#the Safehouse Pg

[safehousegirlpg]

Elevate your lifestyle at a luxury PG in Gurgaon with The Safehouse PG. Relish in beautifully designed rooms, daily hygienic meals, and exceptional security. Our PG provides the ideal mix of comfort, style, and convenience. Are you ready to make your stay unforgettable? Find your new home with us today!

[sapchat]

IDK if this has been done but I went through the 3 reboots and did a timeline of events so you wouldn't have to!

Side notes: sometimes I use the first initial for who it is! also some of MW3 has timestamps. I also apologize for spelling. Also, lots of this shit happens over like 7-12 days April 6, 2019 Makarov bombs Verdansk Price, Ghost and Soap know each other at this point, have NOT met Gaz

Start of MW1 Oct 24 2019 'Al Qatal' moves gas Oct. 25 2019 Piccadilly Square Oct. 25 2019 Price meets Gaz Oct 26 19 Alex & Farah blow Barkov's bombs Same day destroy one of B's bases Oct. 27 19 Price and Gaz go to Picc Safe house Oct 28 19A&F go to Urzstan hospital for "The Wolf" Oct 28 19 P&G meet up w/ A&F for the Wolf Oct 29 19 Plan ambush for Butcher & Wolf - Hadir uses the gas, learn Hadir stole the gas Oct 29 19 PGAF Go to kill W, & get H Oct 29 19 PGAF kill the wolf, H is 2 Russia Oct 31 19 PGN go 2 Russia, Capture Kill Butcher (and traumatize a family) Nov 1 19 Hadir is handed over to Russia Nov 3 19 Take down Barkov's gas production plant & K Price meets Kate @ Tea shop makes TF 141 w/ Ghost, Soap, & Gaz END of MW1 - May 22, 2022 Soap goes side questing, turns green (idk I didn't watch the trailer (I did but I just know there's like green gas)) Start of MW2 July 15 22 Ghost Blows AlMazrah base (Honestly didn't get the point of us seeing this) Oct 28 22 GS Kill/Cap Mission for Hassan -> Find American Missiles not Hassan Oct 28 22 PG in Amsterdam for Missile info (Think they used it as an excuse to swim) Oct 29 22 Capture a cartel mem 4 info Oct 29 22 Alej. Go for cartel jumping border Oct 30 22 GSAlej go 4 Hassan safehouse They capture Hassan (picnic in the desert omg!) Oct 31 22 PG in Spain for Hassan info Kate gets caught Shepherd tries to abandon her Nov 1 22 PG meet with F to get Kate (they get her and get juicy gos on Shep) Nov 1 22 Soap goes into Casa de Sin Nombre Nov 2 22 Gulf oil rig, blows up by G&S (philip was here too) Nov 3 22 Soap & Ghost are fighting Shadow co Nov 3 22 SG go for Alej w/ Rodolfo. PG meet up Nov 3 22 141 goes for Graves Nov 4 22 Go 2 Chicago 4 Hassan & missile kill both END of MW2 - Kate (& tech. Gaz) learn about Makarov

Start of MW3 Nov 10 23 Makarov is broken out of jail 2am Nov 10 23 Farah is ambushed Konni got missiles around 6am Nov 10 23 141 go for Nuc Power Plant, P get gased 9am Makarov has been out for 6 hours Nov 11 23 They go for Missiles in Urzikistan Nov 11 23 Kate is going 4 intel on Makarov meets Yuri @ 3pm Nov 11 23 Makarov crashes plane, blames Farah and Alex go there 7:30-9:30pm meet with Kate and Nikolai in hanger Nov 12 8am Nov 12 23 they go for Milena 7pm Nov 13 23 they get Makarovs right hand man Nolan 11am Nov 14 23 They find Shepherd swimming at some point 9:30 Nov 16 23 SG stop Verdansk dam bombing Same time PG are at airsti Nov 21 23 141 go after Makarov Hacker Nov 21 23 They stop Makarov bomb, Soap gets killed. Price kills Shepherd after spreading Soap's ashes.

[blackbat05]

Unexpected Refuge

Detective! Joaquin x Bookstore Owner! Reader

Plot: Your book store is a place of refuge for those seeking knowledge, and shelter?

Genre: PG-13

A/N: K-drama giving me ideas once again. Also SDCC 2024 announcements?!!! Just blew my mind🤯 Excuse me for the poor execution, really wrote this on a whim. Also realized that Joaquin was a character I wrote before I went into a mental health crisis😂 How time flies~ (Tag update because I am a nuisance: @tom-whore-dleston)

The man pants heavily as he darts into the nearest alley. Shouts of anger and thinly veiled threats were getting closer. He’s proud of his stamina but he can’t keep running away from them. He needs to recover his energy.

But where?

A light shines up ahead and without a second thought, the man races towards what could be his potential temporary safehouse.

Bang!

There were no customers inside. Just plenty of books, and a wide-eyed woman blinking at the hurricane of a man that just stormed her store.

He hurriedly digs into the inside of his coat, showing his credentials.

“I’m so sorry, my name is Joaquin Torres. I’m a Detective and it may sound crazy to you but I’m being chased by a group of Gangsters and I could really use some shelter.” His plea comes out in rapid fire.

The poor woman takes a quick look at his badge and for a brief moment, Joaquin believed that she was going to toss him to the dogs.

“This way.” She leads him further into the store and opens a latch on the floor that leads to storage. “In here!” She commands with urgency.

As soon as Joaquin is safely tucked away, she locks the latch and places stacks of books on top of it. The door flies open and the same Gangsters rowdily burst into the store. Joaquin feels a tinge of guilt. He can’t imagine how her store must be tossed upside down thanks to him.

