#at least its only an 8 hour shift tomorrow | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

suddenlybambi · 1 year

Text

as long as you stay here [5] ♥ kyle broflovski

pairing : kyle broflovski x reader

college AU - 18+

tags : strangers to friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff, angst, alcohol, afab reader, she/her pronouns, eventual smut

words : 2.6k

chapter 5

previous | next | alaysh masterlist

a/n - hnngghhh i wasn't going to post a chapter every day because i wanted to have a backlog of chapters just in case but i love seeing y'all react to alaysh and i have 0 self control so... chapter 5 baybeee

Y/N was halfway through her 8-hour shift by the time she managed to stop for a break to check her phone again without Jay spotting her and dragging her back out to the front of the diner. Anxiety had been eating her up, wondering if Kyle had messaged her back and how he had reacted to it. She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or more nervous when she saw that she had a notification from him. Trying not to overthink it more than she already had been, which was nearly impossible as she had greatly overthought it, she opened the message.

kyle 📗 : Hey! No worries!

kyle 📗 : I completely get it. I still grab Stan’s hand to cross the road because I used to do that for my little brother 😅

Just like that, all of Y/N’s nerves that had been building up for 4 hours dissipated in an instant. Kyle didn’t think she was a complete weirdo. Or, at least, he didn’t openly say it to her, which was good enough. Most people thought of her as a little weird anyway.

y/n 💕 : thank god 😭

y/n 💕 : Wendy does that to me, but she’s an only child so she has no excuse!

y/n 💕 : really sorry for the late response, work has been chaos - I can’t wait to get out of here

Y/N didn’t expect Kyle to respond instantly, but she was happy he did, as it gave her something to do on her 5-minute break besides scroll Twitter until she got annoyed at some piss-poor take and close it again, only to open it a second later and repeat the process.

kyle 📗 : What time do you finish?

y/n 💕 : not until 10pm so I have another 4 hours

kyle 📗 : Is Bebe going to pick you up?

y/n 💕 : nah, I usually walk it - its only 20 minutes

y/n 💕 : or I get an Uber if its raining but I try not to do that too often as they can get pricey at that time

kyle 📗 : I don’t want to sound rude, but isn’t that area known for being a bit dangerous at night?

y/n 💕 : I guess it’s not great, but it could be worse?

y/n 💕 : only two homicides in the past year!

y/n 💕 : I have my pepper spray and a mean high-kick!

kyle 📗 : I’ll come and get you at 10pm to take you home.

kyle 📗 : to your house that is

kyle 📗 : not mine

kyle 📗 : sorry that came out wrong

kyle 📗 : You can come back to mine if you want, but I figured you’d rather go back to yours.

Y/N couldn’t stop herself from giggling at her phone as Kyle’s texts came through in the space of seconds. He texted so formally until he was panicking, and then the punctuation and capitalised letters were dropped.

y/n 💕 : that would be great, thank you, but I don’t want you staying up late on account of me

y/n 💕 : gotten this far without being the third homicide 😅

kyle 📗 : My first lecture isn’t until 11am tomorrow, so I don’t need to be up early.

kyle 📗 : I don’t usually get to sleep until late anyway.

y/n 💕 : I have to get back to serving customers before my boss catches me

y/n 💕 : thank you so much, I really owe you one! I’ll see you later

The rest of Y/N’s shift seemed to pass by a lot faster than the first half, aside from one incident with a very disgruntled man who had to eventually be kicked out by Doris.

“I’ll finish cleaning that, hun,” Doris grabbed the cloth from Y/N’s hands and pointed over at the window. “Your boyfriend is outside waiting for you. Has been for five minutes.” Y/N’s head perked up as she saw Kyle’s car.

“He’s not my-” She started to protest, but Doris waved her hands dismissively.

“Yeah, yeah!” She scoffed, gently pushing Y/N towards the breakroom so she could grab her bag. “Jay packed up two lots of food for you earlier. Don’t forget to grab it on your way out.”

“How did you know he’d be picking me up?” Y/N asked once she had grabbed her bag and the two take-out boxes full of fries.

“You’ve had that dopey smile on your face all evening,” Doris shook her head as though it were perfectly obvious. “Don’t keep him waiting then.” She quite literally pushed Y/N out of the door, locking it behind her so she couldn’t get back in and complain about it. With a roll of her eyes, she made her way over to where Kyle was leaning against his car, looking at his phone.

“Hey, stranger,” She laughed, catching his attention. He looked up and smiled as he saw her. The flickering light that barely illuminated the car park caused his red hair to almost glow. “Long time no see!”

“You’ve changed so much, I almost didn’t recognise you!” Kyle played along with the joke, opening the door for Y/N. She was warmed by the polite action.

“Ah, yes,” She chuckled once he’d gotten into the driver’s seat. “That would be the grease, sweat, and humidity causing my hair to defy gravity.”

“Ha! Mine doesn’t need any of that!” Kyle gestured at his curly red hair, running a hand through it to make it stick up. Y/N watched as it stuck in the same position when he moved his hand away. “What have you got?” He nodded over at the two boxes of take-out in her hands while trying to smooth his hair back into a presentable shape.

“What have we got?” She corrected, passing him one of the boxes. “Probably just fries. Nowhere near as good as the ones from the place Kenny works, but they hit the spot after being on your feet for 8 hours,” She opened her box to confirm that, yes, it was just full of fries. “You don’t have to eat them if you don’t want them. Doris insisted on me bringing them for you.”

