hair and soft face with Adam, and the only similarity he had with Mr Young was the dark hair colour that his mum also had. Adam, though, did actually look like their son despite not being related.

The situation was strange and Warlock usually tried to ignore it, especially around his family because his father could not find out he wasn't biologically his.

It would be the straw that broke the camel's back; it would be all the excuse his father needed to disown him.

"Sit down," Mrs Young said, ushering Warlock and Adam to the dining table. "I'm making bangers and mash so I hope you're hungry."

"They're vegetarian by the way," Adam said to him.

"Yeah, that's fine," Warlock said. He knew that Adam went vegetarian a while back and that his parents followed his example. Anyway, you could never go wrong with sausages and potatoes.

Warlock could hear the sound of ceramic plates being set out and the kettle whistling in the kitchen. Despite his reservations, Warlock did love being in Adam's house. It was loud and full of life and reminded him of the times when he, Aziraphale and Crowley tried to make a new dish together (with varying degrees of success). It was also the furthest thing from the empty estate that he used to live in.

Once everyone was sat down and eating, Mr Young turned to him and asked, "So, what exams did you do Warlock?"

"Uh, ICT, RE and art," Warlock said, "plus English, maths and combined science of course."

"A good range," Mr Young said, meeting Warlock’s eyes as if he was genuinely interested, "Your parents must be proud."

"Yep," Warlock said, quickly shoving a forkful of mash into his mouth so he didn't have to say anymore. He was pretty sure his father's lecture on why he should do more useful subjects like politics or business lasted an hour when Warlock told him his chosen options.

Thankfully, Adam started talking about the party. He omitted the part about the truce and Johnson bringing alcohol but he waved his cutlery around as he spoke about all the decorations and the games they' were going to play in the woods.

"I'm thinking that we play games that we used to play as kids," Adam said, as though he never stopped playing those games. "Forty forty in is good in the dark..."

"How do you play?" Warlock asked.

Adam turned to look at him with wide eyes, "You've never played?" Adam said. Warlock looked away slightly from his shocked look. As a child, the only game he could remember playing was soccer (well football here, that was probably the only American thing about Warlock) when some of his mother's friends brought their children round. Names of games like 'bulldog' and '123 home' were suggested if he remembered correctly but soccer was the only thing they all knew so they didn't have to waste time explaining it. He never had regular friends to develop these kinds of games with.

"No..." Warlock eventually said, focused on the food in front of him as he cut the sausages into tiny, regular pieces. "I've never heard of it."

"That's fine," Adam said, his cheerful mood not at all affected. "You can be on my team and we’ll destroy the others."

"We never played in teams," Mrs Young added. "If you was IT, you had to do it alone."

"Well, in my version there’s teams and it's more fun when you have someone to work with."

"Okay dear, finish your food," Mrs Young said, gesturing to Adam's half full plate which he had been ignoring whenever he spoke.

They finished in relative silence and Warlock helped Mrs Young carry the plates into the kitchen as Adam took Dog out into the garden. "You're such a polite boy," she said, "not like the chaotic demon I raised." Warlock laughed though it was more at the fact that she didn't know how right she was. "Are you excited for the barbeque tomorrow?" she asked.

"Yeah," Warlock said. "Thank you for hosting it again. They're always brilliant. This will be the fifth one-- won't it?"

"Oh its no trouble," Mrs Young said, dismissing his praise with a wave of her hand. "I can't believe you're all growing up so fast. Soon, you'll be at university and then adults. First, it was Adam's sister and now Adam. Oh God," she paused and wiped her eyes, "I better stop before I start weeping."

Warlock scuffed his feet against the floor. "It's alright," he said, feeling like an intruder. Adam had told him late one night in a rare honest conversation that his older sister visited less and less and that it made his mother upset. In return, Warlock told him how his parents had been distant growing up and he disliked people like his sister, who selfishly took their parents' love for granted.

Adam didn't argue with him. He only said that he was glad Warlock was with Aziraphale and Crowley now.

"Go hang out with Adam," Mrs Young said as she shooed him out of the kitchen. "I'll get Arthur to help me."

Leaving her shouting for her husband, Warlock went into the garden where he found Adam laying on the recently-mowed grass with Dog. The sun was just setting, turning the sky red (Warlock hoped that meant the weather would be good tomorrow for their birthday). Sitting down next to him, Warlock saw that Adam's eyes were closed but he knew that Adam was aware that he was there. He waited in silence until Adam opened his eyes.

From his position sitting up, Warlock had to lean over slightly so he could make eye contact with Adam. "Are you going to stay there all night?" he asked.

"Maybe," Adam said with a smirk. Honestly, Warlock wouldn't be surprised if Adam actually did as he always seemed to belong more outside.

"In that case," Warlock said as he stood up, "I'll be heading back to sleep in a proper bed."

Adam groaned but scrambled quickly to his feet. "I'll walk you back," he said. There were grass stains all down his back and loose stands in his hair. Warlock tried to help by picking some of the pieces out but stopped quickly when he felt Adam still beneath his hand.

"You don't have to," Warlock said, feeling slightly guilty for disturbing him.

Adam waved him off. "I want to," he said, smiling brightly.

Adam took them along the main road instead of the through the woods even though it was longer. Surprisingly, Adam kept quiet (only interrupting occasionally to ask questions) when Warlock spent most of the walk talking about some new plants Crowley had gotten recently and how they were so pretty Warlock had already drawn them many times trying to capture them right.

Finally, they reached the cottage. Pausing at the gate to say goodbye, Warlock was shocked when Adam pulled him into a quick hug. Adam pulled away too soon for Warlock to hug him back and said, "You're so going to love your present tomorrow."

"I bet my present for you is better," Warlock said almost automatically as his brain was still processing the hug.

Adam laughed and said, "Doubt it," before running off.

When Warlock woke up the next morning, his memory of his conversation with Adam was crystal clear while the rest of the evening after that was a complete blur in his mind.

Next part

#warlock tags along #warlock grows up #warlock saunters vaguely into their lives #good omens #good omens fanfiction

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cubanmalefootlover · 4 years

Text

The House of the Witch

A lad stopped in front of the iron railing. He’s your regular high school teen in search of excitement. Beyond the fence, the impressive building of “Madison House” surrounded by the vast land. He got off his bike while looking around warily.

“PRIVATE PROPERTY. KEEP OUT. NO TRESPASSING”. It could be read in the tattered sing. A black hood covered his head and a dark ski mask hid from his nose down, so his hazel eyes is the only you can see of his face. He pulled back the hood and wiped his sweaty forehead with his hand, now it could be seen his brown hair with golden highlights nicely styled in a man bun. He took a deep breath while replaced the hood on his head. Then he pushed the rusty fence and biked forward with determination…

Three days earlier

Four teens were walking by the town.

-I assure none of the Bakers lives there any longer–stated Samantha.

-My dad says the family’s living out of town now, but they still own the land –said Lynda.

-Why don’t they sell it? –asked Fabian.

-Perhaps they’re thinking in fix it and rent it –deduced Lynda.

-Bullshit! –said Fabian-. They didn’t even take care of the house.

-No one’s gonna buy it ‘cause of the “witch” –Samantha whispered.

The four kids kept silence for few seconds.

-Last week the janitor’s son tried to cut the grass and he couldn’t… - said Samantha. She and Fabian chuckled mischievously.

-Please guys… -said Peter-. Officer Paterson arrested him for violation.

-It hasn’t sense –protested Samantha-. The grass is actually very grown and he’s not a stranger. They don’t want nobody get inside the house.

-Some people say it’s haunted –said Lynda.

- You won’t believe in that, will you? –taunted Samantha-. Hey guys, it’s just a myth!

Lynda and Peter exchanged doubtful looks. Fabian sniggered.

-Mister Baker’s grandmother was the daughter of a witch –said Samantha.

-No! –interrupted Lynda-. She was blamed of witchcraft, but she was innocent.

-How you know it, dear? –asked Samantha-. You were there?

-Many women accused of witchcraft were innocent –said Lynda-. At least, it’s what my mom says; she and Mrs. Baker were friends. And she also said that Mr. Baker’s aunt brought the ashes of the witch, six months before they moved.

-Don’t you think it’s… weird? –asked Peter trying to conceal his unease.

-Hey, guys, is Halloween! -said Samantha-. “Madison House” is creepy. I think it’s a good challenge. Thirty bucks for the “Keep out” sing.

-That’s too easy –replied Fabian.

-This isn’t easy –retorted Peter-. We better look for another challenge. We don’t want Officer Paterson arresting us for trespassing.

-Yeah, Fabian’s right… -accepted Samantha-. What if… taking a higher risk?

-For example? -asked Fabian with interest.

-The numbers on the door –suggested Samantha.

-I bring you the number and you spend the Halloween night with me in “Madison House”… alone -added Fabian.

-Mmm… deal! –accepted Samantha with a naughty sparkle in her eyes.

The Halloween Night

It’s still afternoon, so the people is preparing all stuff for the night. A thin, agile figure crossed the streets in a bike. The face was hidden behind a ski mask and a hood. It’s dressed with navy t-shirt, black jacket, dark pants and red Vans. It stopped in front of the railing entrance of “Madison House” properties. The surroundings were lonely, as expected. The hood is pulled back and the ski mask removed from the face: it’s Fabian. His hazel eyes stared at the old building with awe…

He opened the railing door, got on his bike again and quickly rushed by the path toward the uninhabited house. He felt a strange sensation in the air, but he blamed the anxiety. He left his bike on the overgrown grass and then his slender figure reached the doorway. Old remains, broken windows, dead leaves and others things scattered all around.

The main door was shut. Fabian took a screwdriver out of the rear pocket of his pants and began to pull the number out with the tip of the tool. The number was pushed out of its stud and fell down the floor. He heard a voice and turned around: a bus and two cars went by the street, nothing else. Fabian bent over to pick up the number and, surprisingly, the solid door opened. It came into view a huge hall covered with dust.

The boy glanced inside the hall with a mix of curiosity and dread. He walked two, three steps inside.

-Hello?!... –he asked. His voice echoed through the hall unearthly.

No answer. Just a mild sound of sleeves and the whispering breeze. The daylight gave way to the darkness beyond the hall. That fainted voiced made him stare back again. Now he could swear he vaguely heard his name. Proud of himself, Fabian walked back while kept the number in his pocket, but before reaching his bike he was seized from behind and shoved inside the house abruptly. He gripped the doorframe as tight as he could, but he was pulled with incredible force. He looked back and there was no one, just a black cloud that took form in a terrible face…

-AAAHHHHHH…AAAAHHHHHH…AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH…!!!!!!!

Fabian was thrust toward the hall and the main door got again closed, his hopeless screams were fading within the walls…

Sybil the witch

The intruder was dragged by the dusty floor of “Madison House”. It suddenly stopped. He stood up in a hurry and ran toward the door when his eyes collided with the most hair-raising sight he’d seen in his short life. A humanoid figure was floating above the floor; it seemed to be a woman with long hair and a white gown. Two blazing embers in the center of her face petrified him. The figure charged toward the boy and enfolded him. He emitted a cry before shut his eyes and passed out…

The black cloud gently lifted the out cold lad and placed him in a bed. It took a female form and caressed Fabian’s boyish face. She took his black jacket off, then his shirt. Fabian had a lean pale torso and his nipples showed sweet rosy areolas. A few hairs covered his chest and ran down the flat belly to the navel. She unlaced his Vans and gently removed them off his feet. A distinctive smell wafted from his Vans that made her drag her attention to the lad’s feet. His white socks were damp with sweat and somewhat dirty on the bottom. She rolled the pants out his legs. His boxers and socks were off too, leaving him in his birthday suit.

She got fascinated at the view of her prey, so tender, so innocent, which made him even more adorable. Fresh meat to devour. However she weren’t going to wolf him down nor drink his blood; she wanted something else from him. She brought his forearms above the head. Then stretched the legs and separated the ankles from each other, so that he adopted the form of an X on the bed. She stroked lovingly his head trying not to ruin the cute bun on his hair.

For some odd reason, the witch got devotedly mesmerized with the feet of her victim. Fabian’s were lean just like his frame, about size 10, they had a wonderful narrow shape, milky arches with crisscrossed patterns tending to wrinkle when the feet scrunch; the toes were lanky and knuckly with very tender gaps between them. The toe tips, ball of the feet and heels were silky smooth and deliciously pink. The toenails were clean and trimmed. Unlike most of bikers and skaters’ feet, Fabian’s were unusually soft; his soles were unblemished and free of calluses, obviously because of comfy sneakers and lots of boy foot sweat acting as natural lotion. Such feet couldn’t have been born except to be tickled.

The witch gently slid one finger by Fabian’s sole from toes to heel. This foot immediately twitched and, interestingly, the other foot also shook in a sort of sympathetic reaction. He burped a childish giggle in his unconsciousness. It was really funny to see the way Fabian wiggled his long toes.

She now scratched the other sole, his giggles got clear but he stayed out-of-the-world with a big smile in his cute-boy face. His lanky toes looked like crazy worms as the witch dragged her nails in between them and the length of his super tender soles. She pricked his rosy heels with her sharp nails and reflexively the toes fanned out very wide so that she could see how long this boy’s toes really were. She rested her nose over them and inhaled deeply: a pungent smell of restless, sweaty feet filled her nostrils. Then she licked those toes and soles lavishly to taste their flavor.

By ancient experience the witch knew that there is a secret link between the feet and the genitals in the man body, so when his soles and toes are meticulously tickled, the nervous overload may tend to be unleashed through powerful orgasms. And since such natural reaction was having effect on the healthy young Fabian, the witch knew what’s going to happen to him as soon as she noticed his cock getting stiffen till resemble a raging missile ready to shoot.

She kept gliding his nails along his soles and in between his toes: now his testicles began to jump inside the scrotum. The witch stayed tickling Fabian’s feet and he stayed giggling silly like a baby. His breathing got a characteristic pace; his lips trembled and his face was contorted. His nipples got hard and his mouth opened in a strange grimace. Within few minutes, the slit of his swollen penis opened wide and started releasing semen, creamy and abundant that went by his chest like a river and poured down by a side to the sheet. None of his previous wet dreams had been so thrilling and breathtaking…

The witch licked avidly the semen splattered all over the lad’s chest.