What he didn’t expect was the woman holding her ground and demanding the Gangsters to leave as they apparently ruined one of her newest books that was just bought in.

“And stay out!” She screeches before flipping the sign to inform customers that they were closed for the day.

“Um…” The woman reverts back into her bashful form that Joaquin was amazed at her acting skills. “They’re gone. You can come out now.” The door opens and she helps Joaquin out.

“Thank you.” Joaquin doesn’t know what else to add. His shoes are suddenly very interesting.

“I thought you were lying about being a cop.” Her voice is soft and gentle, causing the insides of his stomach to do a couple of flips. “I guess not. Those guys were scary.” The tension breaks and Joaquin grins at her becoming flustered at the attention he was giving her.

“You can stay here for a while more. To make sure.” She offers.

Joaquin really wanted to. But if he didn’t get back to the precinct. Sam will have his ass.

“I would love to but my partner’s waiting for me. I should probably go.”

She nods in understanding, “Of course. Be careful.” The two walk to the door and she pops her head out to make sure that the coast was clear. She smelled like berries and vanilla.

“Coast clear, officer.”

He liked the way it sounded on her lips. He didn’t want it to be the last time.

“Um… would you like to have dinner sometime?”

She raises her eyebrows in question and Joaquin hurriedly explains, “It’s not what you think! I just wanted to thank you for today. Really. You saved my life. Not many people do that. I usually do most of the saving- I guess I should shut up now.” He observed her amused expression as he continued to ramble.

“Sure. I know a great steak place.”

***

“Hey Barnes! Torres here has a date! Any tips?” Captain Sam Wilson, loud as ever whenever he felt like heckling his best friends follows Joaquin around like a wart on his foot.

“Leave the man alone, Sam.” James Barnes gives him the middle finger. Cool blues turning to Joaquin, “Just be yourself. Everything will be fine.”

Yeah, not exactly reassuring either.

The old fashioned way it is.

Joaquin finds himself standing in front of your bookstore with a bouquet of roses in his hand. He catches your eye and you give him a sign to give you a couple more minutes as you cleaned and locked up the place for the night.

“Thanks for waiting!” You rushed out in sunflower colored dress, looking radiant. He swears his heart thumped loudly against his chest. “I was surprised to get your call.”

“Well, I made a promise.” Joaquin leads the way to the Steak Restaurant where you had the absolute time of your life chatting with the boyish detective in front of you.

“Oh my god! That really happened?” You laughed, tears forming in your eyes. “It seems to be like a recurring thing going on in your team.”

The two of you headed down the street after that sumptuous meal. Your hair is tousled all over the place and you feel like you’ve just ate a whole cow, but Joaquin doesn’t take his attention of you for a second.

As he recounts another mishap during a undercover mission with Sam, a wolf whistle rings through the air and a figure, no- three of them appear from the dark alley, each looking more menacing then the other.

Joaquin’s mind kicks into overdrive instantly and feels you tense up against beside him. He instinctively moves forward to shield you from them. But they’re not blind.

“Look who we found… Detective Joaquin Torres and oh! I see you got company.” The middle one leers at you and Joaquin has the urge to punch it off his face. You give his hand a squeeze, as if to reassure him to do whatever he needs to do to get these suckers.

As quickly and quietly as possible, you take out your pepper spray and ball your fist to conceal it from them.

“How is it that you three assholes show up at the most inconvenient timing?” Joaquin distracts them.

They smirk at each other and Joaquin lunges forward to take the middle and left man onto the ground, leaving the last as easy prey for you to pepper spray him to your heart’s content.

What you didn’t expect was the man to wildly brandish a pocket knife, nicking you in the process as he swings it around.

“Ah!” You hissed loudly, clutching your left hand. Joaquin immediately turns his attention to you and swiftly takes the third man down with ease.

He dials in a number and police cars arrive in no time to take the men away. Joaquin jogs over to you while a uniformed policewoman helps to bandage your hand.

“Let me.” He smiles and thanks his colleague for the efforts and works on finishing the job in silence. You can’t read minds, but you could guess.

“Hey, it’s not your fault.” You reassure him.

Joaquin doesn’t say anything. He lets out a small exhale. So you try again.

“In fact, I feel pretty badass. Don’t you think?” You gently pry your hand away and show him your now bandaged hand proudly, grinning from ear to ear.

“Torres!”

The Captain jogs over, giving a pat on his back. “Came as quickly as I could. Everything alright?”

“Yeah. Thanks Sam.” Joaquin reassures. Sam nods, his gaze falling onto you.

“This is the girl you couldn’t stop talking about?”

“Ok, Sam. Stop.” Joaquin pleads, trying to push him as far away from you without much success.

“He was asking me how to impress you! Hey? I didn’t get your name though!” Sam yells over his shoulder, making you laugh at their antics.

“Y/N! I’ll see you around Sam!”

“Oooh I like her already, don’t fuck up Torres.”

“Leave!” Joaquin has to push Sam into the car and makes his way back to you, looking sheepish.

“Sorry, about that. Sam can’t seem to keep his mouth shut.”

A pocket of silence fills the air and you have to know.

“You were trying to impress me?”

Joaquin blinks. He momentarily opens his mouth and comically looks like a fish out of water. “Did it work?”

“Well…” You pretend to tap your chin carefully and Joaquin squirms in his shoes a little. “You impressed me the moment you came bursting into my store seeking for shelter.”

You laugh at Joaquin’s groan. “Not the answer that I was expecting.”

You give him a peck on the cheek and Joaquin momentarily freezes. “Is that a better answer?”