“And here I was thinking you had done it out of the kindness of your heart,” Kyle teased, his smile betraying his seriousness. “I’m actually starving. I forgot to stop to eat after taking Stan and Wendy home. I just shut myself in my room all evening so they couldn’t complain to me about how hungover they were and ask me to do things for them.”

“Cheers!” Y/N held up one of the fries, Kyle did the same, and they tapped them together, eating them in unison.

“Oh… wow…” He looked down at the box of fries, eating a couple more. “These are…”

“Terrible, right?” She laughed, eating her own at an alarming rate.

“Yeah… Why can’t I stop eating them?”

“Because they are the best worst fries you’ll ever have!”

“So, how was work?” Kyle asked.

“It was pretty average,” Y/N shrugged. “Except for this one asshole of a customer.”

“What happened?”

“Okay, so,” She shuffled to get herself comfortable before she started giving the rundown of the situation. “I asked him what he wanted, and he said ‘egg’. That’s it, nothing else, just ‘egg’. So I was like, cool, sure, how do you want your egg? And he said ‘normal’.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Exactly! So obviously, I asked him what he meant by that, and he said ‘normal egg’ again, and I was trying to explain to him that just repeating the words wouldn’t make me understand them, but he kept on insisting that he just wanted ‘normal egg with absolutely nothing else’.”

“So what did you do?”

“I went to the kitchen and got an uncooked egg and just placed it in front of him.”

“How did he react?”

“He lost it! Doris wanted to kick him out there and then, but I couldn’t let him leave without knowing what the fuck ‘normal egg’ was to him. I was asking him to describe it, and he just kept on repeating that he wanted ‘normal egg’ until, eventually, he pointed at another guy’s plate and said that, obviously, that’s what he meant. Guess what he wanted.”

“Oh no… what did he want?”

“An omelette! You know, that thing where the egg is just one part of it, and you add a bunch of other shit to it? And he looked at me like I was stupid because I didn’t understand that a ‘normal egg with absolutely nothing else’ clearly meant that he wanted an omelette with ham, chicken, cheese, and pepper!”

“Did he get his omelette in the end?” Kyle was laughing as the story went on, seeming to be genuinely interested in it. It made a nice change from when Bebe would pretend to listen to Y/N’s work stories so she could have a turn talking about what she did in her day.

“Made him wait 20 minutes thinking he’ll get his stupid ‘normal egg’ until Doris kicked him out,” Y/N snorted at the memory of how furious the man looked, announcing he would be leaving a terrible review of the place. “I’m just glad he didn’t wait to jump me outside after my shift.”

“Has that ever happened?” Kyle’s smile dropped in a split second, suddenly incredibly concerned. “Has someone tried to attack you after work?”

“Once!” She admitted. “But it was just some scrawny drunk asshole who could barely stand, let alone throw a punch. He fell over after one swing, and I kicked him in the balls for good measure.”

“Send me your work schedule,” He requested, tapping his phone, which had been resting on the dashboard.

“Why?” Y/N laughed softly. “What are you going to do? Are you gonna escort me to and from work each shift to make sure I stay out of trouble?”

“Yes,” She had been joking, but Kyle seemed very serious.

“It’s not a big deal, really,” She sighed. “I’ve been working this job since I moved here. Incidents like that are few and far between.”

“If you won’t tell me, I’ll just ask Bebe and Wendy for it,” He shrugged. “You shouldn’t have to risk being jumped by a pissed-off customer while walking home late at night.” Y/N could sense that she wasn’t going to win this fight.

“Yes, sir,” She sighed dramatically, not noticing how red Kyle’s face turned at the title. She patted his thigh. “Come on, are you gonna take me home, or were you planning on sitting in your car together all night?”

Sitting in her lecture with nothing but pure fury in her eyes, Y/N pulled her phone out and opened up her messages.

y/n 💕 : did you forget that I sit behind you?

y/n 💕 : those chips have a label with my name on it

y/n 💕 : this is an english class and you can’t even read

y/n 💕 : explain yourself

clyde 🕹 : i thought the label was a joke lol 😅

y/n 💕 : you’re the fucking joke here

clyde 🕹 : i’ll buy you some more chill out 🙄

y/n 💕 : this is strike two

clyde 🕹 : what?

clyde 🕹 : what was strike 1?

y/n 💕 : walking around the apartment naked

y/n 💕 : which you have done four times so you’re lucky I’m only counting it as one

clyde 🕹 : do you want the chips back?

y/n 💕 : after your grubby hands have been in the packet rubbing against them?

y/n 💕 : hard pass dude

Clyde turned his head to look at Y/N as she sat behind him in the lecture. She flipped him the middle finger, and he rolled his eyes. Over the two and a half weeks that Clyde had been living in the apartment, the two had developed a relationship akin to siblings, where they would bicker one second, and then it was like everything was fine, and they had never argued the next. Y/N had even surprised herself by willingly spending time with him on multiple occasions when she didn’t have to.

“Are we getting food after this?” Y/N bent down to ask him as their lecture finished and the other students started to pack up.

“You won’t take the chips because my hands have touched them, but you still expect me to drive you around?” Clyde scoffed at her, leaning back in his seat so his head rested against the back of the desk Y/N had been working on. “Don’t you have a shift at the diner?”

“Shitttt,” She groaned, closing her eyes in disappointment. “Can you drop me off at home, please? I don’t have my uniform.”

“Sorry, babe, I’ve got plans with Craig, Tweek, and Tolkien,” He shrugged, giving her a half-hearted empathetic smile. Y/N had gotten to know the other people from South Park during Clyde’s stay at the apartment. She got along with them decently well, but no one compared to how close she had become with Kyle. They studied together almost every day, and he had insisted on following through with his plans to take her to and from work on days when she didn’t have any other transport so she wouldn’t have to walk it.