A high-spirited music came from a pocket of his discarded pants. Guiding by the loud sound the monster caught Fabian’s phone in her creepy hands. It was Samantha, wanting to know if the mission was accomplished. There were some messages about their private meeting tonight. The monster showed her teeth in a horrific smile and left the phone on the clothes.

Still deep in his unconsciousness, Fabian didn’t feel how the sheets took the shape of hands and grasped his wrists and ankles.

Sometime later the lad gave sings of waking up. He found himself in an unfamiliar bedroom.

-Where am I…?

The sun beams going inside through broken windows, lighting up a room long time unused made him realized that he was still in “Madison House”. He tried to stand, but he couldn’t move his arms.

-What the hell…? Why I can’t move…??

Fabian tossed his head and looked around. He tried to get free, but to no avail; his wrists and ankles were held in place by robust knots formed by the sheets, so he noticed that he was stark naked.

-HOLY SHIT…! -he gasped, reluctant to believe. Who had stripped him off? He fought to pull out of those knots, again without success. He recognized that those weren’t knots, but looked like… hands! Some more hands rose from the sheets and grabbed around his elbows, knees and waist. His heart was racing at top speed now.

-I see you’re awake my little sweetie –said a female voice.

The hairs on his neck stood on end as a chill went through his spine.

-Wh-who a-are you? –his terrified wide eyes were searching everywhere.

-I’m Sybil, the witch... and this is my home… -the voice said.

A dark fog emerged from the shadows, taking a woman form. The figure floated on top of the bed and brought her face close to the lad’s. Fabian was going to die; he closed his eyes and just stayed there, froze.

She smiled and started running her fingers all over his torso.

-No-ha…no…nohahaha…hahaha…ohho…noohonono… itti… it titickles-sss… ohh-hohohononoo… I WANNA GO HOME! HELP ME!!! AAAWWHHHH!!!

He unleashed a sudden piercing scream when his armpits were attacked. Anguished laughter echoed through the bedroom as her hands rubbed and danced over the soft skin of his armpits. No matter how strong he pulled on his arms and legs, the sheets held them tight.

-HAHAHAHAA!! PLEASE LET ME GO!!… LET ME GO!!… LET ME GOO!!!!

His screams turned overwhelming panic when he saw another two identical women joining to the torment and offered their wicked fingers to “caress” his defenseless body. Now his torso, sides and belly were purposely tickled. He answered with a burst of hearty boyish laughter gusted out of his wide open mouth. The ladies smiled as if they were listening music.

Fabian had been ticklish his whole childhood; his mom and others close relatives played tickling with him when he was younger, he’d always could endure it quite well and even loved being tickled. Nonetheless, what he was feeling under the witches’ clutches right now was BEYOND all he’d felt before. It’s as if the witches were touching directly his nerve-endings with some kind of electric source and it was getting worse with each touch.

-SHIHIHAHAHAHAHA!!!! IIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHI!!! OUGHHUHUHUHUHU!!! AAWWWWWHHAHAHAHAHA!!!! EEWWWWHHHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEE!!!! PLEEZHEHEZEEZEHEEEHEE LET ME GOHOHOHOHOOOO!!!

Every part of his willowy flesh released a different tone of laughter when it’s stroked. At the time there was four women working on him; two at his armpits, neck and face; the others two were tickling his sides, chest and stomach, so devotedly, so tenaciously that they all seemed to perform a concert, playing their instruments with perfect skill and he was the singer, doing the only thing he could do: laugh, laugh and laugh as strong as he could to at least alleviate a bit the increasing torment he was undergoing.

The unlucky teen didn’t know why all that cruelty was thrown upon him. He only knew that all this torment was consuming his strength and he was about to lose his mind. But, poor thing, those monsters didn’t know pity and they weren’t going to free him soon. And since no one knew he was there, no help was on the way for him.

Then all of a sudden, ten hands, fifty evil fingers assaulted the young flesh in unison. A lady was now gliding her lips over his face and neck while another slid her tongue over his chest and stomach and a third one relished herself licking his left armpit. The others two ladies added her tongues to the right armpit. The feelings got now a never-reached level of excruciating intensity. Those tongues had something unnatural that engulfed his nerves in a hell of sensations, totally incomprehensible for the human flesh. Sort of nerve-eating waves swept his nervous system, bringing him to the edge of collapse.

Fabian was in absolute hysterics. One thing is that he felt agonizingly ticklish, but now, in this place, incapable of escape and stark naked, every single touch of those vicious creatures sent him into paroxysms of helpless laughter and involuntary spasms which menaced to dislodge his thin body and drive him to insanity or worst: his death.

Without notice Fabian felt the ominous torture was subsiding. When it finally stopped, he thanked God amid panting and coughing. He was too terrified and confused that he couldn’t form a coherent thought in his mind. However he felt as if he’s going to sleep for a whole month, but “the calm” lasted only a moment.

With his face and eyes bathed in sweat and tears he made out that the witches had retreated to his lower legs. He gasped and heaved, fearing the next target. He was painfully right: two witches crouched at the end of the bed and started to lick the soles of his feet like cats lapping a bowl of milk. Fabian felt as if waves of electric current were running through his young body: he began to convulse and howl in complete madness.

-NOAAAHAHAHAHAHATHATTICKLESTOOMUCH!!!! NOOHONOT ON MY FEET!!! NAHAHAHAHAHA!!! NO STOP! NOT MY FEET!!!! NEHEHEHEHE!!!! HIHIHIHEHEHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! NONONOHEHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!! I CANT STAND IT HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!! PLEASENOHEHAHAHAHAHAA!!!!

The witch had an accurate knowledge about the male body, so she focused her malice right here. Fabian writhed and squirmed hopelessly, the tongues kept licking at the exposed bottoms of his feet, between his wiggling toes, up the arches, making him laugh helplessly and beg for stopping! No stop. No lessen. No mercy. All he could do was receive, endure and laugh his head off as if it was the end of the world. His wide open mouth dribbling, his lungs burning for air, his riotous guffaws echoing within the enormous house just like a banshee in hell.

-The pink of your soles… oh the pink of your soles…

The witches made a leg-lock around his calves and held his toes back to make the soles stretched and taut. Then they devoted to scratch their fingernails the length of that super tender skin. Those evil nails travelled along his helpless soles with greed, not making any harm, just sliding gently over the delicate skin. Fabian bucked and pulled with all his youth might. Her fingers scratched the lad’s naked soles harder and faster as if her earthly presence totally depended on it.

-BHWAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!!!! AWWWHUHA-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHH!!!!! PLHEHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!! ICAHAHAHAANHNTT AWUAAAAHAHHHPLEHEHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!!!!!

The witches in his chest used her tongue to tickle his nipples with abandon. And with abandon the laughter poured out of him in response. Another lady came to deal with his groin and thighs. She slid her feathery fingers randomly around his penis and testicles. Thanks to the tight sheets he had little room to thrash around, so his exposed hips and sides received the whole treatment for long long time. Another lady twirled a finger into his navel. He tilted his head back and laughed without control. Meanwhile, she used her other hand to scribble down his belly: his flat stomach started bouncing like a jelly in an earthquake.

Meanwhile his teen cock was again ready to shoot his load.

The witch got oh so wicked! His whole body was shaking and his feet twitched wildly due to the way those fingernails and tongues treated his soles and toes. It was enough to drive him beyond madness. He was swimming in sweat, convulsing and braying with laughter. Every now and then his armpits were also tormented as well as his sides, ribs and belly.

On and on the foot-tickling continued, Fabian could only thrash his head about as he was tickle tortured with the cruelty that only displays the creatures from hell. On the screen of his phone was shown the picture of a naughty Samantha smiling to the camera. If she just could hear his desperate gales of laughter…

-NEAAAAEEEHAHAHAHAHEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!!!!!! NOOOOOHOHOHOHOHOOOHAAHAHA!!!! STAP PLEEEHEHEHEHEZZZZE I CAHAHAHAANHNN’T TAKE IT!!!! AHHHNOOOAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! PLEEEEESE!!! STOHOHOP! AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! HAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAAA!!!!!

The witch relished nibbling and munching his super ticklish soles.

-AAAWWWWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAHAHAA!!!!!

Minutes later, he came again. The foot-tickling never stopped.

-NOOOOOOOHHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!!!!

Sometime later, he came again, but the tickling torture went on…

-PLEEEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEZHEZHEZHEZHEZHEZHEZHEZZZ!!!!!!

Outside the magnificent old building, the silence reigned peacefully, like in some bucolic portrait of a charming town. A sign half hidden amid the overgrown grass on the railings says:

“WARNING - NO ENTRY - TRESPASSERS WILL BE TICKLED TO DEATH”

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lovedeluxe92 · 5 years

Text

okay so i started working at jimmy johns in early febuary of this year. i needed a job rlly bad and money desperately, just something to keep me afloat and to afford food. what i experienced...i was not at all prepared for lmao. i was sexually harassed, verbally harassed, had my hours fucked with, had management and even the owners of the company who could give a fuck less about their employees, had to deal with my fellow coworkers AND managers being on k2 and other drugs, and the final fucking straw which was getting my tip money stolen from me OUT OF THE SAFE BY A MANAGER. i started working as a delivery driver. which was INCREDIBLY stress inducing at first bc i worked at the one right downtown. i had to deal with

i started working as a delivery driver. which was INCREDIBLY stress inducing at first bc i worked at the one right downtown. i had to deal with

traffic, pedestrians NOT LOOKING WHERE THE FUCK THEY WERE GOING DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MANY PPL I ALMOST KILLED CAUSE /THEY/ DID NOT LOOK, we have ‘parking police’ and i legit got about 15-20 tickets during my time there bc that asshole was out for blood and anytime he saw my car, even if i wasnt parked illegally (oh did i mention we had like 3 parking spots all on the street and all with a 2 hour limit (: ) or hadnt been parked in a spot for the full 2 hours. so there was that.

see when i first started everything was fine. we had good employees who worked hard and did what they had to do. they were all stoners, but whatever i could care less about that. SO. our assistant manager, he was a mess. racist, homophobic, rude, loud. the worst. we would do dabs out in his car (yeah i know but i worked at a fucking jimmy johns) and he would just say the most questionable shit. i remember this one time he saw my phone background was a pic of me and my bf and was like ‘oh you like black guys? what’s your sex like? i bet it’s really good’ and im not gonna go into too much detail here, bc it upset me and its racist, but he kept going and said some REALLY creepy shit i was like wtf and told him to never speak to me like that again or i would report him for sexual harassment (side note: one time he thought i did report him for sexual harassment and was like “who are you gonna buy weed from now?” LITERALLY ANYONE YOU PIECE OF SHIT.) he would always be like “DAMN THICK’ whenever i would bend over and do everything. I TOLD MY MANAGER AT THE TIME. she didn’t do anything. AND the owners of the franchise definitely knew bc like...there’s cameras and they can hear everything we say? but no one did fucking anything. and i needed the money bad so i had to stay. of course i told him off constantly. he was white and always saying the n word. just a piece of fucking shit.

i think the happiest day of my life was when he FINALLY got fired. my manager had to go to another city for a week and help out that jimmy johns bc i guess ALL the employees and managers did a walk out (yeah this happens at all the jimmy johns owned locally in my area i wish i was kidding) and left his inept ass in charge. it took him 5 mins to make sandwiches (FREAKY FAST hello????) he was just a poor manager. but THEN he started using k2 again. and he was a zombie. there was no point of him even being there bc like he would just go to the back of the store and just stand in front of the freezer door staring for like 10-15 mins at a time.i was a driver and didnt know how to make sandwiches yet and this bitch seriously was just standing there cracked out of his mind on k2 in FRONT of customers (and i will say our customers were SO nice at least) takking phone calls slurring his words. it was embarrassing. i rememeber i had 2 customers who had waited almost a HALF HOUR for ONE sandwich bc i was having a panic attack and losing my fucking mind trying to make their sandwiches while he was in his truck getting high and refusing to come in. one of the customers actually gave me a tip and told me i was doing great and the other one was like ‘im so sorry this is happening to you, that guy is fucked up’. anyway, he passed out on k2 in his truck one night and got the cops called on him and got banned from the property :) i still saw him from time to time and he looked disgusting & miserable and it made me so happy.

mostly we just had grown ass employees, fucking 30 year olds, just acting like children. always on drugs. i had one coworker pretend to slap my ass and i called him out and he was like ‘it’s a joke im not apologizing’. people would try to take deliveries from me. AND LET ME JUST SAY, not even to fucking brag even slighly but i was the best worker there my entire time there bc regardless of where im working i am giving my 100% every day and no one else there would. but ppl always tried to step over me and did not respect me. we had one coworker who had 3 felonies and one day like 4-5 cops came to our store to tell us to call the cops the next time he showed up for work (surprise surprise he fled bc they took an hour to get to the store despite the fact we were literally like not even 4 blocks from the police station) and he was always high on k2. forever late. day after day no call no show. he had his friend get hired on who would go down to subway and talk shit about subway in his uniform??? lmao and subway called us one day and was like ‘can yall not?’ he also threatened to burn down the store and then my manager (who was always on a power trip if we’re being honest) purposefully withheld his paycheck to fuck with him, because he was fucking with her, so we dealt with him WAY longer than we should have?