He holds his hand to the cheek that you just left a kiss on. For a moment, you’re scared that you’ve fried Joaquin’s internal circuits to respond coherently. But he breaks into a foolishly but adorably big smile.

Joaquin holds you by the waist and brings you closer to him and gives you a kiss of his own that leaves you spinning senseless.

“One hundred percent.”

[n-evermores]

#1 Baby, It's Cold Outside

【１２　Ｄａｙｓ　ｏｆ　Ａｌｄｅｎ　Ｐａｒｋｅｒ】

#2 , #3, #4, #5

Pairing: Alden Parker x f!reader (fluff)

Summary: One safehouse, no heater, and one bed. I suppose Parker will have to not only protect you from whoever is trying to kill you, but keep you warm too.

Word Count: 1300+

Warnings: None really, just Parker fighting for his life at the end

A/N: This could have been the smuttiest of smut I've ever written, but I decided to keep it PG. I know...a crime. Anyway, send me your favorite Christmas song or a prompt and I'll add it to my list. My anons are turned back on for those of you who are shy lol.

You wanted to say this was the worst Christmas yet, but honestly it was almost better than going visit your family for the holidays just to have them wonder why you’re not married yet. 

“No boyfriend?” Your old aunt would ask. 

“I wanna see a ring on that finger next Christmas.” Your uncle would say. 

It was frustrating how they assumed you should just be married, yet they didn’t realize must now demanding your job was. Not to mention, how dangerous. The predicament you were in right now was proof of that. 

“I’m sorry you have to spend Christmas like this.” Parker said as he poked at the fire. You watched him as he now warmed his hands in front of the flames, garnering all the warmth the wooden hearth had to offer. 

You sat in the small armed chair adjacent to the fireplace with a blanket wrapped around your shoulders and a hot cup of cocoa in your hands. “It’s you I feel bad for.  Weren’t you going to spend Christmas with your dad?”

Parker sighed, “Yeah, but he’ll spend it with my sister instead. He’ll be fine.” He noticed you weren’t convinced and he cracked a smile, “Besides, I get to spend Christmas with my favorite agent,” He paused, “Don’t tell the others.”

You chuckled and mimicked a zipping motion across your lips, “Not a word.” You glanced around and your smile faded, “But still. No heat in this cabin? Possible psycho trying to kill me. The stakes are high, unlike the temperature.” You closed the blanket tighter around you as your body shivered.

Parker noticed and swept over to the bed to grab another blanket and walked over to wrap it around you. He lowered himself in front of you to tighten the blanket around your chest and looked up at you through his lashes, “I’m not going to let this guy hurt you. I promise.”

Your eyes gentled on his face and you smiled, “I know. But I can handle myself. This safehouse in the middle of nowhere is unnecessary.”

“He tried to kill you twice. He sent multiple threats to you—“ 

You cut him off, “I know, I know.” you shook your head dismissively. 

“Just let us keep you safe. Let me.” He implored, hazel eyes pleading with you. You relented a sigh before giving a small nod of assent. “Good. Now you’re in my bed.” He said, motioning for you to get up.

“You’re not sleeping in this chair.” You countered, “I’ll take the chair. It's the least I can do.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous. You take the bed.”

“I don’t think your bones can handle sleeping in this chair all night. How are you going to keep me safe If you’re stiff like the tin man?”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “Are you calling me old?”

You felt your cheeks flush and you gave him a wry smile, “If the shoe fits.”

“For that,” He pointed to the door, “You can sleep outside in the snow.”

“But I’ll freeze to death.” You pointed out and Parker rolled his eyes. He grabbed you by the waist and picked you up easily, settling you near the fire without any difficulty. You felt your cheeks flush at the way he handled you. 

“Now. You take the bed. I’ll be fine. Besides, the chair is closer to the fire and someone needs to watch it all night.”

You wanted to protest but instead you tossed one of the blankets over to Parker and trudged over to the bed. You didn’t realize how exhausted you were until you felt the soft mattress beneath you. It was late and you could see the moonlight filtering through the window, dust particles dancing in the beam of light. The wind billowed against the old door, the hinges rattling almost hauntingly as snow fell in droves. 

You snuggled beneath the blankets and glanced over at Parker in the chair. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” He responded softly and you closed your eyes, your body shivering despite the pile of blankets over you. 

“I can hear your teeth chattering from over here.” He said suddenly.

“It’s so cold.” You curled into yourself, pulling the covers up to your chin. He didn’t exactly look warm either, and you could tell he was uncomfortable in the chair. “Parker, don’t take this the wrong way or anything. But maybe you should join me.”

He opened his eyes and looked at you through the fire lit room. “You mean sleep in the bed with you?”

“I won’t say a word to the others if you don’t. I’m cold, and you’re cold. Isn’t it like survival 101 or something?” 

“If we were to go by the book, we would have to remove our clothing and that is not going to happen.” 

You were thankful for the dark because you knew the embarrassment was evident on your face. “Just come sleep in the bed. We’d both be warmer. And less likely to get sick.”

He considered your idea. Finally, he stood and began walking over to you, “Alright, but we keep our clothes on.” He chuckled, making light of the situation as usual. 

You laughed before scooting over to give him room, “Deal.” you said as he crawled into the bed with you. He settled in and you turned to face him. It would be a lot more effective if you cuddled, but you didn’t want to embarrass him or make him uncomfortable. He watched you shivering next to him and he reached out to wrap his hands around yours, rubbing them together to keep you warm. 

“You’ll warm up soon.”

“Next time my life is being threatened, we’re picking a safehouse with a working heater.” 