“Gross, never call me babe again.”

“But Bebe calls you babe?”

“I like Bebe.”

“Wow, I’m definitely not giving you a ride now.”

“You weren’t going to anyway, dickwad!” Y/N was distracted when her phone buzzed in her pocket. Clyde took this as an opportunity to escape while she wasn’t looking, but she threw up another middle finger as she caught him slinking away from the corner of her eye.

kyle 📗 : Do you need a ride today?

y/n 💕 : your timing is perfect as always! 🥰

y/n 💕 : yes please! I completely forgot I had work today so I need to grab my uniform from home if thats okay with you?

kyle 📗 : Of course 😊

kyle 📗 : Be there in two minutes, I’m just around the corner.

True to his word, Kyle was there within two minutes, almost exactly on the dot. Y/N felt guilty about how much he had been driving her around in the two and a half weeks that they had known one another, but he was always the one to offer.

“Before I forget, your apron is in the trunk,” Kyle gestured behind him while Y/N climbed into the passenger’s seat. “You left it in here the other day. I managed to get that one stain out.”

“You cleaned it for me?” She grinned at him, securing her seatbelt. “That stain has been there for a month. How did you get it out?” The stain had come from a customer knocking a bottle of ketchup over and accidentally dropping their bag on it; it splattered everywhere. Jay had to get it off the ceiling. She didn’t know what was in the ketchup, but it looked like watered-down blood splattered on her apron after scrubbing it for an hour straight.

“My mom used to make me help with the washing whenever I was in trouble,” He chuckled a little uncomfortably. “I was in trouble a lot, so I got really good at it.”

“Wow! What a little rebel! Who knew?” She teased, drumming her fingers against the dashboard as Kyle started driving.

“Yeah, well, the guys would always drag me into their schemes. Someone had to be the voice of reason.”

“You’ll have to teach me your cleaning secrets. I have some shirts with some pesky stains that I haven’t been able to get out with anything.”

“Bring them to me, and I’ll sort them,” Kyle smiled as he caught a glimpse of Y/N’s grin out of the corner of his eye. It had been so easy to grow attached to her. He couldn’t remember what he did all day without her.

a/n - let me know if you would like to be on the taglist for this fic

current taglist - @n0tangeliccc @solana-central @charqing-qing @eiizabeth-torres @hand-writxen @audiliah @cosmicbroenies @himoutolikesjojo

#kyle broflovski #kyle broflovski fic #south park fanfiction #south park fic #south park kyle #alaysh #alaysh suddenlybambi #as long as you stay here #kyle broflovski x reader #sp kyle

86 notes · View notes

naxcoffe · 1 year

Note

any advice for time crunch manifestations? like if i need to manifest something by tomorrow or in a few hours? ik time crunches aren’t ideal and it’s better to just not manifest under one but if you really need to? thank you so much 🫶🫶

Time crunch in manifestation ????

I think personally before I give my opinion to this, this is my view on time crunches and the most effective way to manifest when you are in a “time rush”.

—————————————————-

Time doesn’t exist and is a human construct. You WILL, face resistance as the “date” approaches and will doubt yourself with things like “oh will this work” “will this happen” just focus on already having it. if something shows up 8 days later, will you reject it?

I’m not saying that if you believe in time crunches you manifestations won’t come to fruition but is really useless because it doesn’t work for most people and honestly

Is way easier to imagine that event as if has already happened!

"The imagination is a creative power within every individual, and it is through the use of this power that we create our reality. Our imagination is capable of bringing into being anything that we can conceive of, as long as we believe in its reality. By imagining our desires as already fulfilled, we impress upon the subconscious mind the reality of our desires, and the subconscious mind then goes to work to bring about the circumstances that will make our desires a reality. The power of the imagination is unlimited, and it is up to us to use it to our advantage to create the life that we truly desire."

-Neville Goddard.

Our imagination has the ability to bring our desires to life by forming mental images and feelings of what we want.

I believe that the subconscious mind is a fertile ground for these images and feelings to take root and manifest in our physical reality. In other words, what we imagine and feel strongly about becomes our reality.

If imagination is the only thing, and is the only reality, then use it to your favor!

If my imagination is the only reality, then I already had that certain thing at that certain specific event.

you should not manifest with the goal to have it out in the 3D. The only goal should be to have it in your imagination.

I think a lot of people really suffer a lot due to their perception of time. If you truly accept that you can create whatever you want using your mind and that you're the one who has ALWAYS been creating, one side benefit is a (totally unexpected, for me) release from the pressure crunch of a "time is running out" living in/worrying about the future mentality that most people are dealing with, at least to some degree.

To FULLY experience this shift in perspective about time, you have to have bought FULLY into the understanding that there are NO forces outside of you dictating your experience.

Knowing that you are the creator ends up keeping you in the present. When creating in 4D/ your imagination, it's in the present. When you are in 3D, there's no need to worry about the past or future since you understand that you're in control of both of those as well.

There's essentially no need to think about anything but RIGHT NOW.

You already have that thing!!!!!