then this one bitch that became manager, SOMEHOW, we were seriously always that desperate for staff and we hire anyone bc the managers are overworked af and just want to take the load off. anyway, SHE was always high on k2 as well. and she would always overshare rlly traumatic personal things from her life to me and all the customers and its like....girl we dont wanna hear that pls try and get some help. she was not currently being abused, i wanna specify. she was talking about things from her past. i sympathized with her but like im a victim of dv too lmao i dont wanna see your bruises without being asked first. and then i remember one day i left my money bag there (i kept my tips in it and had like $37 in there or something) and this bitch who was making MORE MONEY THAN ME seriously fucking went into the safe (we caught her on camera lmao) and stole that money out of my bag and left a few bills to make it seem less suspicious i guess??? lied about it to my face? then quit bc she ‘wasnt gonna sit there and be accused of something i didnt do’ like ok lmao

then to top it all off at one point my old manager just stopped giving a fuck and the store went to shit and we got complaint after complaint and she started being so rude to all of her staff, including myself (and we were like besties so i was devastated) and she cut my hours when she was submitting our work times for the checks because i would clock in early to help out....LIKE SHE ASKED? and it was just everything i said to her...her response was just the most rude and hateful voice and just....it was so rude. i cried every single day after work. she eventually got replaced and then quit

but then this new manager, whom i loved, was very depressed and just had a lot wrong with him mentally but he was still very....drama starting and attention seeking. he would talk about suicide nonstop 24/7 and not to be callous but it just made me so uncomfortable and triggered me so much? they did overwork him and i will attest and agree to that and he had a lot on his shoulders but he couldve gone to mcdonalds literally any day and gotten a job with better hours, better pay, and better benefits. i kept telling him over and over to leave bc he had so much managerial experience he couldve been hired anywhere! all resteraunts down here are perpetually hiring, especially for managers! i would know bc i was looking for another job lmao. but he’d text me every night saying things like ‘well lets hope i drink myself to death’ ‘suicide is painless’ etc. and it was just......VERY uncomfortable for me, as someone who has attempted suicide and still struggles with ideation from time to time lmao it was just the most triggering environment ever

like idk how i lasted that long but i worked my ass off, saved up my money, have a good paying job and im trying my best to forget this entire experience (honestly i did have some good times) but i really dont....think i can lmao

ON A POSTIVE NOTE: we had some of the kindest and most caring customers ive ever had in my life. i was shocked. but the amount of times i had a shitty customer in my entire time there i can count on one hand lmao like....even when they were shitty they were like ‘im sorry i know yall work hard and everything’ like i miss my customers SO MUCH because we actually had relationships with them and shit and ugh god. if the customers were shitty tho i would never have kept this job lmfao

i stayed at this job simply bc i made enough money for rent and my bills perfectly and it was one of the few jobs where i was paid an hourly wage + tips. and i wanted my next job to be a job in my field. that’s why i stuck around so long, it took some time to do that.

so yeah theres my mess i love anyone who read this and you can have my first born and be the beneficiary to my life insurance when i die

#tw: racism #tw: sexism #tw: suicide #tw: drugs #idk...what else to warn y'all about. just know this is a fucking #mess #i mean these arent horrific mentions of any of these things but i dont wanna trigger anyone unintentionally #better safe than sorry with tws

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thatgyngerjedi · 5 years

Text

A Tale of Why I Disrupt the Teachers

If you’ve ever taken a class with me before, you’ll notice two things about me. One, I tend to say stuff that is fun and/or disruptive depending on your POV. And second, I tend to get under some of my teacher’s skin. If there ever was a major that was “professional shit-talking and some how being likeable” I’d have a PhD in it and would be teaching at Bofa University, as in Bofa deez nuts because I’m a child like that and I got you.

So I’ve been asked where that part of my personality comes from and why I do it. The answer I tend to give is it just popped up, other then, my first month at Chico, it was my defense mechanism from being overwhelmed with everything. It’s also a way of keeping people interested in the teacher I think, because it makes the professor go off scripts they have written out. However, the truth is I didn’t know where that came from. And it’s one of those things that has routinely bugged me for the longest time. And after a long and deep amount of time thinking about it (that’s what she said), I’ve realized the source of it, and it goes not back to last year, but all the way back to when I was 4, and I unintentional created that personality trait for myself.

Before I tell it, there are some backstory that is necessary. At the time this takes place, my family lived in Sterling, Virginia. It was my hometown, or what I considered my hometown until my family moved to what I considered to be my second hometown in Front Royal, Virginia, and as a quick aside, Front Royal really is a place that has some interesting history and where I made my own bungee jump, but more Front Royal stories for another time because there is a lot there. Back to before the side, Sterling is really nothing to write home about. It is a small community, and as from the mouth of one of Sterling’s celebrity voices and my favorite comedian, Patton Oswalt, it’s a planned community where you can get trapped in it. There really isn’t much there besides a small amount of shops, schools and other things of that sort.

At the time, it was just my mom and dad, my brother and the obviously me because if it wasn’t this’d make no fucking sense. Now growing up, and this is one of those weird fucked up realities of my childhood and for some of my friends, is that my parents did a really good job of hiding financial struggles from us. In fact, over Christmas break, my dad and I were watching Extreme Couponing and he explained that him and my mom did that early on with me because it was fun and got them the most stuff to survive. It honestly is something I’m older, I can appreciate about my parents in-terms of, they made the best of the situation and did give me a great childhood which I’m grateful for. Makes my future bar for whenever I have kids that much better to understand. However, this frugality and usage of resources, is also an area where I can attribute that personality trait too.

Growing up, and even to my adulthood now, my dad loves Groupon. Any type of group coupon he’ll buy and use for adventures. It’s how I was able to go jet-skiing one spring break, or whenever I took my first archery lesson besides summer camp. Now when I was 4, I was obviously not ready for those types of actives, however my dad one day acquired a groupon for a free karate lesson at Jeff Smith’s Dojo in Sterling, Virginia and my parent immediately jumped on it. My parents’s logic as explained to me by my dad, was he wanted me to have a fun physical activity I could do, and it’d instill hard work values in me which I could hold onto till adulthood. It makes perfect sense, and yet accidentally created the mindset which I’ve grown to love and appreciate which my father doesn’t enjoy.

This is where I must explain who Jeff Smith is, and the significance of it. Besides having the award for one of the most basic fucking names I’ve ever heard of, Jeff Smith is actually a well-respected fighter. He’s got some history with Chuck Norris, as they were sparring partners for a time, which means Jeff Smith has survived a punch from Chuck Norris’s beard. He’s a high-level black belt, and clearly knows how to use it if you look at his fight record and the fact he was the World Light Heavy Weight Karate Champion back in the 70’s. His biggest accomplishment would be he was the undercard fight for the “Thrilla’ in Manila” probably in-terms of well-known events. The dude is a fighting beast, and he decided to open a dojo up in Sterling, Virginia because I’m guessing cheap rent? Or he just could make it in Los Angeles in the cooler dojo game. Either way, the guy is somebody you should listen to if you want to get good at karate, even to a master level like him.

Now the day came for this lesson at Jeff’s dojo, and my dad has told me, my parents were excited for it because of the goals they had in mind from it. We got to the dojo, and the people at the front desk had me get into a gi for the lesson. After that, I was sent out onto the floor with the other kids who were there for the free lesson, and my dad said I was having fun with them running around and my parents were happy. Growing up, and probably shaped my adulthood because of it, I was a quite kid. Didn’t really do a whole lot of socializing and just wanted to be alone to read or have fun with my imagination. Now 23, the same principle is in place, not so much reading that much anymore because I read essentially an almanac a week for class, but still alone with my imagination, even though I do enjoy and appreciate all the people in my life and will go do or organize stuff for myself if I wanna have that connection. But at the time, I hadn’t figured that out for myself yet, and so for me to being having fun with other kids made my parents happy.

So after some time, the lesson began. Now, on the groupon, it said we would be getting lessons from an instructor in the basics of karate. It’d be a fun hour session and there would be an option afterwards for discounted lessons if the parents enjoyed the experience and felt they were willing to pay out for more. Now my parents were expecting just that, some random instructor teaching class in Jeff Smith’s dojo. What we got, was Jeff fucking Smith himself teaching the class.

Jeff Smith comes out, and organizes us into lines, and had us kids do the basic drills. My parents watched as I punched and kicked with all the other kids in my class. And I don’t know if my parents thought this would be my calling in life, but seeing me do it, and have fun, must have inspired some thoughts of it in their heads. I’d like to think every parent thinks when their kid does a sport, that maybe someday, they’ll go pro with it, or better yet, the Olympics. And if it wasn’t obvious, my parents did in fact take pictures of me doing this with Jeff Smith and my class which are in a photo album of my childhood somewhere.

The hour goes by, and the lesson ends, there was a class following up with a different set of kids and instructors, so parents were trying to organize their kids out of the space. My parents, being one of those said parents, were trying to get us out of the way.. As they were leaving, and my dad did confirm with me, they were going to be getting those discounted lessons, Jeff Smith himself came up to my dad and mom. All Jeff Smith said was, “Come to my office with me please.”

Now this is where my mom and dad had no idea what was going to happen. They made sure first my brother and I were being looked after by a desk attendant as they went back to Jeff’s office. My dad has told me that him and my mom had many thoughts flying into their head about what would they be meeting about. Was it a good thing? Was it a bad thing? Maybe Jeff saw something in me that warranted a special talk in his office? Who the hell knows besides Jeff Smith.

They get to Jeff’s office and they both take seats opposite Jeff. The moment Jeff sits, he immediately clasped his hands and asked my parents what they thought of the lesson? Both my mom and dad replied they thought it was fun and that they’d be signing me up for more lessons. This is when Jeff Smith stopped them and said, we need to talk about that. Jeff proceeded to ask my parents, do you know boys develop and mature at their own pace and that’s nothing to be ashamed about right?

See, this is where I need to let it be known, that what was happening during the lesson. See for a while, I followed the directions, but then me being me, decided to do me things. Jeff Smith would try and give an instruction to the class, and instead of me obeying sensei Jeff Smith, I’d go charge and attack a dummy, which would cause the other students to follow me in doing that, which caused sensei Jeff Smith to have to reorganize the class and create order to try to teach again…and then I’d proceed to cause disorder again by going back to attacking the dummy and like before, the other students would follow me. This went on for an hour, and it happened multiple times. Fair to say, sensei Jeff Smith was mad, and seeing my parents start to make their way to the desk, probably only made him only more made, because he’d have to deal with me again.

So back to Jeff’s office talking to my parents. In the nicest terms, Jeff told my parents that I wasn’t mature enough to be taking classes. That I needed some more time before I was really ready for these lessons. As a compromise though, Jeff Smith let me keep my gi, which is something none of the other kids who weren’t going to be doing future lessons could do. Now, my dad has told me, he was pissed, but because Jeff Smith is Jeff Smith, he really couldn’t punch him out in his office, which honestly, probably for the best.

My parents left that dojo, sad and disappointed. Mostly because of the idea they had in their head. I was probably happy because gi’s are fucking awesome and essentially are sweats but more air, so I was happy I got to keep that. I understand my parent’s pain at the time. Nobody wants to hear that their kid is immature, even though it’s pretty fucking dumb to expect that out of 4-year-olds. Like name one mature 4 year-old in the history ever?

Now as my dad has told me this story, and he still is a little hurt by it. However, as I’ve explained to him now, he accepts my position, that his kid drove a guy who is a 10th degree black belt now, nuts. That his 4-year-old son, who at the time, had a bowl cut because my mom cut my hair which was peak ginger and red, sabotaged that class so much, Jeff Smith lost his cool and had to shut my shit down. That Jeff Smith, a guy who has taken a punch from Chuck fucking Norris, had to make a compromise to make it so I’d never come back, and lost a gi to a kid who would have rather read books about dinosaurs then do karate. And honestly, that’s fucking cool in my book.

So, before I conclude my tale, I feel it important to answer a question which might have arisen by now possibly, what the hell happened to Jeff Smith? Well, Jeff Smith is still in Sterling, Virginia. That dojo still exists, and Jeff runs a national martial arts franchise and consulting company. You can still check out Jeff’s dojo’s website at https://www.jeffsmithkarate.com/. Be warned, even though the year is 2019, the website looks fresh out of 2002. It’s that level of cringe. Is it really that expensive to hire a professional web designer? You could use Squarespace, who lets you seamlessly design a website with all their formats to get the most out of your business adventures. Note I’m not sponsored by Squarespace, but if Squarespace hears this, just know I’m ready to ship the fuck out of your site to pay off some student loan debt and I did that shit so smooth too! Overall, he’s happy it looks like, and I can’t be mad about that because everybody does…but I did send him an email that just said, “I Won” and that’s it, and I’m enjoying knowing he’ll have no idea what that means or what I won.

As for me, I really look back on that experience, and even though I do not remember it, it’s a good basis for who I am I feel. I just like doing my own stuff in life. I’m independent like that and happy. And no matter what happens to me, it’s nice knowing I’ve got that disruptive spark in me. Because at the end of the day, what’s the fun of life if you can’t break the rules and make a few people mad sometimes?

#disrupt #rainydayread #laugh #pleaseclap #jeffsmith #gi

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moonraccoon-exe · 6 years

Note

Papa Ravus and twin daughters -3-

Hello and sorry for taking so long! Hope you understand it’s taken me a while.

Here’s the first Papa Ravus post, and here’s the “Ardyn with twin daughters” post that seemed to have inspired requester to also drop this one. :3

It’s been a while since we’ve been in Papa mode, but let’s see what happens (˙︶˙)

Ravus with twin daughters:

Ravus chose to be single dad, romance is not much his jam but he does want to have kids, so he requested to rent a belly/womb.

King Ravus himself went personally with the lady who accepted the offer and he asked her “as a human being, not as your king, if it really is alright with you?”

Ravus asked she was medically tested first just to make sure it’d be as safe as possible for her to get pregnant.

Ravus worries that because of “a tantrum of my own” (which really ain’t tantrum, Ravy, it’s okay to want to be single parent

This man was put through so much pain in so many ways he’s grown a ridiculously huge heart and wants everyone to be okay.

His own cold, blank-faced way, but rly he’s just a cinnamon roll.

I am digressing.

Ravus checked on the pregnancy process almost daily.

You should have seen his reaction when he heard it was twins.

“My, what do we have here? C: King Ravus, it’s a baby girl!”

Ravus’ eyes go wide and he loses his breath and his heart drops to his feet.

“And she’s in company of a twin sister! Isn’t that wonderful, your Majesty? :3″

The doctor requested somebody bring him a chair and some nurse bring him oxygen.

No kidding.

Ravus literally loses the breath at that, he clutches at his chest and a hand blindly looks somewhere for support.

The gods bless there’s a nurse there to help him sit down and help him recover the breath.

“Ohmygod, your Majesty please calm down ;____;”

Eventually Ravus was able to recover the breath.

He’s so pale the nurse isn’t sure if he has to ask the doctor if they should make some blood transfusion

“Are you alright, your Majesty?”

“Yes, yes…I uhm…it was…shocking. It was only the initial shock. I expected a child; two is a surprise. That’s all.”