“Hm, I  can agree to that.” Parker said and you instinctively shifted a little closer to him. You could tell he was just as cold, but a lot better at hiding it. 

“Parker, I’m really cold. I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep.” You admitted, your hands were the only part of you warming up, and that was because Parker was still rubbing your hands together in his.

You could see his brows crease and his eyes flit over your face as if he was trying to make a decision about something. “We don’t tell a soul about this. They’ll hold it over our heads endlessly.” He said as he pulled you closer. Your breath hitched as his hand gripped your waist and slid you across the small gap between you until you were flush against him. You instantly felt relief as the warmth radiating from him slowly began to warm your insides and you couldn’t help but tangle yourself around him. 

He groaned slightly, “Easy.” He chided lightly as you wrapped your leg around his hip in a position that was quite erotic in any other situation. 

“Sorry. I’m just so cold.” You apologized, but didn’t regret it one bit. The trembling began to subside, and you felt your insides grow hotter from the contact with his body.

“I know, me too.” He admitted before tightening his arms around you. You buried your face in his neck and clung to him like a koala bear. Honestly you couldn’t deny how good it felt. You couldn’t remember the last time someone held you this way. It was comforting knowing it was Parker of all people. You trusted him with your life, and you knew he would keep you safe in more ways than one.

You could feel his heart pounding inside his chest. It was beating a lot faster than what was considered normal. You lifted your head slightly to look at his face, trying to make sure nothing was amiss. His expression was impassive except for his shaky breathing which seemed to echo throughout the small space. 

“Parker, are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” He replied hoarsely. “Just go to sleep.” He demanded lightly and you buried your face in his chest and closed your eyes. 

“Merry Christmas.” You murmured into his grey hoodie.

He didn’t answer at first, but you felt his hand soothe over your hair and a very light kiss placed on top of your head, “Merry Christmas. Y/N.”  He whispered, drawing comforting circles into your back.

You were no longer cold. In fact, you felt hot from the almost tantalizing way your bodies touched. If you weren't being chased by a raging lunatic, this Christmas would most definitely be at the top of your list.

[morverenmaybewrites]

Hiya! First of all your blog’s interface is so cute i’m rolling on the floorrrrrrr

Second of all your writing is absolutely amazing, i’ve just finished reading “the pizza delivery girl’s survival guide to gotham city” and lemme tell u i can’t wait for the next chapter cause absolute gold-

I wanted to ask what your thoughts are on Jason and day-to-day life outside of costume. Like, dude HAS to go outside as himself at least every once in a while, out of pure necessity. How do you think he goes on about it?

Aw, thank you, I'm glad you like my blog interface and my fic. I think it depends on how much he's progressed in processing his trauma, to be honest!

I imagine when he first moved back in Gotham, he avoided going out as much as possible, for a multitude of reasons. First, because he was still reeling emotionally from Bruce enacting project Knightfall (aka faking his own death), he was recovering from the injuries he sustained during the events of Arkham Knight (and of course, the injuries he got from the Joker). Most importantly, he is adjusting to living in a city he once hated enough to want to destroy.

I feel like those first few weeks were painful for him. Every place is filled memories, and while not all of them are bad memories, they often feel too painful to revisit. He likely spent most of his time cooped up in a safehouse (which was established as something he makes no effort to make comfortable), only going out when he absolutely had to. Interacting with the city and its people as little as possible. While I don't think the Joker ever meant him to survive his torture, the amount of scars and physical injuries he bears means that a lot of his interactions bring a lot of (misplaced) guilt and shame. Did that shopkeep spend too long looking at his face, his scar? Maybe he'll pass by some hole-in-the-wall shop and remember that he and Dick and Barbara would cool down there after patrols. The ramen, he'll think, is surprisingly good. The owner is a smiling, heavyset man who insists that they never pay for their meals. Maybe he'll even take a single step toward the shop, only to remember that the scars on his hands make it so it's hard to hold cutlery without shaking. That there are days when it's physically painful to eat. And he'll shake his head and walk away.

But I think the more he interacts with PG in the story and the more he fixes his relationship with his family, the more he'll be able to interact with Gotham City. Maybe going to the grocery won't be treated like a military supply run. Maybe he'll look up from his carefully-curated list and realize a type of candy Barbara used to be obsessed with is back in stock now. Maybe he'll put it in his cart, and for the first time in a while, he doesn't have to think about what he did to her as the Arkham Knight. One day, he'll wake up before his alarm and remember that you used to talk about watching the sun rise over Gotham Bay. He'll take a long walk along the shoreline and watch the way the sky turns into soft shades of pink and orange, and he'll be surprised at the realization that there are still beautiful things in Gotham. Maybe your face will flash in his mind, and he'll think that perhaps he shouldn't be so surprised, after all. Maybe one day, after a long night of patrol, he'll pass by the ramen shop again and this time, he decides to stay. The only thing that has changed is the owner, who's gained weight and a few gray hairs, but his smile is still the same. He'll bring Jason's order without asking, and he'll insist that he doesn't have to pay for it. Eating doesn't hurt as much as he feared. In fact, some days, he can move his hands without feeling pain. This is one of the good days. Maybe on that good day, he'll be surprised to find that the ramen is still good. That he can think of the days he used to stay here with his family after patrols, exchanging combat tips and juicy bits of gossip. And this time, he's able to smile.

[incorrectbatfam]

Can we get some gooner hcs?

You guys are really into this, aren't you?