#desires #law of assumption #loa assumption advice #loassumption #manifest #manifestation #manifesting #neville goddard #subconscious #loa #loassblog #law of attraction #law of allowing #affirmyourlife #affirm and persist #affirmyourreality #affirmations #law of desire #how to manifest

30 notes · View notes

risingwiththeheatabove · 1 year

Text

A Little Honey - Background

Pairing: Josh X Reader

Series list

Warnings for series: 18+, Alcoholism, toxic parents, domestic abuse, drug use, alcohol use, explicit sexual content, NSFW, smut, unprotected sex, fingering, oral, blood kink, praise kink, daddy kink, and probably so much more that I am forgetting

Word count 1.9 K

July 2021

It is a hot and humid July day in Nashville, though you have never been one to mind the heat. Summer days were your favorite for sitting out on your balcony with a good book and a cold drink. Todays drink of choice was a lavender lemonade mock tail. Condensation collected on the glass the second you stepped outside. Finding a shaded spot to move your chair, you settled in with your new book. You had a few hours before your shift started that afternoon at the bar.

You have been a bartending ever since you could remember. Your dad owned a bar growing up and he often relied on you to cover shifts. Completely illegal but it was such a small town and most of the patrons were unbothered by your age. Many praised you for working so young. Though you never really had a choice in the matter. Your dad was a bad alcoholic and you knew upsetting him was dangerous. He eventually lost the bar when you went to college. He blamed you for its closing. At times you felt guilty for letting him down. But as you got older and your relationship with him grew apart. You realized how toxic he was. Leaving you with nothing but childhood trauma and daddy issues.

When your parents split you went with your dad and your younger sister went with your mom. You can still picture your mom packing up the old ford truck. She took whatever she could fit. Which meant only one of her children. Your sister was 4 years old and you were 8. Your mom knew you could take care of yourself. But your sister was still to young. Or at least that is what she told you before sitting your sister in the truck and driving down the dirt driveway. She flew down it so fast a dust cloud was tossed in the air losing all visibility of the truck. That was the last time you saw your mom.

For years your parents kept you and your sister from being able to communicate. You both tried to find ways to build a relationship with one another. Following each other on social media or finding Chatrooms and forums to try and talk when you could. Eventually your mother disconnected the internet to prevent your sister from connecting with you. Until one day when you were in college you received a phone call in the middle of the night from an unknown number.

October 2015

“Hello?” You grumbled half awake.

“Y/N???” A young voice on the other end cried.

Confused you pulled your phone away from your face to check the time

12:51 am

“Who is this? Why the fuck are you calling me at midnight? Rachel this better not be you trying to prank me. You know I have a fucking exam tomorrow.” You had been up studying all night and finally just got to sleep.

“Y/N I am so sorry! But I have no one else to call. It’s me Y/N, it’s Nora.”

You were at a loss for words. Your eyes glazed over and your jaw was limp.

“I need your help! Mom just fucking left me at a truck stop with a disposable phone and the only number in it is your’s!” She was crying as she spoke.

You knew your mom was evil but this was a new low. You stumbled out of bed turning on the light and trying to steady your mind. You ran your hand through your hair nervously.

“Where are you?” You said as you slid on pants, trying to locate your shoes.

“I think I am in Illinois, somewhere outside of St. Louis. She stopped to get gas and I went to go pee. When I came back out to where the car was parked all of my stuff was laying in the empty parking space with this phone.” She quickly stated. She was clearly panicking.

“Fuck, well I am in Manhattan, Kansas so it is going to be at least 6 hours before I can get to you. Can you find somewhere safe to stay until then?” You ran out of your dorm with keys in hand. This was not ideal, and there is no way you would make it to class tomorrow. You didn’t even have somewhere for her to stay since guests were not allowed in the dorms.

“I am so sorry Y/N! I do not want to fuck up your life too!” She was in a full blown panic attack at this point. Her words trembling with fear.

“I need you to take deep breaths with me. Can you do that?” You knew you had to calm her down to be able to find her.

You hear her crying slow down.

“In. Out. In. Out.” You repeat while you take loud synchronized breaths.

She begins to match your breathing.

“I will be in St. Louis is 6 hours and I will call you once I am there. I do not know how long the battery will last on that phone so only call me if its an emergency. Try to find somewhere safe and figure out where you are. Look for road signs, land marks, anything at all. You got it?”

“Y-Yes. I can try. I am so scared.” You hear her begin to cry.

“Hey, I know you are, but right now we have to get you safe.”

“Thank you Y/N.”

“Nora you are my sister, I would never leave you alone. I love you and I will call in a few hours.” You hang up the phone as you get on the road.

Ever since that night Nora has lived with you. You moved out of the dorms and got an apartment together that week. You dropped out of school sophomore year of collage so you could support the two of you. You were 20 and Nora was only 16. You had to go to court and become her legal guardian which was easier than it should have been since neither of your parents wanted her. You began bartending again at a few local bars to make ends meet. You had a hard few years until you met Chris.

You meet Chris through a friend. He seemed harmless at first. All you really knew about him at the beginning was that his family had cattle and money. You agreed to a blind date with him that went surprisingly well. Chris was tall and muscular. He had dark hair and blue eyes. He never grew his facial hair out but you always loved him with a stubble. He was not your typical type but you quickly fell in love despite that. The first year was fun and easy. But that all changed when you moved in together. Nora was 19 when Chris asked you to move in with him. You told him that you didn’t feel like you were ready to leave Nora. After weeks of arguing about it he finally agreed that the three of you could live together. Chris purchased a house with some land for you to all move into. He used his family money and agreed to keep cattle on the land to pay it back. You were still bartending, now at a local dive in your little country town in Nebraska. Chris hated the attention you would receive at the bar, but he never minded the free drinks. He often told you to change before your shifts because he deemed your outfit too revealing. About six months after you had moved in you noticed Chris had started drinking more than normal. You tried to discuss this with him but he told you to mind your own business. Nora could tell you were upset so she would try to get you out of the house when he was particularly intoxicated. All of the money you were making was going towards her schooling. She wanted to be a social worker to help kids who had similarly shitty childhoods. Two years into your relationship with Chris he became violent. It started with an unwelcome grab here and there. Quickly escalating to much more dangerous situations. You had been left broken and bloodied too many times to count. Each time trying to hide it from Nora, but she knew.