“A very wonderful surprise, isn’t it!? :3″

Ravus opens the mouth to reply but all that he does is shut the mouth and nod, looking upset in some way nobody can read.

Omg everyone shut up bc nobody’s sure what’s in his head.

Ravus goes back to his blank expression and unmovable attitude for the rest of the appointment and then goes back to his chambers.

Lunafreya is there (nobody died and no years of darkness AU because I need it okay, shut up)

“Brother! How did it go? :)”

Ravus breaks down in front of her.

He just looks at her in total silence some moments, and then his face transforms into a frown of mere pain and sadness.

Ravus stays quiet for some long seconds just looking at her with his ever-second-more-pained expression.

He puts the head down and just starts crying.

Lunafreya approached him, worried, and grabbed his hand to silently guide him nearby a chair. She had wanted him to sit down but he didn’t, he just kept the hands on his face and cried and cried.

She sat instead, and he went down on his knees in front of her and she let him rest his head on her lap, and he cried and cried while she caressed his hair.

He seems so broken omg Lunafreya is EXTREMELY WORRIED.

She’s thinking there were bad news, that they could have lost the baby, that there were complications or something as terrible.

“…they’re twin girls, Luna” Ravus cries out to her, unable to stop crying. “I am having two baby girls…”

Luna takes a moment before she understands and feels great peace in her heart.

Still she doesn’t stop caressing his hair.

“But then why are you crying, brother? (˙︶˙)”

“…I am just…so happy…”

Ravus is so happy it literally hurts.

This poor creature.

He cried to exhaustion, the poor thing.

He’s impossibly happy, he’s also a bit sad because he doesn’t understand how “after all the terrible actions I did in the past” he “deserves this amounts of happiness and this blessing”, and he’s excited but also a bit scared because he’s going to be a first time dad, and he’s not sure he can handle two girls.

It’s not that he’s scared of not being capable of handling them, it’s that he “doesn’t want to ruin their lives”.

Ravus please you’ll do great just calm down

If you thought him overdramatic by checking on the pregnancy daily, imagine him now that it’s close to the day of birth and that these are TWINS

Omg he read on the net that that’s twice the risks

Ravus, stop reading on the net, it’ll only make you more paranoid

Don’t worry, everything turned out fine when it was the day

Ravus tried to be present during birth but he exited bc he’s so tense and nervous he’s sure he’s going to pass out

But as a dad he’s in debt with the lady that rented him her womb so it’s only right that he stays by her side during the pains and all.

The doctor is sure Ravus passed out at least twice

Nobody can tell because he’s sat on a chair at a side holding the lady’s hand and sometimes he rests the forehead to the bed

At first they thought he was just trying to calm down

Doctor now swears he actually passed out multiple times

Ravus has a poor management of emotions, please comprehend him

When they were born, Ravus refused to hold them because he’s shaking too much

He only looked at them in total shock and when they offered he carried them, he just tried, burst out crying, handed them back and he had to go a long way between crying, exiting for a breath, walking around, crying a bit once more and taking another breath before he was capable of trying again.

Which was good, that gave time for the babies to be with biological mommy (that’s so necessary post birth omg the poor creatures are terrified and need their mom)

Wow I thought I had nothing to say, I’m a deep way into this and the babies are just being born

I hope you’re not bored, anon

Ravus just gives me so many feels, Papa!Ravus skyrockets them.

When he finally held them, he didn’t let go in hours.

He only let go when the doctor requested it and explained they needed to be looked after just to make sure it’s all fine.

All the time he held them Ravus was super quiet and he looked between serious and sad, but wasn’t crying anymore.

The next few months, Ravus is switching all his attention (that doesn’t interfere with the most important king duties to attend) between attending the babies and the lady.

Ofc they ain’t married and she’s not gonna be there after she heals, but if she needs recovery that’s bc of pregnancy and she did it so Ravus could have his baby girls,and pregnancy isn’t easy in any moment so he’s in debt with her

That’s a gentleman doing things right, people, attending and being properly grateful

You learn from him

King Noctis sent Ignis and lady Iris his way; Ignis can attend minor royal duties for him and Iris can look after either the babies or the lady.

Not like Ravus doesn’t have his own advisor and attendants, but a little extra help never harms

He’s a king but he’s also a human being being dad for the first time YOU LET HIM TAKE THE CROWN OFF FOR A MOMENT, OKAY!? >:(

Once the lady recovers, he’s dedicated that time for his babies.

You should have seen this man preparing the room for his babies

He was a bossy mess of “BUT WHY THIS TONE OF GREEN, I ASKED EMERALD NOT GRASS THEY’LL BE MY PRINCESSESS THEY DESERVE A PRETTIER GREEN >:(”

“BUT WHY IS THIS CRIB SO FAR FROM THE OTHER- you know what never mind get rid of these cribs I WANT A DOUBLE SIZE DONE, these are TWINS, they HAVE to be together, WHAT WAS I THINKING”

“OHMYGOD I KNOW I HAVE TO BE IN COUNCIL RIGHT NOW BUT IF I LET THE PAINT DRY OUT THEN THIS TONE OF PURPLE WILL BE DIFFERENT TO THAT TONE OF PURPLE, DO YOU WANT THIS ROOM TO NOT BE PERFECTLY SYMMETRICAL!?”

“what if they don’t like green”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT’S PRETTY LIKE THIS, NO, THIS BLOODY PAINT WHAT WAS I THINKING I NEED AN ARTIST I CAN’T DO IT MYSELF”

“what was I thinking this is beautiful but has no emotion”

“WHY DID YOU BRING ME THIS SHADE OF WHITE, IT’S LIKE CLOUDS AND I ASKED PEARL”

“Ravus, you’ve painted this five times already”

“I NEED IT TO BE PERFECT >:’‘‘(”

He still can’t handle his emotions.

But don’t worry this happened long before the babies had to occupy the room so all paint is dry

They stayed there a few hours

then ravus grew paranoid and had their crib be taken to his room

all this effort just so he ended up with them in his room

Ravus is randomly waking up in the middle of the night to check on them, even when they don’t cry

He likes to spend a lot of time just staring at them

Both have his shade of grey on the little locks of hair on their heads

Ravus likes to stare because each time he finds something like a birthmark, the way or direction the hair grows, the shape of eyelashes, little tics, etc

Besides, like in the original post, he’s philosophied so much on the meaning of ‘daughter’ and ‘twins’ that he’s marveled by their presence, and it’s a strange concept and he loves it

Ravus is scared of learning to change diapers

It’s his Magitek arm

He doesn’t want to accidentally hurt neither of them

At first he tried learning with only an arm

He grew frustrated

Look at how adorable of a dad this man is:

Ravus is going to wear a wool glove on his Magitek hand so that it’s soft and warm to the touch for baby girls

He’s grateful for attendants and nannies because having a baby is very time consuming and he has TWO newborns, and he’s in charge of an entire kingdom, but really he wants to learn all that a normal dad and mom learn and spend time with them.

That’s why he’s changing diapers even though in theory he doesn’t even need to

Little girls won’t allow anybody that isn’t Ravus to bathe them.

They’ll complain and cry if somebody tries, and Ravus has to go hold them and do it himself.

Ravus likes to bathe them at the same time, so they spend time together and that way he’s not taking the eyes off neither of them

Baby girls are spending the while together, but really their main focus is given all to Ravus

They’re staring and giggling and making grabby hands at him all the time while he’s bathing them instead of playing together

Ravus isn’t what you call ‘Playful’, so he’s not playing with them; he’s just taking a motherly care of them and worrying

Whenever they make grabby hands at him or seem impatient, Ravus caresses their cheek very tenderly and lovingly, and they either burst giggling or make a baby soundof agreement/pleasure

Ravus is mostly blank faced even now with his kids

Except now it isn’t “I am angry at you, him, her, they, us, it and myself and I hate the world” kind of blank face, but rather “I am calm, a bit worried, quiet”, looking almost sort of naive, even.

Ravus takes his time bathing them.

He’s scared of accidentally hurting or dropping or any accident happening

He’s the silently-paranoid kind of dad

Sometimes baby girls like to splash water on each other; Ravus smiles every time

The babies are a lot like papa, and they aren’t a hyperactive mess, even though they do laugh and giggle and like to play around

When they started crawling, Ravus started crawling with them

He didn’t think about it, he was just sat on the floor with them, and suddenly a baby girl pulled herself on hands and knees and started crawling

Ravus was SO AMAZED

It was like a kid discovering a fairy; he’s all *GASPS* WOAAH .A. and so without thinking he starts crawling after her/at her side, staring as she crawls

Baby girl #2 got inspired by her sister and papa and started crawling too

“*GAAASP .A.”

Please don’t open the door,there’s a .o. faced Ravus crawling after a pair of babies

Ravus likes to put bows on their heads; Baby girl #1 always wears silver ribbons and Baby girl #2 always wears purple ones

Ravus isn’t fan of dressing them the same clothes because he doesn’t want to confuse them

“Why do people do that, anyway? Why do they enjoy suffering finding out ho is who?”

“Ravus, you can identify which girl is which when they’re only in diaper”

“Yes, but what if I see them from afar and can’t tell which is which?”

“Ravus, it’s just cute that they dress the same.”

“It’s ridiculous. Each is an independent and strong baby, each should have her own style.”

“…Ravus they’re seven months old.”

Still, Ravus just doesn’t see the point in dressing them the same

He does, however, enjoy dressing them in something that matches but isn’t the same

Like same design of dress, but different colors

Or one wears Mickey the other is Minnie (can I have Disney in FFXV pls)

Ravus wanted to be the one in charge of teaching them to walk.

The man got extra soft foam mats especifically for this task

If they’re gonna fall, they better land somewhere extra soft

Ravus spends hours just teaching them

He’s incredibly patient, you wouldn’t believe it

Whenenver one of the girls gets to walk some steps, he’ll receive her in arms and cuddle her for some moments, giving encouraging phrases, and then he’ll continue trying so they improve

Even after they master their walking, he’s going to stay there still “teaching them” just for the hugs

The three love them, dammit

Ravus lived a tough military life so he’s not playful, but he tries to have fun with the girls

If they wanna poke him, he’ll let them; if they want to make him laugh, he’ll chuckle; if they want him to chase them, he will..he’s not going to be roaring and making dramatic faces, but he wlil chase after them because he knows they’re having fun

Ravus, his own way, is sort of having fun too

Baby girls are yelping out and giggling when he’s after them

He stays quiet but smiles and chuckles at times

Omg you should see these girls when they think it’s safe, and suddenly Ravus appears by the corner

“AH!!!! AHAHAHHAHAHAHA! o(≧▽≦)o”

Ravus is just there like (˙︶˙)

Baby girls team up to “attack” him

Ravus always let them win

Ravus can hear and sense them when they’re hiding behind something or under something, but he won’t say a thing.

He’ll even get in a vulnerable spot and position on purpose, so that they can jump onto him.

“Oh! Oh no, you have got me! Oh, no, you are so strong, I cannot stand back up. Oh, no. The pain. I surrender; I surrender, my princesses.”

Ravus is a bad actor

But baby girls don’t know that and they’re SUPER PROUD OF THEMSELVES AND THEIR SISTER OMFG THEY WON AGAINST DADDY! ( ´ ▽ ` )

Baby Girl #1 likes to chew on his ear when he’s down there being attacked.

Baby girl #2 likes to smack his back

Baby girls, ever since they were tiny, like to takea cloth and rub on papa’s Magitek arm for some reason

They want it to be SHINY

Ravus let them

Ravus was very wary of letting them nearby his arm, but he’s picked them up with it, has changed diapers, bathes them, and he figures he’s got no reasons to worry; it’s metal, but it’s his arm, after all, so he controls it and he would never do any harm to his babies

The babies may be quiet like papa, but they’re still incredibly curious

They’re trying to grab everything

Ravus used to be a paranoid mess

He got used very quickly to the girls’ constant attempts of grabbing everything that he’s mastered the technique Catch Them Without Looking

Baby girls trying to take the sword, he’s calmly taking it and putting it away

baby girls are trying to undo the belts of his boots, he’s reaching down to put them away

Baby girl #1 is trying to grab a glass and Baby #2 tries to grab a coin, Ravus keeps talking with Accordo’s first secretary without taking his eyes off her and grabs both babies without moving from his chair.

Baby girls like to play with his hair

Baby girls, when they grow to like 4 or so, start refusing to sleep until Papa goes say goodnight

Baby Girls call him “Dadvus” for quite a long while

Ravus isn’t sure who gave them the idea, but he’ll find them and probably smack and thank them at the same time

Ravus thinks art is very necessary in life, especially as a child, so he’s taking them to so many orchestra concerts and plays and dance performances.

Baby girls love it and always are a mess of clapping and cheering

Baby girls are performing their own dances in their room

Sometimes Ravus joins

Usually he just has to stand there and move the arms a little while baby girls dance around them

Lunafreya says it’s like a daemonic ritual and they’re sacrificing him to the gods

Ravus is also trying to get them into literature

He’s bought so many children book, he could make a library out of them

He does, actually

He gets an unimportant small room of the palace and asks it be turned into a library for his kids

As ages go it turns into the girls’ safe heaven

Every time Ravus knows one of them is sad, he’ll go to the little library and she’ll probably be there

Ravus is the best at comforting

Ravus understands pain very well, so he understands that it’s not about making them laugh; he’ll sit with them or lie at their side (Girl #2 particularly does lie on the floor when she’s sad) and he’ll just stay in absolute silence all the time

Usually baby girls end up crying and climbing onto him or snuggling at his side

That’s when Ravus hugs and kisses their head, but still says nothing

Curiously, it’s that he never asks what’s wrong and only offers his company what makes the sisters grow confident and trusty enough to tell him without being asked

Ravus likes reading to them when they still don’t know how to

He’ll sit with both on his lap and the book in front of the three, so he reads and teaches them like that

Ravus won’t skip the page if a baby girl insists she reads it until she gets it just fine

Ravus can spend an hour in the same page just to let them stare at the drawings and repeat the same words

(sometimes they get so excited they read an entire sentence they’ll repeat it over and over)

Ravus sits at a side of their bed (the girls still want to share bed) to read them bedtime stories

When they were like 5 they asked him to do it but lie in bed with them

Ravus doesn’t get the point of holding a book above his face , it’s tiring

He’s not complaining just because each twin is snuggled to each of his sides

Sometimes Ravus doesn’t bring a book; he’ll just lie in bed and tell them stories

At first he was telling them stories he had heard or learned or that he remembered (maybe sometimes altering a few facts, bc it may be too explicit)

He soon starts inventing his own stories

Papa Ravus has more than once fallen asleep there telling them stories

The twins’ even breath, so calm and peaceeful, and both so warm snuggled at their sides, it’s very soothing and he just…falls asleep

If King Ravus isn’t in his bed at morning, he’ll be at the girls’

Ravus has FAR MORE THAN JUST ONCE

as in SO MANY MORE TIMES

SO MANY TIMES

woken up with rainbows and other things drawn on his face

Seems like it’s a genetic thing bc baby girls are showing themselves to be early wakers, except they’re still kids so they wake up even EARLIER than Ravus himself

Thank the gods Ravus always showers before starting the day or he’d have….