I guess since I created the characters this would technically be their canon? Even though they're in the Gotham universe? Idk let's call it Schrodinger's Canon

Anyway, some basic tidbits I came up with:

When they're not doing crime, they hang out together sitcom style—usually at Rob's apartment in Burnside. He regrets telling them where the spare key is

Milo lives with Rob and the twins full-time because the alternative is letting him wander the streets as a minor. Rob is a criminal anyway so might as well harbor a teenage runaway while he's at it. The verdict is still out on whether Milo's just a tenant or if there's a familial relationship slowly forming

Gene also doesn't have his own house. He stays with Rob about half the time and the other half he stays with Otto or occasionally his ex-wife. The latter two live in Crime Alley so Gene prefers Rob's place

Blaise got kicked out by his parents for being a stoner. He lives in Milo's car in the parking lot behind Rob's apartment when the car isn't being used for missions. Mac is similar—he has an apartment but spends so much time in his ice cream surveillance truck that he keeps spare clothes and a sleeping bag there

Kellin made a decent amount in their hired killer days and has a few safehouses around Gotham and Metropolis. Their assassin paranoia keeps them cycling between places

Kellin also occasionally sleeps over at Booker's dorm at Gotham U. He's been getting them caught up on pop culture since they fell a few years behind

Otto is the only one trusted to babysit Jackie and Gunner. He might look like a grinch on the outside but he enjoys being around children

Gene invents new prototypes and Otto tests them behind his repair shop before giving feedback. If it involves chemistry, Molly will also give her input

Booker is the chaotic academic who turns every wall he sees into a detective board and often gets the right solution with the wrong formula

Ironically, Milo doesn't like racing video games and Grand Theft Auto. He thinks they're not nearly as exciting as the real thing

Molly and Blaise have feelings for each other but every time they try to get together the universe finds some way to stop them—bad timing, other people, and once a family of hungry raccoons

Gene unofficially coined the comedic physics that follow them as "the Looney Toons force"

The only ones not affected are the twins. Milo isn't affected as much compared to the adults too

Molly is a massive Gotham City Sirens fangirl. Sometimes, to get new ideas for her chemicals, she'll walk through Ivy's latest crime scene to see if she can use anything plant-based

Kellin swears the most but they do it in Thai because this is a PG-13 program

[acradelius]

Good morning or Good evening ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ , can I request a Moira O'Deorain x Fem!Reader? , where the reader is kidnapped and violent things happen but she comes to our rescue so brave and concerned? thank yoooooouuuu ♡♡♡♡♡

"I'm Here Now, Coinín"

Fandom: Overwatch / Overwatch 2

Pairing: Moira O'Deorain x Gender Neutral! Reader

Rating: Lime [🟢] - (Equivalent to PG-13)

Warnings/Mention Ofs: Established Relationship, Female x Gender Neutral! Reader, They/Them Pronouns For Reader, "Lost Puppy/Blind Follower"! Reader If You Squint, Kidnapping, Mention of Interrogation, Mention of Pharmacological Interrogation/Torture/Methods, Forced Drug Usage, Mentions Of Broken Bones, Mention Of Deprivation Of Senses, Mentions Of Waterboarding, Caring/Gentle! Moira, Slight Praise.

Word Count: 951 Words

If you'd like to be tagged for all posts, certain fandom posts, or certain character posts then feel free to message me!

Whether it would be traversing throughout the nine layers of Hell itself or going on what is hoped to be a simplistic shopping trip to the local farmer’s market, they could be found directly by her side. It could be labeled as a suicide mission with a ninety-nine percent chance of not making it back alive or sitting next to each other on the couch in the laboratory office, they could still be found directly by her side. It was quite obvious that it didn't matter the location or the situation, (Y/N) could always be found directly by Moira’s side. Therefore, when Moira had left the disappointment that she called Overwatch, (Y/N) uprooted themselves and followed her into the hands of Talon without any questions or hesitations.

Yet, being a part of Talon’s inner council meant that there were some things that had to be discussed or dealt with where only Moira could attend, having to leave (Y/N) alone for the night to entertain themselves until Moira was to get back. “The less people that are aware of the situation, the less danger that you will be in, my Coinín,” Moira would respond when having been asked by (Y/N) why they couldn’t attend as well. Typically that would mean that they would have to entertain themselves within the comforts of one of the many safehouses that Talon occupied, but (Y/N) was feeling more adventurous, deciding to spend the night exploring the city. Unfortunately, the night didn’t end as (Y/N) would’ve expected, and ended up getting captured by some former Overwatch operators to be interrogated for information about Talon and their next plans of operation.

How long has it been since that night? How long has it been since (Y/N) had been snatched away from their late night stroll around the city to pass the time until Moira was to come back home? These Overwatch operators, some of them being former coworkers and former companions, refused to tell (Y/N). It didn’t help that the interrogation and the increasingly violent methods that they were using in an attempt to extract information was making it seem as if time was going by ever so slowly, but that was also a part of the methods as well. Each different person brought in to interrogate (Y/N) had various methods to use, some more dangerous and risky than the others, but they all knew that they couldn’t just outright kill (Y/N) as a final tactic.

Using pharmacological torture upon them and trying to pry information while (Y/N)’s in a drugged out haze, breaking bones varying from fingers and toes to an arm and a leg, trying to deprive them of their senses to where they could only focus on the darkness and the pain but forcing (Y/N) to stay awake to endure it all. Now they are attempting to force (Y/N) to submit and give them the information that they’re seeking through waterboarding, listening as the former member coughs out and gasps for air through the drenched cloth on their face. While there’s an expectation of that extremely cold water to attempt to suffocate them once again, that expectation never comes. There’s some slight confusion, a slight jolt from (Y/N) as there’s fingers frantically brushing across their skin, beginning to pull at the binds that hold them down to the chair and the items that were used to deprive (Y/N) of their senses.