December 2020

“Fuck this Y/N!” Nora screamed busting into your room. Her short Blonde hair flying behind her as she ran to you.

You were in the bathroom trying to clean up your bloody nose and tear soaked skin. You jumped as she came through the door. All you could do was fall to the floor, ashamed of your sister seeing you this way. You were always the strong one. You had to keep it together for the both of you.

“Nora I am fine. Please just go before he comes back. I do not want you to get hurt!” You screamed at her through your tears.

“Stand up right fucking now! We are leaving! Pack whatever you can and I will meet you in the car in 10 minutes!” Nora grabbed your hands standing you up as she spoke. Her green eyes piercing into you. You could see the hurt she felt seeing you like this.

“Where will we go? We have nothing? No one! No one gives a shit about us Nora!” Still screaming at her.

She pulled you into a hug, crying into her you softened. Your head resting into her tall frame, just about at her shoulder.

“We have each other. And we always will. I fucking promise you. You saved me all those years ago. Let me save you!” She cried as she held you tighter.

That night you packed up a few bags of clothes and cosmetics and you drove to Nashville with a few thousand dollars and a beat up ford truck.

Nora and you had a rough start, renting rooms for weeks at a time. Working at multiple bars and clubs. Nora worked as a server and you a bartender, as always. It took you a few months to get an apartment but you finally did in April of 2021. you both worked your asses off for months until July came around and you finally began to feel settled. Nora was able to get a serving position at a fancy restaurant downtown which allowed her to have a more consistent schedule and even enjoy some free time. For the first time you didn’t have to support the two of you. This allowed you to resign from the shitty clubs and dive bars you had been working. You found a great bar in east Nashville that practically hired you on the spot after seeing your resume.

Life had become peaceful for Nora and yourself. You cherished your evenings together when you were not working. Spending time listening to music, cooking and catching up. You would often have coffee dates and go for walks at local parks. Camping was your favorite thing to do together when you could escape to nature for a few days. You would pack up the truck with your tent and various supplies and drive to one of Tennessee many state parks. You would hike and cook over the fire together. Often sharing too much wine and the perfect amount of laughter. Life was finally no longer a game of survival.

#josh kiszka x reader #josh kiszka fanfiction #josh kiszka smut #joshua michael kiszka #gvf smut #gvf series #gvf fanfiction #josh gvf #gvf fic #josh kiszka x y/n #josh kiszka #joshua kiszka

33 notes · View notes

bruiisedpetals-a · 1 year

Text

long NON RP RANT — about work bc the audacity!?!??! tldr: a girl who had applied and interviewed and confirmed her trial shift to be a barista last week and was V EXCITED so we cancelled another person for her trial .... showed up, said hi, chatted a bit, had a look inside, then said she was going for a walk to look around the area bc she isnt a local, and within 5 MINUTES (literally. five) ghosted, disappeared, text my boss and said “yeah nah bye”, and left me alone handling the whole place. cue endless work for me w double the usual customers, and a shift that lasted three hours longer that it should have bc of the ghosting.

rel context: i work in a small coffee & bagel place, two people on one shift: one on coffee & point of sale and another to be the cook, we also have two online food delivery providers so we take orders in person and from two apps + i’m a barista and have line cook kitchen prac & experience so am actually a ‘cook’ ig?

so i mentioned in my post when i was half asleep yesterday that i had a new person coming into my workplace for a trial today, so i stayed late to prep for weekend trade + restock stuff, and came in early to set up everything just in case. we were v busy yesterday with food as it was so i had a lot to restock, and w mothers day tomorrow everything needs to be topped up more-so. that a lot of work by itself to be honest but manageable in between cooking, esp when you have an extra set of hands when its quiet to help. look if you have seen any cooking show you might see that set up, prep and pack down take THE LONGEST ok.

— our permanent staff consists of me and K, we have two other locations so we get help from Z and J, and they can usually cover the shifts that K and i can’t (eg. K can’t do saturdays, i cant do every 3rd tuesday) but they manage other locations so they are not available without prior notice. so basically the only person who was available to work today was me, even my boss was busy moving house w his wife, 4mo and two under 8yo’s. —

this morning i’m at work at 7am, turn on things etc, set up my cooking stuff, open the coffee machine, nothing crazy. at abt 7:45am im chillin outside having a coffee and a smoke and someone walks up and it turns out to be the trial girl. we chat a bit etc, i show her inside and the machine (she’s a barista and i’m the cook on shift) — i say that i just heard from my boss myself, bc she had spoken w him earlier that morning, and he’s on the way and should be here within 5-7 mins ***technically we open at 8am but i was waiting for my boss but had checked the time to keep track & i had just text my boss back so i saw the timestamp***

so at 7:59am i head inside after i finish my smoke and she’s going to have a look where i told her there is free close parking for next time bc she took the train, at 8:04am my boss walks in and goes “WOW IT’S 8:04AM AND SHE’S NOT HERE lmao” (he did not yell it he’s a g - that’s just how i knew what the time was alksjfhg) and i go “no she’s just having a look down [street] bc of the parking i literally saw her a few mins ago” and proceed to open the doors etc. meanwhile i see my boss on the phone calling her, after a moment he comes over with a Whole “i cant fkn believe this” Face on while he’s on the phone. i’m thinking “??? i hope trial girl didn’t get lost in these lil crossover streets damn”