….well it DID happen twice or three times, in his lazy days, that he went to have breakfast before showering

He’s got moogles drawn on his face

He’s going through the hallways of the palace greeting everyone, with moogles drawn on his face

Speaking of moogles, the girls love them

SO MUCH

It’s from the days Iris spent as temporary helper in the Fleuret palace, and once the babies were crying so much but they weren’t hungry or sleepy or dirty, so the only thing Iris thought about was to give them a moogle plush toy

Ever since then, the girls want EVERYTHING moogle themed

The room is moogle themed; walls and bedsheets and plush toys and their old onesies and their pajamas

Ravus has sworn to Lunafreya he will burn the room as soon as they grow tired of it

“Why do you hate moogles?”

“I don’t have them. But they are obsessed. I’m getting tired of seeing so many moogles.”

Ravus once held a moogle plush in hands and glared at it

“…of course it had to be. My curse, set by an Amicitia. Bloody Amicitias.”

Ravus had to agree once to dressing like a moogle mascot for his kids during winter celebrations

How can anybody say no to those sparkly, huge, beautiful grey eyes?

Ravus is not going to repeat that

He would have, if Lunafreya hadn’t taken photos of him

King Noctis has been sending him moogle memes ever since that day

Speaking of eyes

Each baby girl already claimed one of their father’s eyes

Ohmygod that sounds so creepy

Baby girl #1 says that the silver eye is hers, and Baby girl #2 says purple one is hers

(see what I did, it’s like the colors of their bows)

The girls aren’t allowed to touch the eye that isn’t their own

Because Ravus lets them touch his eyes

They are obsessed

“They are so pretty, papa, you don’t understand(」°ロ°)」”

Little girls are following Ravus everywhere, in a line, like ducks or chocobos

Ravus is mama hen

He’s going places and the twins walk in a line behind him

Whenever Ravus turns to face them, they’ll just look up at him and smile and say nothing

Ravus won’t question them

Ravus is letting them walk into the Council room and everywhere else except the bathroom

As they grow and Ravus starts attending his king duties with the time they require, baby girls start following him even more

Sometimes when they are “playing” (Ravus still plays in his strange style) and Ravus is called somewhere else, the twins will tackle or throw themselves to him screaming “NOOOOO” and try to stop him

It always worked when they were tiny, they landed on him and he was thrown on the ground helpless, right?

Nope ahahaha

Ravus is standing up with the girls hanging from him and going where he’s needed

There’s king Ravus, with a girl hugged to his back and the other hanging from his magitek arm

They’re biting him

Ravus is so strong and big he can just grab them by the back of their shirt or dress like they’re lion pups and put them down and away

Baby girls are waiting outside the council or throne room, sat in the hallway, arms crossed and refusing to leave until papa comes out

They’ll leave if Ravus, before or during or after his duties, gives them The Stare

It’s not mean or aggresive, it’s just a stare with a slight raise of the eyebrows and a slight tilt of the head that says “Baby girls, this is not right and I ask you to be good, please.”

Baby girls usually understand and stand up and behave really good with the nannies and allow them to walk them back to their room or the little library or the gardens while papa does his stuff

Ravus was put through such a harsh training and education when he was taken by Niflheim that he’s grown very wary and a bit terrified of nagging, and that’s why he sounds so soft with his girls

As in, he doesn’t like raising his voice at them or frowning or nagging them as normal

He’s trying to raise them in a way so that he can have soft but firm conversations and interactions with them so they don’t grow too pampered but also so he doesn’t have to raise his voice at them or anything

He’s just….so affected after Niflheim, that when he raises the voice just a notch at them and he sees their big and innocent eyes, he feels like he’s torturing them or something and he doesn’t want to be the bad guy :(

Ravus is raising them the “let’s express our feelings” way

“Clean your room, please” instead of “Look at this disaster”, “It’s time we go; say goodbye” instead of “how long are you going to make me wait?”, “Do not leave my side, okay?” instead of “where do you think you’re going?”, “Listen to me, please” instead of “I’m talking to you”, etc.

You thought Lunafreya could make a big change in his personality?

Pfft. She ain’t gotten nothing compared to his daughters.

The girls like to cling from his legs

There goes king Ravus through the hallways of the palace, with a girl hugged to each of his legs

Ravus is very strong and they weight nothing, so sometimes he literally forgets he’s got these pair hugged to his legs

He once walked into an important reunion with Niflheim’s Chancellor (a good one now that everything is peace, fight me) forgetting the girls were clinging to his legs

Remember how Ravus is grateful for nannies and such but wants to learn all that other dads and moms learn too?

Ravus asked Lunafreya to teach him to braid hair

The girls behave a lot like fairy tale princesses so they like to wear pretty hairstyles, and Lunafreya’s attendants or Luna herself always comb their hair as they want

Well Ravus wants to do it too

It feels important

Ravus was actually very slow at learning

It was already rather difficult on him, a Magitek hand isn’t much help

Ravus is practicing with a wig, and the hair sometimes gets stuck between the articulations of his metal arm

The poor thing isn’t giving up

He wants to be able to do this for his daughters

Ravus is going to practice every single day :’)

It took five months before Ravus dared try on Lunafreya

Ravus is the slowest person to braid hair

THE SLOWEST

He’s still scared of causing any harm and he’s nervous, so he’s doing it very slow

Luna’s neck and back hurt after sitting wtill and tense for so long but she’ll say nothing on it

Ravus has self-esteem but after Niflheim it’s incredibly fragile, so he needs this confidence

It takes him another 5 months of practicing with Lunafreya before he dares try with his daughters

King Ravus is always late to his duties from then on

“What were you occupied with, your Majesty?”

“My daughters wanted a double braid.”

His daughters are more important than his kingdom most days FIGHT HIM

During royal balls, Ravus will always ask his daughters for a dance

He carries both and dances with both at the same time a song, and then he’s dancing with each one individually

It’s super adorable

He does that ever since they were babies and couldn’t even speak yet

When they were babies, Ravus would carry them and dance himself

When they grow and can walk no troubles, it’s even more adorable because Ravus has to bend down (unless the girls ask him to pick them up)

Giant Ravus bent down and reaching the hands down so baby girl can take them and they can dance

Ravus was very moody when they started going to school outside the palace

“How can you all trust your child’s education to absolute strangers?”

Ravus, that’s….that’s your Tenebraean people, you should trust these teachers

Ravus never had anything against school until his daughters started going

Don’t worry he’ll grow used to it

Ravus is secretly sending undercover guards to make sure the girls make it safe to school and back

Like they don’t already have the man that picks them up

Ravus has tried going himself but #KingDuties

“Fuck being a king ヽ(`⌒´メ)ノ“

“RAVUS! Language D:”

“…gently fuck being a king.”

Don’t worry he doesn’t really hate it, he just gets moody lapses

Little girls still enjoy wearing their bows

Ravus now can braid their hair and decorate it with bows

He actually enjoys doing that

It’s very relaxing and he spends time with his daughters, so

He’s fan number 1 of braiding their hair

He lets them braid his hair

He’s letting them put bows on it, too

Whenever he’s in front of the media, Ravus is going to ask each of his daughters if she wants to stay

All the flashes, so many people, and all that noise can be overwhelming, so he’s not forcing them to stay if they don’t wanna

(I stole that from Britney Spears,omg, that’s a good mother)

Ravus is going to watch all the kid movies that the girls want to watch

Ravus will agree to dressing as the prince or hero of the movie for them

King Ravus is enemy number one to King Noctis on the social sites of internet during Night of All Saints (All Hallow’s Evening equivalent of Eos that I just impprovised); who’s got the best costumes, the Lucian king and his companions, or king Ravus, his sister and the little girls?

It’s almost always a draw

The girls behave like fairy tale princesses

Fairy tale princesses that love playing in mud

Some of Ravus’ clothes have had to be thrown because the girls always rush to hug him when they see him and sometimes they’re covered in so much mud, Ravus’ usual white clothing gets eternally stained

The only thing Ravus isn’t willing to do is cut their nails

He gets very nervous

Perhaps it’s a subconscious reminder; Niflheim gadgets, torture tools, all the weapons he saw, etc., so it just makes him very nervous to get something that he knows works to cut nearby his daughters

Ravus and his liking for art and how important he considers it to be lead him to teach music to his daughters

Except it’s been so long since he last had any music lessons himself

Niflheim and a war got in the way so

He’s re-learning with them

Ravus used to play cello, but he hates the sounds he’s making now due to his metal arm on the strings and the different sound it cause

So he’sp icking up flute

Metal against metal too makes sound, but what maters is what comes out of the air not the fingers

this isn’t an excuse for flute player moon raccoon to force flute onto one of its fave characters

Twin girls are picking Viola and Cello duo

Twin girls team up to still attack Ravus

Ravus now is showing “resistance”

Really he’s not fighting, just catching them beforre they land on him

Ravus will teach the girls into self-defense arts and the use of rapiers

Twin girls are going to grow becoming AMAZING fighters

Another thing similar to original post happens:

“Papa, can we get our own Magitek arm when we grow up, too? (ノ*°▽°*)“

“No.”

“〣( ºΔº )〣 BUT WHY ＼(º □ º l|l)/“

On their ninth birthday, Lunafreya gifted the twins one of those necklaces that splits in three parts.

The twins didn’t even need to ask, they ran to go gift the third part to Ravus

Ravus expressed later on to Luna that he would have wished it had been four parts because “you’re my family too, and theirs.”

Lunafreya explained that she knows and that nothing can change that, but there’s something very particular and special in the father-to-daughters bond, she wanted them to have something that’s only theirs

Ravus is going to wear it, along Lunafreya’s childhood moon necklace, every single day until the very same day that he dies

Ravus likes to sit at the gardens at night with both his daughters just to talk about anything and everything

He likes sitting among the flowers, not on benches

The three also enjoy of the silence of the gardens.

No matter how busy he is, Ravus will always go say bye and wish his daughters a good day at school before they have to leave

No matter how busy he is, Ravus will always go wish them goodnight

If Ravus can, he will move appointments or duties to later in the evening just so he can have lunch with the girls

Ravus will allow the kids to “camp” at the gardens

He’s also secretly placing a guard for the night to watch on them

“Papa, we want a chocobo :)”

Ravus wil get the damn chocobo no matter if he has to go to Lucis himself

Ravus will ‘scare’ the kids that he thinks are mean to his daughters

Really he just needs to stand there and frown a bit to said kids for them to run away

There’s not another kind of kiss that Ravus loves more than forehead kisses for his daughters

Each morning, each night, he’ll kiss each their foreheads

He also likes to caress their hair as he does, or when they’re asleep

Even when they’re grown and in separate beds, Ravus sometimes still wakes up in the middle of the night to go check on them

He always tucks them in if they’re uncovered, and give a kiss to their heads

His girls are truly a blessing to him, he still can’t understand how he deserves this happiness and these precious girls, so he may be a bit overprotective and a bit “exaggerated” about loving them.

Ravus sometimes gets poetic with them about it

He has expressed to them about how he “loves them so much, I get frustrated because all the years of my life will not be enough to demonstrate it as you deserve, but if this is the only life I have got to do it, I will dedicate it entirely to you.”

He doesn’t mean that he’s going to gift them every second of his existance, just that everything he does will be done dedicated to them, thinking about them

Which, as consequence, drives Ravus to become a much better person of himself each day, and helps him to be the best version of himself :)

Aaah! Now that was quite a post! ( ´ ▽ ` )

I hope you liked it anon, I put lots of love and time in here so I hope some of that love is visible in there ♡ ～(‘▽^人)

Tell me if you liked it? ヽ(・∀・)ﾉ

#papa ravus #papa series #ravus is such a soft and tender dad #he's got so much love to give #his own way but lots of love anyway #coon answers #coon writes #coon headcanons #coon stories

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imaginarybird · 7 years

Text

Because Reasons

@frankchurchillsaysrelax requested Emmett and Elle from Legally Blonde+enemies to friends to lovers+girl/boy next door+High School/College/Teacher AU... And this was born.

It’s not that Emmett hates his new co-chair of the history department on principle (although the position was supposed to be his and his alone this year). It’s not even that he hates her for constantly parking her car in his unofficial parking spot, or for always playing the most ridiculously upbeat pop music in her office that shares a wall with his, or even that she doesn’t believe in written exams and only uses glittery feather topped pens that write in pink ink.

No, the real problem is that her proposal for a student-run news magazine garners at least five times the student interest as his debate team proposal. And when she gets voted the head of the senior send-off committee--a position he’s held with pride for years as the de facto young staff member. And when all of his students start trying to transfer from his classes in favor of hers, and when that doesn’t work, they start attending her after school study sessions instead of his.

All of this coming together, along with her renting the house next door to his so there’s literally no getting away from her… that’s what makes it impossible to stand Elle Woods.

“Emmett, so glad you can join us.” Elle says from the front of the classroom where the senior send-off committee meeting is taking place before school starts, where she’s writing some bullet points on the whiteboard with one of her signature pink markers. “Don’t worry, you’re only ten minutes late so all you’ve really missed is the summary of the last meeting.”

Reason #24 Emmett tries to avoid dealing with Elle at all costs: she’s always so… perky. Even when she’s being passive aggressive, or downright cutthroat when they’re arguing, Elle is smiling. She’s sweet and smiling and powerful and beautiful and it’s just not normal.