It takes some moments for some stability to come to (Y/N) from being disoriented by the sudden rush of their senses coming back to them, grunting slightly while scrunching their eyes closed at the blinding light that surrounds them. There’s a voice, a voice that’s recognizable but between the blaring alarms, the undeniable sounds of fighting taking place within the background, it’s hard to make out what exactly is being said. “..M-Moira..?” Moia’s name slips past (Y/N)’s lips in a soft whisper while lifting their head in order to look at the person, and being confirmed that’s exactly who it was. “Don’t you worry, little Coinín. I’ll be taking you back home, making sure that you get the best treatment.” Typically being calm outwardly, it doesn’t take much for (Y/N) to know that internally Moira’s panicking, concerned about the amount of damage that’s been done, but she continues to hold her head up high and deal with the occasional enemy that crosses her path as she proceeds to carry (Y/N) to the dropship for evacuation.

“..Are you absolutely sure that you’re not in need of anything to eat or drink? Maybe even just a couple more pain killers to dull the pain some more?” Moira questions her injured partner within her arms once they make it into the dropship and settle into some seats. Despite that there’s the fabrication of giving life and taking life at Moira’s hands, their gentle as they caress (Y/N)’s cheeks, gentle brushing across their skin to access damages, Moira healing what she can of (Y/N)’s body at that moment. There’s a smile upon (Y/N)’s lips as they shake their head in response to Moira’s question, struggling to keep their eyes open due to the physical and mental exhaustion they were dealing with. “You’re doing well, you know that? Doing so well, I’m so proud of you for holding out as long as you did despite what they’ve done to you.” There’s a smile that graces Moira’s lips, a rare occurrence, before she leans down and places a gentle kiss upon (Y/N)’s forehead, running her fingers through their hair. “ Now, rest.”

[maxpackerandmovers]

Looking for the best packers and movers services in Gurgaon? The Safehouse PG makes your move simple and stress-free! From expert packing to secure transportation, we handle it all with care. Whether it’s your home or office, trust us to ensure your belongings reach you safely and on time.

[multistanisms]

Let Our Circle Be Unbroken;  Prologue | NCT

FANDOM: NCT

PAIRING: Jaehyun x Taeyong, Yuta x OC

WORD COUNT: 1,704

RATING: PG-13

POTENTIAL TRIGGERS: Mentions of violence, blood, pain, animal death

SUMMARY:  Surviving a near death experience comes with a lot of surprises when warlock Jeong Jaehyun finds a dragon in a place that holds tragic memories for him. Nothing is as whirlwind, though, as when Jaehyun begins to meet the little clan of misfits Taeyong has gathered over the years and a mystery is revealed.

Author Notes: Reposting this from my archived blog to update the links [cuz I do not remember how to log into my old fic blog]

Previous || Masterlist || Next

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

‘Shit. This is bad. Really bad.’ Jaehyun thought as he ran. His magic enabled him to carry an unnatural speed in his rush, but the blood seeping from his side was an impending sign of how quickly he could lose consciousness if he wasn’t careful. He could hear the hunters, however, so stopping was not a viable option. The small group was far enough out of reach to not make a direct hit on him with their weapons but still close enough to hear their hounds and shouts. Humans with little more than fear and a prejudice against those who were different. Jaehyun was no fool to think he was immune to the tragedy of the human mind; he’d lived long enough to know better. No one who was born supernatural - even humans who happened to have a supernatural ancestor and ended up gifted - could escape being the object of human failure. 

This, though, was by far the closest in centuries the warlock had felt close to death. Even his magic was waning, losing it’s precision as his vision began to blur and darken at the edges. ‘Fuck, I’m running out of time.’ The thought hit him harder than a swift punch to the stomach or an unexpected kick to the nether region, and the warlock dove into the shadows of a nearby alley, cloaking himself. A swift escape was of utmost importance if he planned on surviving the wound in his side and keeping his eyes; the thing Jaehyun knew they would take as a trophy from his death. Dark hair was caked with sweat and Jaehyun is glaringly aware that he needs to focus on escaping or he may not make it to see the sunrise. His manor isn’t safe anymore, he knows that. If they could flush him out from his café, they no doubt knew where his home was. His other properties were currently being used as safehouses, and Jaehyun was in no way going to kickstart any stress or shock to those guests. A shaky breath shook Jaehyun’s body as he closed his eyes, glamour falling. As he looked up at the sky, he opened his eyes, revealing reptilian green irises accented by rainbow slits. His glamour wasn’t a priority compared to the situation he was in. A breath taken too hard made him wince as he leaned his head back against the dark grey terracotta wall.

‘Damn it, Jaehyun, think.’ he scolds himself, hand pressing to the gunshot wound in his side. ‘Think, think, think. Somewhere. There has to be somewhere.’ 

He’s jolted back to reality viciously when the renewed sounds of baying from the dogs is suddenly much closer. Large hunting breeds, vicious when they find their intended target. Fear riddles through Jaehyun’s blood like a discarded cigar on gasoline, and there’s a sudden flash through his mind. The answer is a risk, and there are so many emotions that bubble through his heart, but escape is at his grasp and he isn’t going to squander it because of a past he’d rather forget. Hope blooms to simmer down some of the fear, and his eyes ripple to life, glamour and natural color fighting as he brings the necessary casting rune to the forefront of his mind. He knows he has one, maybe two or an even slimmer three chances at this before he completely loses consciousness from the blood and he’s killed by fangs and crossbows alike. He traces the rune over the concrete, begging for it to work. Uneven breath halts when the magic fizzles and dies, leaving a pale shape on the cement. ‘No. Damn it to hell.’ he thought, frantically scribbling the rune on the cold pavement again. ‘Not here. Not like this. Please, no.’ Every fiber of his being was focused between panic and the need to escape. The rune fizzles at the edges and Jaehyun’s heart begins dropping before the magic sticks and the rune changes shape into the round portal that offers him escape. He moved to toss himself through the hole when his relief was cut short. A loud growl and sharp pain exploded over his arm as one of the dogs located him. With a yelp, Jaehyun’s balance was lost and he fell into the space, dragging the canine with him into the brief abyss before he crashed into a table on a large porch that gave way. 