(it’s 8:07am, from now the customers start. they DO NOT STOP until at least 11am, it was at least double the normal turnover of profits during that time so thats ur ref for how BUSY it got)

boss goes “ur not gonna believe this” and show me the mssg from trial girl who basically has said “hi i went to ur shop, and i had a wander around the area and its just not good enough for me so i’m on my way home”. she’s GONE. in those five minutes. she got up, lied to me, and was at the nearby train station leaving. boss is floored and i’m like !>?!??!?!@#!#?who IN THE FK does this?!?!? but the customers so *professional me is present rn*

between her and boss there’s a little back and forth (text, she wont answer any calls) where he literally pleads with her bc there is NO ONE who can come in an assist me and she confirmed yesterday and she WAS HERE, she continues to be like “mmmm well ik that we discussed this and i said that i would be here and its been set for days and i applied LAST WEEK etc. but... no sorry im going back to bed” and then blocks him.

& this whole thing takes place between

7:59AM — 8:07AM.

i was there from 7am - 4:35pm / my usual saturday is 7:45am - 2:30pm

WHO DOES THAT. WHO IS THAT UNPROFESSIONAL. WHO??? WHOMST??? SHE WAS SO FKN RUDE I WAS liVID. LIKE. why LEAD us ALL ON. we all need to make a living do U THINk he can afford to lose a whole day of trade?? he’s got a whole FAmILY and his wife cant work rn bc she’s just had their 3rd child. i live PaYCHECK to PAYcheck. like this is life this isnt a game???? you are 29YRS OLD why cant u act grown

#ooc. out of ink ⋯ skye posts #( this is long bc it's literally my stream of thought and i needed to get it out of my head alkrjhfg )

2 notes · View notes

save-the-spiral · 2 years

Text

Wiztober 2022 Day Eight: Existential

part of maliswap :) ill properly link stuff when its not past my bedtime and i have an 8 hr shift tomorrow so. dedicated to @woop02 ty ty ty for the feedback and likes!!

content warning for child neglect, child abuse, emotional abuse, manipulation, funerals, grief, dead parents and stuff.

(Prompt List) (buy me coffee?) (Maliswap AU Masterpost)

Your father dies and the world ends with him. You hear secondhand news of it and run back home to Wizard City, away from the life you made for yourself in Marleybone.

You return and your mother is nearly catatonic with grief. You speak to your uncle and he hides his own grief with biting words that bring you to tears, embarrassed and ashamed to have even asked, as if you had no right to know how your father died.

At some point you get the message and stop trying to involve yourself in any of it, the funeral planning, the funeral itself, the grief. You don’t speak at the funeral itself, instead just standing there with a trained stoicism so you don’t shatter into a million pieces.

Already you want to go back to your shitty flat in Marleybone, where the water pressure is awful and you scrounge to properly feed yourself but at least you are free and left well enough alone. You forgot how much the ambient magic of Ravenwood grates at your skin, makes it hard to breathe.

You sit in your empty childhood bedroom, waiting for an opportunity to go back home, when your mother finally speaks to you after weeks of nothing.

She offers, yet again, to teach you magic. You nearly dismiss her immediately.

You are not good with magic. You cannot cast spells. Your mana is nonexistent, and so casting magic draws only on your health, breaking your body down in substitute. There is a reason you chose Marleybone, where magic is less common and even frowned upon in some circles, as a home.

Your mother brings you a book, however. It is not Life or Death or even Myth like your family has tried to teach you before. A dark swirling spiral inside of a squared triangle rests in the middle, gleaming mercurial in the light of your lamp. You don’t plan on reading the book, but take it anyway because this is your mother giving it and she is already so fragile with grief and its the first time she’s spoken to you since you moved out of the house nearly five years ago now.

The book sits on your nightstand for only a few hours before you succumb to boredom and curiosity and read it.

And it makes so much sense.

Magic always hurts you, but this magic is made to hurt. It is a balanced trade in exchange for changing something so integral to the fabric of the universe, for bending the light that weaves the celestial schools, for twisting the wizard that is made of the spiritual schools, for the change of the fundamental pieces of the universe that is the elemental schools.

This would be worth it, you think.

It is late enough for your brain to buzz and eyes to ache when you finish reading the book. You did not realize how absorbed you were, how thoroughly you immersed yourself in the new knowledge.

How easy it was to read, for being in a language you don’t know, a language that has been dead for eons.

When you ask your mother about why she gave you the book, she seems to almost smile and its enough for you to not question her vague answer.

The magic of the shadow school is something new, something you can finally handle. You can finally become the wizard your father and mother and uncle wanted you to be, powerful and able to defend yourself. Able to make changes and live as you want.

Your mother gives you advice, tells you to write down your experiences. She gives you exercises to attempt and says they’re a part of standard magical training that you never got after failing to even cast a firecat without coughing up blood as a kid.

This magic, this guidance, it gives you a purpose in the grand scheme of the Spiral. It gives you what you’ve lacked for so long. It gives you so much and you return in kind as one should, as is only polite.

You give so much of yourself away until there is so little left.

Your mother is so proud of you.