He clenches his jaw as he answers. “The staff parking lot was full.” Because she had pulled into it about fifteen seconds before him and taken his spot. “I had to go to the public lot on the other side of campus.”

“Oh, you should plan ahead next time.” She offers. “It must take about...ten minutes or so to drive over there and walk back.”

“You don’t say.”

The meeting progresses as they always do--everyone presents their ideas, he and Elle snark at each other, everyone likes Elle’s ideas best, he tries to point out the implausibility or the impropriety of doing something like throwing a casino night for a bunch of graduating high schoolers and gets ignored, they snark some more, and somehow he ends up getting volunteered to cover Elle’s detention duty for the month so she can focus her energy on planning the entire venture, starting this afternoon.

Reason # 25: Somehow she can convince anyone to do what she wants. Even when it’s inconvenient for them and they don’t want to do it at all.

He’s in an awful mood for the rest of the day, and because he has to supervise detention, he gets on the road late to head back upstate for his mom’s birthday dinner. Most of the drive is spent mentally cursing Elle’s name because it was her detention duty to begin with and it’s his fault that he ended up taking it and getting stuck in rush hour, and getting to his mom’s nearly an hour later than he had promised.

Even after the dinner, after a nice night with his mom, he’s stuck driving back in the driving rain so it’s dark and miserable and tense and slow again and Emmett can’t help but think somehow that that’s Elle’s fault too.

It would be just like her to be able to control the weather.

Reason # 26.

He finally gets home and all he wants to do is crawl into bed but he can’t. The neighborhood is lit up like the Fourth of July with the flashing blue and red lights of several police cars. And they’re all gathered in the driveway and on the lawn next to his.

Emmett’s heart jumps up into his mouth in the moments between figuring out where all the cops are and spotting Elle’s blonde hair and pink trench coat amongst the crowd and realizing that whatever had happened, she was all right. He feels sick anyways as he gets out of his car and takes in the whole scene.There are broken windows, the front door is barely on its hinges...he can only imagine what the inside of the house must look like… How scared Elle must be if she were inside.

Reason # 27: She’s not despicable enough. He can’t stand her and yet he’s worried about her anyway. How is any of this fair?

With a slight sigh he gets out of his car, upturning the collar of his jacket against the rain and crosses over to Elle’s lawn, just to ask the police what exactly had happened.

Elle spots him before he can even get a word out and rushes over; she pulls him into a hug that lasts far too long considering they’ve only ever shaken hands before and he thinks maybe, possibly, that she might be crying onto his shoulder.

Completely unsure of what to do, Emmett uses one hand to pat Elle on the back. Once, then twice, and she pulls away before he can go for a third tap.

“Oh my god, Emmett it’s awful. I got home and someone had broken in! The house is a disaster, my things are all over the place or missing…”

“So you weren’t inside when it happened? You’re OK?”

“I’m fine.” Elle nods, crossing her arms over her chest. “Whoever it was broke in while I was at the grocery store. They were gone by the time I got back. Which is too bad because I took four years of krav maga in college and I would have been more than happy to dust off my skills if I had found the skeezy jerk who painted such a disgusting message in my room.”

It takes a second for Emmett to parse out the most important information there. “Wait, you went in the house? Before the police got here?”

“Of course! I had to see if they had taken anything.”

Reason # 28: She has positively no sense of self-preservation.

But Emmett can barely contemplate it before one of the police officers comes over, provides Elle with a rundown of what they’ve found thus far, and tells her she’ll need to find a place to stay for the night. Elle looks suddenly small again, soaked from the rain and more than a little nervous about the whole affair. His mouth and brain refuse to communicate on the matter.

“She can stay with me.”

Gaining a roommate in Elle Woods is an experience unto itself.

She critiques the contents of his shower (“Emmett, grown men do not only have a bar of soap and a bottle of Head and Shoulders to bathe themselves with”). She borrows clothes. She makes breakfast.

She makes good breakfast.

Reason # 29: She’s good at everything she tries. Who does that?

It’s actually kind of frustrating to share a living space with Elle. Because the longer Emmett is around her, the more time they spend in the same room doing their respective grading, the more conversations she drags out of him, the more cleanly scented products that seem to find their way into his bathroom, the more he realizes she’s kind of… nice. And caring. And if she does control the weather she’s probably only doing it better the world of the people around her.

Reason # 30 Elle Woods is the actual worst: She’s not the worst at all and Emmett’s going to have to admit (if only to himself) that he was, in at least a few different ways, wrong about her.

Before too long--maybe three or four days into what was going to be a one night stay--Emmett and Elle are actually sharing stories about themselves and laughing together in more than a ‘I can’t tolerate you but we’re colleagues so I’ll pretend that you’re super funny’ kind of way.

And then they start eating lunch together. Sharing a living space and being a friend to the environment (“I’ll have you know that one of my first acts when I was put in charge of my Delta Nu chapter was to get our house put on solar power. We have a responsibility to care for our planet, Emmett.”) means that they start commuting so he gets his parking space back, sort of.

“I’m glad to see you and Ms. Woods are finally working past your differences.” The headmaster says one day as he and Emmett walk out of a staff meeting where Emmett and Elle had found themselves in agreement on every issue and teaming up on more than one occasion to argue their points. “The history department, and indeed the school will be a finer place for your friendship.”

Emmett’s not entirely sure that he and Elle are friends or if they’ve finally just realized that the things they were finding annoying about each other are a little more endearing when they got to know each other, but he does know that when the repairs on Elle’s house are finished and she officially has no more excuses to stick around at his place, the morning he wakes up and there’s not a blonde doing tae bo in his living room while bacon fries in the kitchen, the house feels like something is missing.

The school year continues and at a certain point Emmett knows for certain that he and Elle are definitely friends. He would never in a million years let someone who wasn’t his friend go through his wardrobe and replace all the clothes that make him look like a quote-unquote ‘scruffy fuddy-duddy’(“Emmett, you’re a history teacher at a prep school in his thirties, the kids will take you more seriously if you don’t dress like an ivy league philosophy professor from 1973”).

This doesn’t mean he stops hating her--reason # 33: she signs every text message with a heart emoji and he’s pretty sure she actually means it--but his feelings of hate stop being that jaw-clenching, boiling sensation in his gut and start feeling a lot more… fluttery. Like someone shakes up a warm bottle of champagne and lets it explode all over him, leaving him comfortable and tingly and on edge all at the same time.

That’s what hating Elle Woods feels like now that they’re friends.

It’s a feeling that seems to grow every time she throws her head back in laughter or settles down to do some serious work, throwing on reading glasses and chewing on the end of a pen cap.

He’s not sure that he likes being friends with Elle--his inner grump doesn’t know what to do with himself now that everything she does is kind of endearing rather than being the most annoying thing on the planet--but they keep getting closer regardless. Elle has a way of doing that. Of knowing the right things to say and being adorable and actually being really helpful when he needs it. They’re constantly spending time together and as much as he hates her, he doesn’t really hate it at all.

Maybe that’s why it stings so much when Elle announces that she’ll be spending her summer break back in her home of Malibu. Because he’s gotten used to spending time with her and they’ve built a good working relationship and he had just assumed that she’d be working with him at the school’s summer program too. It’s definitely not because he’s going to miss her.

Except the more he thinks about it, the closer they get to the end of the year and the more she talks about her trip, the more Emmett starts to consider that it might be.

Reason #34: He’s going to miss her.

Well, that’s just not going to work.

Emmett’s used to having people in his life not stick around so this shouldn’t be a big deal, particularly since she’ll come back in the fall but for some reason it feels like it is. Only he can’t say anything because that definitely won’t work so he can do nothing but go back to clenching his jaw and biting his tongue whenever he’s around her. He just needs to put a little distance back between them; after all you can’t miss someone that you’re not close with so if he stops sharing with her, stops finding her jokes so funny, stops wanting to be her friend...a summer without her won’t be so bad.

“Would you stop being weird?”

Of course...Elle notices and she’s not one to keep quiet about what she notices and when they’re chaperoning prom a couple of weeks before graduation she gives him an exasperated look while they count the King and Queen Ballots.

“What?”

“Stop being so weird.” She repeats abandoning her work. “It’s been a couple of weeks and I can’t think of a single thing that I’ve done to bug you lately, and we only have a couple weeks left before I leave for the summer, so either tell me what I did so I can apologize and we can go back to the way things were or...stop acting like a butthead!”

“A butthead?” Emmett sputters over the insult, unable to believe that it’s what Elle landed on. Not even his students use such...silly benign put-downs. He’s oddly offended that she didn’t pick something better. “You think I’m a butthead?”

“I think you’ve got a lot of butthead tendencies.” She huffs. “Your stubbornness and inability to say what you’re actually thinking being two of them.”

“How do you know I don’t say what I’m thinking?”

“Because if you did, you’d tell me why you’re mad at me.”

“I’m not mad at you Elle, I’m gonna miss you!”

Oh.

Oh, she’s good. She’s really good.

Emmett doesn’t even realize what he’s said until a second or two afterwards when Elle is staring at him with her mouth hanging open.

“You’re gonna miss me?”

Angry with himself for letting the feelings he’s been trying to bury out so easily, and more than a little embarrassed because this is not the sort of thing he does or the kind of conversation he has ever but if he refers back to reason #25...it’s somehow impossible to not give in to her, Emmett feels his cheeks heat up and looks to the side at the start of his answer. “Of course I’m going to miss you. It’s actually infuriating how much I’m going to miss you. Everything you do is annoying and yet somehow adorable at the same time and it’s not fair because we were not friends and we were never going to be but you wormed your way into my life anyways and now it’s impossible to think about what my summer’s going to be like without you force-feeding me quinoa salads and buying me ties that cost more than my car payment because you think they’ll bring out my eyes and not getting to see you crinkle your nose when you get frustrated because I’m fighting you on all of that and--,”

Elle leans across the table, cupping his face in her hands. She presses her lips to his, smiling as she pulls away. “I’m gonna miss you too.”

Oh.

Reason # 35 Emmett Forrest hates Elle Woods: He doesn’t hate her at all.

#legally blonde #fanfiction #elle woods #emmett forrest #this got away from me #a ficlet can be 2500 or so words right?#anyway #this is more based on the characterization in the musical than in the movie #because I like that emmett so much better #punintended #writing games #ficlet #?

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blackkpopdrabbles · 7 years

Text

Hunted 8

Move in Day

They moved in a week later. They did not have to worry about putting utilities in their name because it was already included in their rent. Cable and internet were also paid through the rent. This made the apartment even more worth it because it allowed them to be off the grid. All they really need to do was to buy some furniture to furnish the house. They scoured local thrift stores and furniture stores to look for cheap but sturdy furniture. They felt like the furniture did not need to be new. The best furniture was furniture that had character and if it was tarnished it would be that hard to make it look better. In fact redoing and repurposing furniture was something that Aliya always wanted to do. She had spent many quiet Sunday morning watching “Flea Market Flip” with Jongin. She always enjoyed those mornings because it was one of the few times it was just her and Jongin. On Sundays, the boys never got up before 10 o’clock. Also no matter what time, Jongin got in from his work the night before, he would wake up at 8 and spend the two hours watching TV with her. During those two hours, they would discuss their hopes and dreams for the future. One of those dreams was to own a repurposed furniture shop that Jongin said that he help her open. They had the store all planned out. There would be a kids area that would be sectioned off. On one side of the kids' area, there would be the furniture that was for sale. In another part of the kids' area, there would be activity section with coloring books and play things. Those play things would be on display furniture so the parents could have an idea on how durable the store's products was. In the back of the shop would be Aliya’s workshop. They would do all the furniture in that area. Jongin had even planned for a space in their office just for the boys to hang out while they were working the shop. In Aliya’s mind, those plans seemed so far away like the act of planning the shop itself was a dream. For now, all she could start with was small mix and matched furniture that she and Brione got for their apartment.

Brione and Aiya had also gotten jobs working at the cafe/bakery below their apartment. The hours were sculpted perfectly so that when school started in the fall they would not have any issues with the boys. Mrs. Choi had also agreed to watch the boys while they were at work. Mrs. Choi enjoyed watching the boys. They were a little rambunctious but it made her feel young. It had also been a long time since children had been and her home. The last children that she watched had been her now grown grandchildren and she had given up on the hopes that anyone of her grandchildren was going to make her a great-grandmother. She spoiled the boys rotten, by always making sure they had sweets when they came over and taking care of their every need.

Their new jobs were simple, but Brion and Aliya loved them. Brion worked in the front of the house as a barista in training. She spent many hours learning how to make the in-house coffee and specialty drinks. Their drink menu was massive and even offered smoothies and bubble tea. She had to memorize all the different combinations of ingredients to make each and every drink. Liyah, on the other hand, worked in the back making baked goods and filling out orders. It was the first time she had worked in the restaurant business since her boys were born. The last job she had was working as a secretary at a medium sized law firm in downtown Seattle. The kitchen was a welcome change from answering the phones and setting up meetings. But, spending most of the day her feet was something she would have to get used to.

The time at the cafe went by quickly and smoothly. Nothing out of the ordinary every really happened at the cafe. They worked the day shift from 8 am to 4 pm Mondays through Fridays. That meant that most of the people that came during their shift were stay at home moms and their families, workers from the surrounding areas, and occasionally med students and doctors from the local hospital. At night, the cafe was almost always bustling with college students from the three universities in the area. Even though Brione never encountered a hostile or even an annoying customer, Jonghyun encountered many. Jonghyun was one of Ms. Choi’s grandson and ran the cafe. His work at the cafe often included the catering side and right now training the new employees. People would harass Jonghyun and if they were not loud enough or if the order was wrong, they would speak down to him like he could not speak English. The one customer that made him the most uncomfortable was a regular during the collegiate school year. She was an East Asian Studies major and was minoring in the Korean language. Every day she would order the same food and sit at the table near the counter. She would never stay in her chair for long. Sh had often tried to use Jonghyun as a free Korean tutor. She an intermediate student but it did not seem that she had taken any classes. Her Korean was almost intelligible and on top of that, she would throw random words into her English sentences. She often tried to act like a baby, whined often, and did something that often straddled the line between cute and straight out creepy. At first, he humored her and helped her when she asked questions but, she started to some more frequently and it started to disturb his work. The student did not understand that the world did not stop and revolve around her. She expected that every moment that she was in the cafe, that she should have his undivided attention. But unfortunately for her, the world did not revolve around her, and when he had to help other customers she would stay glued to the counter trying to get his attention. He grew to despise the time she spent in the cafe which was often signaled by high pitched oppas. If it was not for her spending $200 a week in the cafe, he would have probably lost his temper with her a long time ago. Starting last year, he had kept a calendar that counted down to the end of each semester and ultimately the graduation date.