Air left him in a rush and a weak groan, the overall pain finally making it almost impossible to stay awake. The dog released his arm and went to find purchase elsewhere when something snatched it up, and Jaehyun was vaguely aware of potential danger when he heard the brief scuffle of his predator becoming prey instead. Danger. The manor in the field wasn’t safe, either, it seemed. His vision was nearly completely black at this point, all he was aware of was black and rainbow dancing before him as unconsciousness took him hostage. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dragons had long faded from the forefront of the minds of the normal humans, but it wasn’t so simple as they had died off or been killed. Most had merely learned to stay in their human forms when among the masses, clans separated into smaller numbers to keep the species safe. Lee Taeyong was the youngest of the small sect from his clan, and the first to leave to find a clan of his own. His older sister, Areum, and their parents supported the choice, knowing full well that Taeyong had never really been able to be happy among only dragons. 

“Something else calls to you, little brother. You have to follow that to find your happiness.” Areum had told him as he had prepared to leave. IT was an emotional goodbye, but somehow, Taeyong knew he was heading into great things. 

And so the young dragon had gone off, found a clan of his own, and though the ranks weren’t large, the overall species was well mixed. And sometimes the clan had their own business to attend to, which was how Taeyong had found himself wandering the world, looking for a kind of vacation home for when the clan could reunite under one roof again. He had found one and had been working on remodeling and repairing it. The walls had all come down at their own pace, and the dragon had replaced them all and brought the house back to a lovely splendor. The high, covered wrap around porch was carefully set with a few swings, tables and chairs. Various plants were hung from the edge of the covering, a few potted plants settled among the railing around the porch. What had been an abandoned mansion that felt tragic and hopeless had started changing into a loving space. There was no furniture, but that would come in time. For now, the most important part was complete. The building was ready for it’s first bout of excitement when the clan gathered, and Taeyong was happy to think of that as he sat on the porch swing near the front door with a hot cup of tea as he watched the fall leaves drift about on the wind. His dream of making the property a home was almost done. A large garden ran along the west side of the mansion, a flower garden with a large pond and gazebo just north of the back entrance of the house. Imagining the fun and laughter that would one day be had made him content and he was humming softly to himself when there was a ripple of magic that pricked at his senses and made the hair on his arms stand up, goosebumps tracing up pale skin even under the soft, warm fabric of his favorite hoodie. Said goosebumps shivered briefly into black and rainbow colored scales that faded faster than they appeared. 

Curious, Taeyong reached to set his cup on the side table next to the swing, standing to walk down the porch steps and look around, hand resting on the large picnic table settled onto a large stone garden setup he had made for au fresco dining. Face contorted in confusion, he hummed curiously, moving to turn back when the magic came back in a much stronger wave, and Taeyong shifted out of protective instinct. The strong scent of coppery blood hit his nose first, then a loud crash and growling. When the intruding creature realized there was someone else, it released its prey to charge at Taeyong, only to wind up eaten by the large dragon. Tension still in his muscles, he turned his attention to the now destroyed table. The tabletop itself was surprisingly intact, the legs, however, would need to be remade. Now, though, with the immediate threat out of the way, the dragon brought himself closer to the scent of blood to better investigate. What he found was startling for him. The male was unconscious and very hurt, and despite the wounds and ragged breathing, Taeyong could see the male was beautiful. Magic was a palpable taste in the air, telling Taeyong the young man was likely a warlock or witch. What struck the dragon as odd was the intense need to save the other. 

Shifting back into human form, he lifted the other with ease, forgetting about the blood around his mouth and on his clothes as he carried the male into the mansion and laid him on the couch. “Where did you come from, beautiful?” he asked, looking over what he could to assess the damage. Blood had dried the male’s clothing to his skin, and there was a chunk of the man’s arm from the animal biting him. It was a lot to patch up for just one dragon, so Taeyong made a choice as he wrapped the dark blanket he’d been using around the unknown male. He walked to the porch to grab his phone, dialing a number as he knelt by the couch to brush his hand through the dark hair of the hurt man. When the other side fo the line picked up, Taeyong smiled. 

“Hey there, handsome. Are you and Arashi free? I need some serious help and your girl has the best magic to do so.”

[phogatpg]

Phogat PG is the top option for girls if you're looking for a PG in sector 46 Gurgaon. For girls, rental rooms are available. Our tenants receive high-caliber services from us. PG is situated close to a shopping centre, a metro station, and easy access to transportation. The accommodations at the PG are roomy and cosy. With all the amenities of a Safehouse PG living space, Phogat PG is an affordable option for girls. Spacious, fully furnished rooms with air conditioning, good furniture, an attached bathroom, and a wardrobe.

[safehousegirlpg]

Experience the Pinnacle of Living at Luxury PG in Gurgaon.

Welcome to The Safehouse PG, where you can experience the pinnacle of living at our luxury PG in Gurgaon. Our elegantly designed and fully furnished rooms offer a comfortable stay with amenities such as high-speed Wi-Fi, housekeeping services, 24/7 security, and more. Elevate your lifestyle with us at Safehouse PG.