#wizard101 #maliswap #wizzy101 #wiztober2022 #wiztober #inktober #inktober2022 #wiz101 #w101 #sylvia drake wizard101 #sylvia drake

4 notes · View notes

and--you-are-weightless · 2 years

Text

8/19/22

okay. i gotta get serious abt losing weight again. like its getting back to the point i feel uncomfortable in some of my clothes again, especially my bras. so im gonna start doing nightly journal entries taking abt what i ate today, any exercise i did, how i felt, and what my plans for the next day are. if i count calories or purge ill put that here too.

ill start them all w the date and tag them all "#shellys day" so u can black list that if u want. i know i havent reblogged pics in a while but ive just been in such an awful binging cycle and also getting most of my th1nspo from insta lately

anyway

today was really bad. i went to work decided on panda express for lunch. i always get kung pao chicken (290), chow mein (510), and some crab rangoons (190), so for lunch i had about 1,000 calories. it wasnt even very good and even tho i was full half way through i ate the whole thing anyway cuz im a disgusting pig. i spend the rest of my shift at work wishing i had got some poke instead so naturally even tho i wasnt hungry i stopped and got poke after work. i have no idea how many calories are in it, i at least get the poke salad option so theres just lettuce instead of rice but it was still way too much and again even tho i was full half way thru i made myself eat the rest. i also got some fried rice balls cuz im a fucking cow and decided to really make myself feel worse than i already did. after i ate i just laid down and kept feeling worse and worse til i went to throw up like maybe an hour or an hour and a half after eating. i still have two rice balls left i really want before i go to bed. i dont have any more easy high calorie foods left in the house other than the cookies my dad made but hopefully hell give those away to friends before i binge on them. im gonna try to do better tomorrow. im gonna go to the gym with my dad in the morning if i can make myself get up in time. im also supposed to see one of my partners tomorrow evening and he always orders taco bell super later at night so i know ill end up eating something there but if i can have a little discipline itll be the only thing i eat tomorrow. then starting saturday night after whatever i eat w my partner im gonna start a 36 hour fast. im gonna allow liquid calories but nothing crazy, just its ok to put a little creamer in my coffee or a spoon of sugar in my tea i mean. if i mess up im gonna restart til i make it thru the fast. once i make it thru im gonna go back on a low-carb diet and focus on protein and veggies again. carbs are always my downfall. once i start on pasta and potatos and bread and sugar i always ruin my diet and start binging on everything. maybe ill make more balerina soup again. idk but im gonna fix this. my current achievable goal is to lose 20 lbs by december. if i can lose about 2 lbs a week i can do that. i just gotta focus and stop binging. i can let myself have a cheat day every now and then when im w my friends or a partner but i have to stop rewarding myself with food and overeating when im depressed.

#shellys day

4 notes · View notes

dockaspbrak · 3 years

Text

its gonna storm all day cursed vibes

#i want to watch miniseries and sleep for 2 days #at least i dont go in tomorrow til 5 #but yikes i dont wanna fucking work #its so many hours in a row a lady can only do so many 8 hour shifts #at least today its like less

2 notes · View notes

winemom-culture · 5 years

Text

I’m pretty sure I did like 9 or 10 blowdries in a 9 hour shift today.. I know I got there at 9am and didn’t sit down or eat until 6pm when I left.. and ALLEGEDLY tomorrow is busier 🤪🤪🤪🤪🤪🤪🤪🤪

#we had at least 85 appointments booked in the morning divided by like 8 stylists so thatd make sense #tomorrow i only work a 6 hour shift so i think its impossible PHYSICALLY for me to do more than like 7 #and theres gonna be more stylists #the two saving graces to my sanity and my right foot which literally hurts to step on #tuesday and wednesday cant come quick enough #hairstylist holidays man #rough

8 notes · View notes

amayaonly1 · 2 years

Text

A Lil’ Oopsie - Lesson 8 (Obey Me x Female!MC/Reader)

@strawberry-moonpies Apologies for the long wait! I've been hanging out with family and friends as much as I could before classes resume from tomorrow onwards. Anyway, here is the long-awaited new chapter where MC finally meets Diavolo and Barbatos. I hope you enjoy it. Take care, stay safe!

Other work: Diavolo's Cousin from Hell

A Lil' Oopsie mini-series:

It's a miracle that the brothers were able to break away from the squabbling that happened half an hour before the expected arrival of the young Prince of Devildom. Although, by the time they'd finally calmed down and just when everything went quiet, the toddler was nowhere to be seen; and so was Asmodeus. They needn't ponder where they'd disappeared to, for they (rather, specifically Mammon and Leviathan) were already pounding their fists on his locked bedroom door.

"Hey, Asmo!" The second born would shout. "Who said you can just take MC away like that thinking we wouldn't notice?!"

"It's not fair!" protested Leviathan. "Among all of us, you're the only one who spends the most time with MC."

Then, the said demon said, "What are you two talking about? Weren't we supposed to help Sheep-chan get ready for Diavolo's arrival? Since the rest of you have been so busy behaving like children to even pay attention to poor little MC, I thought that might as well come in and be her saviour. Anyway, run along now. We're a little busy preparing to look our best."

As if that wasn't enough, his voice softened as he playfully said, "Isn't that right, MC?" To which, the toddler obliviously cooed in response.

Talk about indirectly provoking his own brothers with a toddler who was more interested in talking with her crow plushie.

Mammon was the least pleased, as expected. "Why, you-!"

"Enough." Lucifer's stern, baritone voice intervened. With a phone in his hand, he continued, "Diavolo and Barbatos will arrive any minute now. The least we can do is leave MC to Asmodeus while we wait for them."

Albeit the grumbles, the six of them reluctantly moved to the main hall where they awaited. And true to Lucifer's words, in less than ten minutes, there came the Prince of Devildom.

"MC, I've arrived!" was the first thing Diavolo said as he excitedly entered the House of Lamentation.