Jonghyun was not the only grandson who worked at a property his grandmother owned. Key or Kibum worked in the in-house bakery and was in charge of all the pastries, cakes, and fresh breads the cafe had to offer. His time was divided between the bake goods he made for the cafe and the lucrative wedding cake business he had on the side. Minho worked in the law office down the street and was a big time attorney. He was in charge of all the legal matters for the family and had a few big businesses as clientele. Mrs. Chois’s youngest grandson, Taemin, was the only grandson who did not work directly for his grandmother. He was a detective and recently had gotten a promotion. His family did not actually know what his job entailed. He was the quietest of all of the grandsons and split his time between his home and his many business trips. Three of the grandsons lived in one apartment above the cafe. Minho and Taemin shared a house on the block behind the bakery. It was a tradition in their family to have Sunday dinners at their grandmother’s apartment. Mrs. Choi with the help of Jonghyun would make lavish traditional Korean meals. The invitation was soon extended to Brione, Aliya, and the boys. Those Sunday night dinners were the highlight of the week. For the girls, it made them feel like they were apart of a family, something they had not felt in a long time. Dinner was =often filled with Onew’s lame jokes and the bickering of Key and Minho. After dinner, Jonghyun would teach the boys to play the piano while the others played whatever game suited them that night. All of them had fallen into a routine that natural to them, it was almost like they were always a family and that they were always supposed to be together.

#black kpop fans #black kpop fan scenarios #exo fanfic #kai fanfic #kpop fanfic #ambw kpop scenario #SHINee FanFic #ambw fanfic

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sceawere · 7 years

Text

an post | alfie solomons

for anons who wanted worker!reader, bigsister!reader, and domestic!alfie

i hope i did you proud

“It’s perfect for you, I promise”

“I don’t know, Alice, I have the girls to think about”

“I know, but think about it. If you’re going to live in gang territory, you can pick a trench and have people to back you up or you can sit in no man’s land and hope the shit misses you on the way past”

“That’s very romantic, I’ll tell Ollie you said that”

“Oh piss off, I got with Ollie before I knew all his shit. You have that advantage – you’d know what you’re walking into”

“When I get with Ollie?” you teased back at her, trying to avoid the serious part of this conversation. You’d had enough of serious the last few weeks.

She lifted her eyebrow at you and tilted her head.

“You need a job, I have a job for you”

“As a gangster’s personal secretary, yeah it’s a dream career”

“I don’t know, there are benefits”

“Such as…?”

“He’s a dish, if I’m being honest”

“Alice!”

“I’m just saying, if I’d seen him first, maybe…”

“I’m definitely telling Ollie you said you wanted to fuck his boss, you know that right? That poor puppy dog of a boy, you’re gonna tear him apart one day”

“You have no idea”

“Oh, Jesus, Alice, stop there”

“No, you wanna know”

“I don’t, I do not”

“He does this thing…”

“Who does?”

“Sarah, out!”

Alice broke down laughing, dropping the box she was ‘helping’ to unpack (you’d seen her open the lid and do little else) and walked over to grab your little sister into a big hug.

“Oh, little Star, how are you?”

Sarah gave her a smile back and played with her freshly curled hair.

“I’m good, your hair is nice”

“Oh, thank you! You look as scuffed as ever” She picked up your sisters hands, running the pads of her fingers over the bruised knuckles there.

“A girl at school is teaching me to fight”

“Good skill to have”

“That’s what I said”

Alice turned to you with a smile, pulling Sarah to her side.

“Star, tell your sister to trust me”

“What are you doing now?”

“I am seeking her gainful employment”

“She’s lying to you, Star”

Ellie, the middle girl came in with the baby Martha on her hip, crying and passing her to you.

“Oh baby, come here, what happened?”

You shushed at her, rocking her little body against you in the small room.

“I think she wants to go home”

“Well, this is home now, sweetheart”

Ellie gave you a look and went over to cuddle with Sarah and Alice. Alice had been your friend since school and stood by you through the hell of the last few years. First your brother had died in the war, then your father passed a year ago. You’d managed off his2 war pension and their savings for that time but when you lost your job at the offices it all went to hell very quickly and you hadn’t been able to stay in the house you’d all grown up in. You were the oldest, now that your brother was gone, and double Sarah’s age. Everyone just assumed you were a poor widow with her children, rather than an orphan and her sisters.

You’d manage to scrape together enough for the first month’s rent on a flat big enough, just about, for the 4 of you, and enough money to keep you fed in that time too. But you needed to start working again. And Alice had come over with a promise to help you get situated and also of an exciting new opportunity her boyfriend had told her about.

“Think about it, please” she whispered to you as you hovered in the hallway outside the flat, and you’d hugged her and given her a promise to not discount it immediately.

15 applications later and nearing closer to the end of the month with every day, you found yourself trying not to slip down stone steps into the basement of a…bakery. You’d known for years that your friend’s boyfriend wasn’t on the up and up but you’d never actually been this close to the reality of it. You’d always had plausible deniability, except that time early on when Alice had climbed up your front step with a bottle of rum under each arm screaming ‘delivery from the kind bakers at the Aerated Bread Company!’.

Men were rolling barrels around and giving you side glances as you tried your best to keep your head high and marched forward towards the office at the end of the way. Ollie spotted you and walked over, hugging your side and guiding you over.

“He’s a puppy underneath, I promise”

“Oh, well that bodes well”

“Just…be you”

“What in the good Lord’s name does that even mean, Ollie?”

He gave you a wink as he opened the door and showed you in.

“Right, another one?”

“Last one, boss, I promise”

“Last one. Name?”

You stuttered for a moment, having been looking around the room while the two men talked and having to quickly whip you head back around to reply.

“Why is he so sure you’re right for this?”

“I’m his girlfriend’s best friend, he knows me pretty well”

“You’re his-wait what?”

He looked up at you for the first time and scowled at you for a moment, then relaxed his face, then scowled again.

Fuck, Alice was right, he’s hot.

“Ollie, you bringing me girlfriend’s friends now?”

“She’s good, boss, she worked at that factory up town, the government one”

He hummed, turning back to you and staring you down. You assumed he was trying to intimidate you, and it was working a little but probably not as much as he wished.

“You got a piece of paper for me or something?”

He lifted his hand to wave you over, holding it out for you to put your references in, and he looked you over again before he studied it.

“Why ain’t you working for the big government factory up town anymore?”

“I punched my boss”

He left his glasses half perched on his nose to look up at you and you saw Ollie smile out the corner of your eye. You pulled the corners of your lips up – a ‘yeah, it happened’ grimace.

“You punched your boss?”

“And…his boss as well actually. I think he was a minister for something?”

He dropped the glasses and flopped back in the chair, smiling wide.

“Why the fuck did you do that, love?”

“Cos I found out he was putting hands on the girls on the floor”

“What, the minister?”

“No, my boss. He knew they couldn’t stand up to him without risking their job, the prick”

“What did the minister do then?”

“He didn’t stand up to him, either”

“So you did?”

You nodded to him, suddenly feeling very self-conscious under his gaze. He threw the paper back onto the desk and it floated over to you.

“Yeah, she’ll do”

You settled in surprisingly quick to the job of personal secretary to a gangster boss. Most of the business he had you handle was the legitimate stuff, or at least stuff that appeared that way. As time went on, he trusted you more, and lowered you gently into the riskier stuff.

The pay was good, nearly double your last wage, and you guessed it was a form of combat pay. That and the boon of the private sector, you joked to Alice. She picked the girls up from school for you when you had to work late and you formed a steady rhythm to your life, despite the erratic environment.

And you were good at your job. Alfie had parked a desk outside his office for you, next to Ollie’s space, and you spent the days flitting in and out from the floor to the office. The men treated you with respect and brought you lunch when you couldn’t find time. Some of their kids went to school with your sisters and you ended up forming an odd little community here, in the shadows of the basement of the Aerated Bread Company.

“ABC? Honestly?” You’d quirked an eyebrow at Alfie when he leant out his office window and handed you your new business cards.

“We came up with it when we young and drunk, din’t we? You try founding a bloody empire” he’d muttered as he backed his way through and slammed the glass shut again.

You smiled to yourself, staring at the card and biting your lip.

“Chief Secretary for the Aerated Bread Company”

The break came when you were trying to wrangle the girls into bed one night, your patience draining faster that was little energy was left over from work. You had a very giggly toddler strewn over one shoulder when there was an insistent knock on the front door. The sound made you start, and the girls laughter faded away as the rhythm beat more frantically only a moment later.

“Sarah, get everyone under the big bed, go on”

You helped the older girl round the smaller ones up and cast an eye back to check they were safely tucked under the frame before you checked the peep hole.

“Holy fucking shit”

You sputtered with the locks, hands uncertain, and wrenched the door open.

“Ollie, what the fuck?”

He didn’t speak, just charged into the close hallway, half dragging Alfie with him. He had his arm wrapped over his shoulder, Ollie supporting most of his weight, and there was a fall of blood sneaking down his shirt from the contact.

“Lock the door”

You didn’t even check the hallway, afraid someone might be right behind them, and secured the locks again. He was slowly dropping Alfie onto the sofa, groaning with the pain, flopping about like a rag doll.

“Ollie, what the fuck is happening?”

“I need to patch him up, this was the closest place”

He was furiously working, pulling off Alfie’s jacket and waistcoat, bundling the latter up to use as a compress, already too soaked with blood to be worth trying to save.

“He needs a doctor – you need to call a proper doctor”

“I can’t”

“Oh, like you don’t have a doctor on the payroll”

“We do but…they shot him too. Looks like we’re hiring”

“Oh for fuck’s sake”

You dragged your hands up and over your face, blocking out your eyes for a second to think.

“Alright, move”

You threw yourself down in front of Alfie, barging Ollie out of the way and taking over the pressure on the wound.

“Go put some water on a boil, there’s a big pot under the sink, you need to fill it right up”

He nodded and jumped up, stuttering in mid-air.

“Uh, where-“

“That room there”, you nodded in the direction of the kitchen.

You lifted the makeshift compress slightly, rolling back the edge to see the damage and saw a slice across his abdomen through the tear in his shirt. The bullet had ripped across his front and side and that’s what was causing it to bleed so badly, rather than being a deep wound.

“Ollie, there’s clean cloths in the blue drawer – bring them all for me please”

He ran back in a moment later, cloth in hand, and dumped them on the sofa next to Alfie. He went back to check on the water and left you alone with Alfie again. You were suddenly aware of the fact that you were sat only in your vest and knickers and thanked your stars you’d worn your best pair to cheer yourself up.

“What d’ya think doc?”

Alfie’s voice was weaker than you’d ever heard it, tired and gruff as usual, but fainter. You jumped, not even realising he’d been awake the whole time, thinking he’d long since passed out. When his eyes set against yours they were bright as ever but there was pain behind them.

“It’s not as bad as the bleeding looks – it’s shallow so it’s bleeding more, like grazing your knee, you know? It takes ages to stop when you rip the surface”

“Well that’s good”

“No, not really. There’s no bullet to dig out which is a saving grace but if I can’t get you clotting soon you’re fucked”

“Oh, lovely, thanks darlin’”

You set about folding up a new cloth with one hand, the other keeping the pressure on, then performing a quick switch, rolling the new into the space of the old as quick as possible.

“Sorry, did you want me to lie? Thought you paid me to be honest”

“Your bedside manner is fucking atrocious, love”

“Yeah well it’s not my manners that are going to keep you alive so stuff it”

He groaned as you put another bout of pressure on the wound and you shushed quietly to him, doing your best to soothe him but not achieving much.

“I only have aspirin and I can’t give you that”

“The fuck not?”

“It thins your blood out, what you lose in pain you’ll also lose in blood, and you can’t risk that now”

“Fucking hell”

He dropped his head back against the headrest and took deep, ragged breaths.

“Tell me you have booze at least”

“I do actually but you can’t have any”

“Why not?”

“Because it thins you-“

“Thins my blood, yeah, lovely”

“Ollie! Whisky bottle, top shelf!”

He rolled his head back up to scowl at you and the pale tint to his skin sent a rush of worry through you.

“It’s for cleaning you up, nice and sterile”

You shrugged back at him, taking the bottle from Ollie, uncorking it with your teeth, and taking a deep swig.

“Uh- that’s-“

“Shut up, both of you, I needed that”

You dropped the bottle to the floor by your knee and pushed yourself up to hover over Alfie.

“Right, Ollie, I need his shirt off”

“Steady on darlin’, I’d love to but I’m not in the best of health and Ollie here, he’s only a boy ain’t he?”

You laughed despite yourself, breathy with a head shake, while Ollie set to work giving you better access. You placed a splayed hand against his chest to support him as he leaned forward and found yourself a little closer than comfortable. He’s bleeding out in front of you, can you calm it down? When his head fell to your shoulder, nuzzling into the skin there with the pain, you shushed into his ear and nuzzled back, the only relief you could give to him.

“Lean back, let me get you fixed up”

Ollie retrieved the boiling pot and after a moment of stuttering about, kicked the rug over to protect the floor from the heat.

Rolling back the cloth slightly, you noticed the bleeding was a lot slower now, the pressure doing its work, his body responding. You dropped the sodden cloth to the floor next to the pot and collected a new one, draping it over the edge to soak, before splashing your hands with the whisky to clean them off. You set to wiping at the wound with the cloth, drawing away the blood to better assess the trouble.

“Oh, that’s even better than I thought, might not even scar”

You noticed a few little scars dotted around the plain of his chest, the inside of his arms. You wondered how many times he’d been dragged into the closest room and stuck back together.

“Here, take-over”

“Where are you going?”

