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ragnarockz · 3 months ago

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The Tape

Part 3: Hiding the Tape

Part 1, Part 2

@sapphictea & @whomstthephucque 😁💔

Please know that all lawyers that have been sicced on me and the need to provide financial compensation for your pain and suffering...UNDERSTOOD!

Volcano Girls by Veruca Salt

They used to find her amusing whenever she would walk in with her big boots and her girlfriend attached to her hip.

Not anymore.

They had a store employee follow her around now; watching diligently in case she got the smart idea to lift another bottle. She had done it before. Maybe twice or three times. But she had done it. Now they watched her like a hawk as she pays. Now they make her leave her bag with them until she's done. Now they hold the door open for her, not in chivalry or respect, but a definite last push to get her to leave.

The bottle is open even before she takes a step out onto the sidewalk. Lip to mouth as she walks aimlessly and drinks what she can afford. It was the last of her pay from another job she managed to blow off.

You've come too many times too late.

You've come too many times drunk.

You don't come at all.

Wasn't worth the hassle, she mused as she kept walking. She felt like her boots were too big for her now. This wasn't her anymore. Maybe none of it ever was. They were just playing pretend; playing dress up. They were just eating each other out and sleeping in the same bed and pretending to be girlfriends because it was convenient and attractive. Because it fit a weird and strange narrative.

She crossed the street to avoid the coffee shop entirely.

She crossed back when she got closer to the bar.

She left the empty bottle outside, placing it down before she wiped her hands and the back of her mouth and tried to fix her hair and clothes. Tried to stand up a little straighter and keep her eyes open. She didn't want to get kicked out the second she stepped in.

It was loud and noisy and people were everywhere. She made her way to the bar and took a seat at the far end. Held her breath before she breathed out and asked the bar tender for whatever was cheap. Eyebrows rose, but there was no argument there. Agnes sighed some relief.

She felt an elbow in her back and spun her head around. Some drunk fucking prick had bumped into her and was now laughing with his friends. It was funny; it was cool. Laugh it off and brush it off and drink another shot because why does it matter. Why should it matter.

But it did. It always does.

Agnes was off her stool before her own drink hit the table and her arms and hands were up before the dickhead even realized she was standing in front of him.

A solid punch to the jaw; upward angle because she was short and he was tall.

He staggered back, more so from being tipsy and not so much from her power in her punch.

The bar went quiet for a split second before it got louder than it was before, and the asshole pushed himself back up with his hands up.

"Who's this fucking dyke?!"

Asshole's friend screamed as she laughed; that booming obnoxious laugh that made him feel like he was the center of the world with the biggest cock between his legs.

Agnes winced with hate. Raw and pure and unfiltered hate. Hands still up to protect her face.

"You think I'm gonna fucking fight you? You stupid bitch!"

Dickhead basically spat at her as he drew his hands down just enough for Agnes to land another punch right between his eyes.

He crashed back down again, and suddenly, there were arms holding her back and wrapping around her own. She was being put into a press in a lock. She was being pulled away from the scene. Guided backward to the back of the bar near the door to the kitchen and the bathroom. She was thrown against the wall.

"Did you think you were going to win that fight?"

Some guy with a mustache was looking at her and pointing his finger like it was her coach. She barked a laugh and nodded her head; let it rest on the wall. She was fucking exhausted. She was done. Her bones felt like jello, and her head was about to explode.

"You're better off putting all that anger and brain power to better use than stealing from the liquor store and then getting into bar fights..."

Agnes squinted at the man. How the fuck did he know all about that? How would he have-

Fuck.

"Fuckin' cop..."

She whispered under her breath, shaking her head as she smiled. Busted.

"Fuckin' cop is right. Look, I don't know what kind of trouble you're going through but...people used to tell me you were good."

"No one's good, Chief..."

"Officer. I'm not a chief yet."

"Whatever. What the fuck does it matter. You're still a cop."

He rolled his eyes as he dug into his pocket. Agnes flinched, not sure what was going to come out. A notepad and a pen. He scribbled something down, ripped off the sheet, and put it into the top pocket of her flannel shirt.

"You look good in blue. I think it suits you."

And with that, he stepped back and turned to walk away.

Agnes quickly assessed the bar and the people in it. No one was looking for where she had gone just yet. She quickly followed in the cops footsteps and left before shit truly hit the fan.

But now and then we fail and we admit defeat

We're falling off, we are watered down and fully grown

The apartment was an open wound whenever she stepped inside. There was basically no sign of life. Alice had taken most of what was in there; a lot of it hers to begin with.

The kitchen table was still there, and the microwave that sorta worked. The couch was too big and not needed for her to haul. The couch they had countless times fucked on; fucked each other on. No TV and no CD player and no nothing.

The bedroom that was supposed to be hers from the start before she infiltrated Alice's bed was still set up for her. Alice didn't and couldn't take that. Agnes needed somewhere to sleep. She had left it plain; didn't decorate it. Didn't have the heart to.

Alice's old bedroom door was closed, and Agnes didn't dare open it. Let the ghosts live there now, she thought. All our dying wishes and hopes and dreams. That was their space.

She peeled off her clothes and dropped them wherever they fell. She was standing naked in her sad little empty room with a headache and a sore fist that was split at the knuckles. A sour taste in the back of her throat.

She ran to the little washroom and threw up in the sink and didn't let her eyes catch herself in the mirror. She wasn't going to like what she saw anymore. Laughing a little to herself; she was thankful the vomit was just from the booze and the bad lack of sleep; the awful food she ate and not from another pregnancy.

Stumbling back to her room, she swiped her flannel off of the floor and dug her fingers into the pocket to fish out the piece of paper. A phone number next to initials P.J.

She slammed the paper onto the night table before she got into bed and curled up; facing the door and the closet on the opposite wall. She could see the fucking brown, white and black box tucked in the corner. She mumbled to herself as she pushed off of the bed. She slammed the closet door before returning to her spot.

She was good at that now, she thought, closing doors and leaving them closed.

#Marvel #Agatha All Along #Butch!Agatha #Agnes O'Connor #Agnes of Westview #Alice Wu Gulliver #Writing #The Tapes #Sweethearts and Sunshine #Alice/Agnes #Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh #I KNOW SHE CAN FIGHT #LET HER FIGHT #Also shoutout to our BOI IYKYK!#I was wondering how I was gonna tie her ass into going the cop direction and voila #Violence OBVIOUSLY = a policing job #Is that too on the nose?#Whatever man

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