[thesafehousepg]

Are you Looking For a PG Hostel in Sector 38, Sohna Road Gurgaon? The Safehousepg provides furnished rooms with attached bathroom and free Wi-fi.

[drarryficrecs]

Hi! Do you have good roommates fic recs that aren’t eight year AUs?

● The Claiming Of Grimmauld Place by bixgirl1. Rated Explicit, word count 74k.

When Grimmauld Place begins fighting against Harry’s ownership of it, he decides he needs help to train the historic home — but little does he expect that it’ll be Malfoy who’s most suitable for the challenge. However, as Malfoy and Harry get closer, Harry comes to understand that expectations aren’t always the best path by which to guide his heart — and in the process learns just what is needed to make a house a home.

● (The Piece) I Was Missing All Along by lauren3210. Rated Explicit, word count 30k.

Draco and Harry have been flatmates and best friends for years, and Draco thinks life is just perfect that way. But when something comes along and threatens to take all that away, Draco has to decide what it is he really wants, and just how hard he's going to work to get it.

● Room Mating by QueenyMidas. Rated Explicit, word count 6k.

Harry and Draco are roommates after Hogwarts, having forged an unlikely friendship. However, after a night of Draco going through his exes to try and figure out where he’s gone wrong in his romantic life, he comes to discover that he could want more than friendship with The Boy Who Lived.

● Strange Bedfellows by treacle_tartlet. Rated PG, word count 6k.

Harry and Draco are living together at Grimmauld Place, because of reasons. Stuff happens. Look, just read the fic, okay?

● All Must Draw Near by Saras_Girl. Rated M, word count 61k.

Harry doesn't have time for rumours; he has a shop to run. Which is just as well, really.

● The More Loving One by StacPolly. Rated M, word count 44k. (This is All Must Draw Near, written from Draco's POV.)

He knows what it looks like, two men, living and working together, but they are doing absolutely fine as they are, thank you very much. However, there's no smoke without fire, as the boys are about to discover.

● This Feeling Inside by Andithiel. Rated M, word count 8k.

Harry Potter and his flatmate Draco are both straight as nails. But during a lockdown, things start to get a little desperate, and suddenly they’re giving each other friendly handjobs and blowjobs on the regular. But that’s okay. That’s just what friends do. Right?

A story about two oblivious idiots, told through the diary of Harry James Potter.

● The Danger Within by Justlikewriting. Rated M, word count 23k.

Harry knew it would be difficult the very moment he realised who he was going to be cooped up with. In a safehouse. For what could be weeks, or months, or even longer. But he also knew that - especially since the bite - he was probably the best Auror for the job. And Draco deserved that.

Furthermore, it had been four years: they should be able to make this work.

● A Wish and a Wardstone by vivi1138. Rated Explicit, word count 26k.

Draco makes a wish and it has unexpected consequences.

A fluffy winter tale filled with hot drinks, warm blankets, and cuddles.

[gorogues]

Fictober 2022

Prompt number #20 Fanfiction Fandom: Flash Rogues Rating: PG-13 Warnings: Profanity.

Day Twenty: “There’s only us.”

It wasn’t the first time they’d seen a Multiversal threat.  But it was the first time they’d decided to step up.

“So you all know the deal,” Len began.  “Some fucked-up interdimensional demon things are running loose all over the world, and when they grab hold of you and stare into your eyes, you turn into one of them.  The ‘heroes’ are trying to stop them at their source, so the cities are left unprotected and it’s up to the rest of us to keep `em from burning.”

“Still think we should let it burn,” Mick said sullenly, though everyone ignored him.

“Nobody’s obliged to help,” Len reminded the assembled Rogues.  “Anyone who wants to hide, escape, or go on a crime spree is free to do so without judgment.  But the rest of us are gonna keep the peace in the Twin Cities.  Any questions?”

“What happens if one of us gets turned?” Lisa asked, and Len looked deeply pained.  He was imagining it happening to her.

“Let’s hope it never comes to that,” was all he could say, turning away so the others couldn’t see the worry on his face.  He checked his watch, which provided an opportunity to distract himself from those thoughts.  “Mardon and Dillon are due back with scouting reports in two minutes.”

Mark and Roscoe returned separately within the next few minutes, both looking tired and haggard.

“It’s bad out there,” Mark said quietly, shaking his head.  “Lotta demons.”

“And they’re converting people all the time,” Roscoe added.  “Civilians try to make a run for it, but are easily caught and turned.  I paused on the ground for a moment and one of the demons grabbed hold of my hand, but fortunately I was able to spin away.” 

He held up his palm and there was a moderately sized scorch mark on it, prompting Lisa to begin fussing over him.

“So we got our work cut out for us,” Len concluded grimly.  “Any guesses on how many demons are in the two cities right now?”

“Somewhere between seven and twelve thousand, and their numbers are growing all the time,” Mark replied, and Roscoe nodded in agreement.  Both were taking advantage of the rare opportunity to rest while they could.

“Okay then.  Are the stockpiles ready?”

“Every working weapon is here or in one of the supply depots, ready for action,” Hartley confirmed, holding up his inventory sheet.  “Sam’s readied the medical and food supplies here and in the other safehouses, so we can eat, sleep, and get patched up if there’s an injury.”

“I’ve already prepared the plans for feeding and sheltering civilians,” James said.

“Then I guess it’s time to head out.  You all know what you need to do, and where the other hideouts are.  Let’s go protect the cities,” Len announced calmly.

And they stepped out into new territory.

[thetriggeredhappy]

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.