“I need to get some stuff to stitch him up with, just keep cleaning the blood off”

You moved out of the room and headed towards the bedroom, checking yourself for blood before entering. You dropped to the floor and reached for the girls.

“Come on, it’s ok”

They crawled out to you and you picked the little one up and held her close while the others sat on the bed.

“I heard you swear”

“Yeah, Sarah, I’m sorry, don’t you repeat that”

“Are they still here? Is it bad men?”

You stuttered over the answer in your head while you dug out your sewing kit. The obvious answer was yes.

“They’re not going to hurt us, sweetie. They’re…my friends. You remember Alice’s Ollie? They just need some help”

It wasn’t a lie and it avoided speaking to their morality. The perfect answer.

“Just stay in here with each other, alright? Try to get some sleep”

You passed Martha over and made sure to shut the door tight behind you, not wanting your sisters to stumble out and see a bleeding gangster strewn about their living room.

“Who were you talking to?”

Alfie looked on guard, trying to work out if there was someone else in the flat that could pose a threat.

“Just my sisters. They’re 10, 7, and 4, so maybe don’t shoot them”

He settled at your sarcastic tone and let out a gruff laugh, then winced. You set the box on the table and pulled out a smaller container from inside.

“I have some stuff left over from when my brother used to box, proper stuff, he won’t get an infection or nothing”

“You have a brother?”

“Had”

You concentrated on sterilising the needle and threading it up, avoiding the conversation entirely.

“You can have a tiny bit of whisky, now”

You passed him the bottle over, pulling it back from his grasp at the last second.

“Notice I said ‘a tiny bit’ and not ‘one drink’ so don’t go pulling any shit like downing it in one go and telling me it doesn’t break the rule, yeah?”

He raised an eyebrow at you, grabbing at the bottle again.

He was a good patient overall, barely wincing while you stitched him up. You dumped everything in the hot pot and told Ollie to dump it all in the kitchen, you’d sort it in the morning.

“You need to sleep here tonight. Can’t have you stumbling around half bled, ripping out your stitches”

You braced yourself for an argument but Alfie just slumped down onto his good side, too out of it to bother. Ollie fell back into a chair next to him and nodded at you.

“Thanks”

“Yeah, sure thing. I’ll grab you some blankets and that”

When you got back into the bedroom the girls were huddled under the covers, whispering to each other and you quickly swapped out your clothes in the shadows so they wouldn’t see the flecks of blood that had ended up making their way to you. Crawling in, you made sure to lie between them and the door, between them and the wounded gangster sleeping on your couch. You sent a prayer up for nothing in particular, your brain so frazzled and fatigued. You just wanted peace for the night.

“-and she did. So I said I might want to be a nurse someday, too”

“You’d be good at it”

Alfie was in the strange space between sleep and consciousness and he swore the bullet had taken his sense because he heard Ollie chatting with a little girl. A cool cloth was draped across his head and someone was poking at his wrist.

“Fuck’s happening?”

He tried to drag himself up on the sofa but a weight pushed him back down and when he opened his eyes they met with the wide ones of a small girl.

“Don’t let my sister hear you swear. And don’t get up, you’ll die”

“He won’t die, Sarah”

“He’ll die if I say he will, Ollie. I’m his nurse”

Alfie looked towards Ollie with an expression that repeated his question without the need for words.

“She had to run out for some supplies and stuff, this is her little sister”

“I’m Sarah. I’m your nurse”

Alfie pulled the cloth from his forehead and chucked it at Ollie with his good arm, turning to shake Sarah’s hand.

“Lovely to meet ya, darlin’”

Sarah preened a little at that and her eyes lit up.

“Oh, hello”

“Could you go get me some water please, sweet, only I feel like I’ve swallowed that cloth right there, the one I just threw at Ollie”

She giggled to herself and ran off out of his sight and he turned to Ollie with fire in his eyes.

“You let her go off alone?”

“I sent guys with her, I didn’t think it was a good idea to leave you here with nothing but children to watch out for you”

“You should have left the guys here and gone for her”

“She wouldn’t let me, I don’t think she trusted strangers around the girls”

“But, she left the kids here with us?”

“Yeah, she struggled with that one. She looks after them by herself Alfie. Three of them. Alice does what she can but…”

Sarah was back with the water now, hovering in the doorway with a glass in hand.

“Are you done whispering or should I come back?”

Alfie waved a hand and lay back.

“Where’s the rest of ya?”

“Ellie has homework and Martha is napping”, she dropped the glass into his hand and set him with strong eyes, “which is what you need to do once you’ve drank that”

“Bloody hell, you my nurse or my jailor?”

“Oi!”

“Yeah, you’re sisters” he handed her the glass back and scowled at her sudden beaming smile, turning his back to stare at the couch and try to sleep once more. His side ached and he felt weaker than he wanted to admit. He drifted back in and out, listening to them shuffling about the house, chattering away. He woke up at one point to Ollie explaining a sum to one of them and wondered how exactly he’d found himself here. He was a boss, he ran an empire. And here he was, camped out on a sofa, in his secretary’s flat, listening to his right hand man explain numbers to children.

They ended up sleeping on your sofa for a few more days, until Alfie was strong enough and calm enough that you trusted him not to do something stupid and end up needing serious care.

You fell into an odd rhythm together, though you had to set some rules after the first day when you’d woke up to an empty bed and found the girls stood around the sleeping men, daring each other to poke one of them awake.

Sarah had taken to acting as Alfie’s full time nurse, bringing him glasses of water and fresh bandages, watching intently as you swapped them out and taught her how to spot the signs of infection. He was doing well but the blood loss had taken its toll and he ended up sleeping a lot.

You got back from ferrying the girls to school one day to find the flat empty, nothing but the bleached cloths drying on the radiator to prove they were ever there.

Alfie didn’t come back to the bakery for another week so you and Ollie ended up playing defence, trying to hold down the fort and bat away the rumours that Alfie was dead. People were nervous. As much chaos as Alfie caused, he kept everything running smoothly too, sometimes the only thing controlling very sensitive deals and keeping dangerous people in line. His absence was noted. By people who weren’t nervous too, by people who were excited. Some low level sleaze-ball had the gall to turn up at the bakery and practically start measuring for drapes. He’d leered at you and Ollie had gone for him before you could when he’d slapped your arse on the way out.

You spotted the headline the next day while you jogged past the newsagent’s in the rain. It made you turn back and stand in the open, staring, until you felt it start to soak through your coat.

“Gangster found on steps of his home, throat slit, hand missing”

You threw your coat over some old barrels to dry, though down here in the damp of the basement you doubted much would shift. You were so busy wringing your hair out you didn’t notice Alfie was sat at his desk until you were already in the office.

“Mornin’”

“Mr Solomons! Christ alive, what are you doing here?”

“I’m back, aren’t I?”

“Should you be?”

“Yeah, yeah, had a proper doctor take my stitches out, he said you did a good job. Anyway I hired ‘em so I won’t be bothering you or the girls anymore”

“Oh…alright”

“Yeah”

You stood staring at each other, neither really knowing what to say.

“I have the Dickinson papers to sort out, so…”

“I, uh, I moved your desk in here, I hope that’s alright”, he scratched at his beard, pointing to the desk at the back of the room, “well I had it moved because to be honest my fucking side still feels like someone tried to make mince out of it. Ollie moved it. But…saves me screaming for you half the time, don’t it?”

You nodded along, looking between him and the desk.

“Yeah, that’s fine with me”

“Right…papers”

“Yeah, yeah, papers”

You worked in silence together for a while, stealing glances. A question burned at the back of your mind but never quite made it to your lips, until he finished a phone call and you jumped on your chance.

“Did you kill that guy?”

“What, the one who shot me? Yeah he’s long gone, love”

He waved off with his free hand, still concentrating on the numbers he was tallying.

“No, the creep who tried to stage the takeover?”

“Oh him…”

“Yeah, only someone…there seemed to be a statement in there and I thought-“

“You don’t put your hands on ladies, do you? My mother made sure to teach me that bloody early, his should’ve too”

“Oh…well”

“Anyway, can’t have men coming in here sniffing round my grave before I’m already in it, sends a bad message”

“Thank you”

He hummed in his throat.

“Ollie said you helped sort things out while I was down, I appreciate that”

“Just doing my job, Mr Solomons”

He sent cars with you to pick the girls up from school that afternoon - ‘just in case anyone’s still sniffing around, yeah?’ – And half the street stared as you waited at the gates with two men in suits. The girls acted like princesses, waving to everyone as they passed, and you slapped their hands down with a giggle.

When you got home there was an envelope in your mail locker, blank except for a scrawl on the back flap.

“The doc said you did a good job”

Inside were a stacks of cash, crisp new notes, bundled together in tens.

“I can’t take this”

You threw the envelope onto his desk the next morning, crumpled from where you’d been playing with it so long, trying to work out what to do with it.

“Why not?”

“It’s…it’s nearly 6 months wages, Alfie, what the hell made you think I would?!”

“Well, it were either that, or I buy a new house for ya, so I thought…”

“What the fuck are you talking about?!”

You’d long since lost your reminder to be professional and started acting purely on impulse, the whole situation too messed up for you to pretend it was normal.

“You can’t stay in the flat, not after I was there”

“What-“

“There’s been people sniffing around. I put men on your street when I was there and they never left. People have been sniffing around, people they recognise. People who work for people I’m not friends with, and they think you’re mine now, don’t they? I was in there nearly a week, that’s suspicious. So you have to make yourself scarce with the girls”

You let the information stew in your for a few moments, dropping into the chair in front of his desk.

“They would have never got near the girls, I made sure of it”

“The new guy who lives under me, he’s…”

“One of mine, yeah”

“Fucking hell”

You bent over, head to knees, hands in hair.

“They would have never got near the girls”

His tone was soft and you lifted yourself up to look at him, wiping tears away from the edge of your eyes.

“I made sure of it”

He nodded at you and you nodded back. He pulled himself up from the chair and walked round to perch on the edge of the desk in front of you.

“Your dad’s gone, yeah?”

“Yeah, and my brother”

“What about your mum?”

“She…” you shook your head, “I don’t know where the hell she is. Haven’t in years”

“Right, just you and the girls then”

“Are we going to have to leave? London?”

“No, I don’t want you too far just in case, we’ll find you somewhere in my territory”

You looked up at him, looking down at you, and pleaded to him with your eyes.

“It’s just been me and them for a while and I…”

“I’ll keep you safe”

Neither of you said the next part out loud but you could tell by each other’s expressions what you were thinking.

It was me who put you in danger.

The girls felt like all their numbers had come at once as they shuffled into the new house. A whole house, to themselves. Not a room on a floor. No more of the long, dark corridors, and paper thin walls. They ran about, from room to room, Ellie screaming her way up the steps and off out of site.

Martha was perched on Alfie’s hip as he gave you both a personal tour of the place and at some point you broke down crying in the kitchen.

“No…no sweetheart, that’s. Right, that’s not productive, though is it so…” he huffed about as you sobbed into your hand, not sure what the hell to do with himself.

Sarah ran in holding hands with Ellie, smiling wildly until she saw you crying, moving over to you and throwing her arms around you.

“She’s just happy, Mr Solomons. This is big for us”

“Right, well. That’s lovely”

“Thank you, Alfie”

It was the first time you’d used only his first name and he shuffled Martha on his hip.

“Well, thanks for saving my life as well, I never said that” he pointed at Sarah “and you as well for what you did”

“You’re welcome, Mr Solomons”

“Well, you can call me Alfie too, while we’re here. It’s well into my territory so I can pop in and out, no bother”

“Oh, you can, can you?”

“Oh fine, I’ll piss off then, you buy a lady a house and-“

“Don’t swear in front of the kids!”

Martha laughed and he turned to scowl at her.

“Are you laughing at the swearing or me getting told off? Hmm?”

“Both”

“Both, right, getting it from all sides, fuc-“

“Oi!”

It was Ellie’s turn to scold him and everyone’s turn to laugh at his expression afterwards as he scratch his forehead and looked off through the window to the courtyard, muttering to himself.

“Why do I bother? House full of bloody women, you’re an idiot Alfie”

He stayed for tea that night, and came again the next, and eventually you ended up seeing more of him at home than you did at work. He was softer here, he wasn’t the boss – the girls were. It was his sanctuary and as the days passed and the seasons turned you felt the space around you change too. Smiles over dinner tables, fingers flitting together over paperwork, silences that stretched a little too long.

One night he’d had enough of playing coy teenagers and picked you up onto the desk, pouring out 6 months’ worth of swallowed kisses. You had his shirt halfway over his head when Ollie threw open the door and it was all broken.

There was a knock at the door that night and you wondered who it could be. Ollie and Alfie both had keys, Alice would just borrow yours or Ollie’s, and no-one else was supposed to know you lived here. You’d pulled out the gun Alfie’s had left in the drawer by the door and kept it to your side while you checked out the peep hole. Alfie was there, shuffling in the stoop, and you pulled the door open.

“What the fuck are you knocking for, you never knock?”

“I thought I-bloody hell, love, you gonna shoot me? If the kiss were that bad you could have just told me”

“What are you-“You put the gun back in the drawer and moved to let him inside “get in the house, Alfie”

“Do you want me in though?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Because today changed things a bit, didn’t it, and if I come in now, it’s not as your boss”

You messed with your hair a little, nervous hands, and leaned against the doorframe, keeping your eyes on the street, rather than on him.

“What would it be as?”

“Well…”He had his own nervous hands, scratching at his nose, at his beard, pushing his hat brim up and down “I was hoping we were gonna fuck, to be honest love, and I can say that because I’m not in the house see, and so I can swear how I like”

You broke down laughing, him smiling along with you.

“Never mind it’s my bloody house in the first place”

“Uh…our house”

“Oh, right, she’s moving me in already, bloody hell, we’re doing happy families now”

“I meant me and the girls, you twit”

“Yeah, you and the girls, right”

“Alfie…get in the house”

“In the house?”

You leaned forward, grabbing at the front of his shirt, and joining your lips, stepping back and pulling him with you in one motion.

“Our house” you mumbled against his lips as he kicked the door shut behind you.

#peaky blinders #imagine #peaky blinders imagine #alfie solomons #|writing

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