"Good morning to you, too, Diavolo." Lucifer greeted nonchalantly as he adorned an indifferent expression. He then looked over to Barbatos who stood near the said demon. "Hello, Barbatos. I see that Diavolo is a little bit too excited compared to usual."

"Hello, Lucifer." The butler greeted back. "It would seem so. I must say, however. It was quite a rare sight for His Highness to wake up earlier than the time I usually enter his room to do so. He must've been excited to meet MC in her current state."

"Why I'm not surprised," muttered the eldest of the house, followed by a sigh.

"Hm?" Diavolo hummed as he looked around. "Where is MC?"

"She's currently with Asmodeus," replied Satan. "She woke up slightly late, so it took a while before he could help her to get ready."

"I see. Well, there's no point in rushing them. Barbatos and I have plenty of time to spare, so we don't mind waiting for MC."

"Why do I feel like it's you who's the eager one?" mumbled Belphegor with a deadpanned expression.

"Alright," came a familiar cheery voice from the staircase. "Here comes our adorable MC!"

At that instant, everyone's attention shifted to the source of Asmodeus's voice. He was standing at the top of the staircase holding MC by his hip. She adorned a short-sleeved maroon ball gown, with its top laced and the bottom donned with chiffon and a matching-lace edge. To complete the look, the toddler was accessorized with a small tiara and maroon ankle-strap flats. The crow plushie in her grasp was also dressed for the occasion; a maroon cape tied around its neck and a smaller tiara clipped to the top of its head.

"Oh," drawled Beelzebub with a smile. "MC looks good in that dress."

"You're late!" sneered Mammon. "What took you so long, Asmo? Diavolo's already here."

"How rude!" scoffed the said demon. "Don't you know the art of painstakingly preparing a beautiful young lady who shalt meet the Prince of Devildom? But then again, this is you we're talking about, so it's understandable that you're ignorant about this."

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

"At least Beel here knows how to compliment a lady," continued the champagne-haired demon. "You can learn so much from our dear younger brother."

"Shaddap!"

Lucifer, however, had had enough. "Mammon!"

The said demon yelped. One could imagine him looking like a puppy with its tail between and ears flattened. The booming voice of his brother had caught him off-guard; but it was more so of the fact that he knew what would happen to him if the eldest was displeased with his behaviour, especially when they're in front of Diavolo.

The demon lord, on the other hand, gleamed with exhilaration as his gaze trailed the toddler who was being carried down the staircase by Asmodeus. The Avatar of Lust then approached Diavolo and gently placed her on the floor before taking a step back.

"I've been waiting for you, MC."

MC's attention immediately diverted to the tall demon standing before her. But the dramatic height difference forced her to crane her neck, trying to get a glimpse of his face. She stayed in that position in silence for a few moments, and much to everyone's surprise, MC turned around and went behind Asmodeus, peering from his leg while her free hand tugged his trousers.

"MC?" Even the fifth born was taken aback by her odd behaviour.

"That's strange," commented Satan, placing a finger on his chin to ponder. "She's never behaved like this towards Beelzebub and Lucifer, given that they and Lord Diavolo are about the same height."

"Do you think it's because Lord Diavolo wasn't around when she transformed into her current state?" presumed Leviathan. "Like, compared to us and Solomon who was there during the transformation, she might think that Lord Diavolo is a stranger."

"That might be a possibility," said Lucifer, crossing his arms as he, too, was baffled by this.

"My Lord," called Barbatos. "Perhaps you ought to kneel down when you wish to speak to MC. From my understanding, it has been proven that human children tend to be intimidated by tall adults due to their lack of exposure to enough tall people in their lives. Their knowledge of tall people is typically acquired from human storybooks that depict tall characters as villains. Given your stature and judging by how MC was craning her neck all the way to look at you, I'm afraid that you might have unintentionally scared MC."

"Eh?" The red-haired demon was tremendously surprised by this revelation. "Is that so?"

"Now that Barbatos mentioned it," chimed Belphegor. "Beel and Lucifer knelt down when they first spoke to MC just after the toddlerisation. Maybe that's why she was comfortable with them despite their heights."

"I see. If that's the case, then maybe I should give it a shot. I wouldn't want to make MC uncomfortable, even if her current state is temporary."

Diavolo, being very mindful of his footsteps, approached Asmodeus, standing a good foot away before he got on his knees. The toddler was finally able to get a look at his face, but that wasn't enough to persuade her to move from her spot.

"MC," he called in a gentle tone. "It's okay. I know I look scary, but I promise I won't harm you."

But after staring at his face, MC merely hid behind Asmodeus's leg more.

The poor demon lord looked up at the rest of the concerned demons with a sheepish smile. "Did I do something wrong here?" he asked hesitantly.

"Nah," assured Mammon. "Maybe MC's just shy. I know she ain't scared of nothin'."

Asmodeus was silent momentarily, before he pointed out, "Come to think of it, the more I looked at MC, I can't help but notice how red her face is."

Lucifer was immediately alarmed. "Is she sick?" he asked, worry lacing his tone.

"That's not good," muttered the concerned Leviathan. The thought of his Henry being so frail and vulnerable because of a mere virus was like ice picking on his heart. What's worse, children aren't as strong as grownups, so that makes it worse tenfolds. What was he going to do?

"No, wait." Satan suddenly intervened. "I don't think that flush is a sign of a fever."

"Yeah." Asmodeus agreed. "And the signs that I'm getting from her feel familiar." Suddenly, it was as if a light bulb went off inside his mind. "Ooh! I know! MC has fallen in love with Lord Diavolo~!"

"HUH?!" yelled Mammon and Leviathan in unison. With the exception of the Avatar of Lust, the rest of the demon brothers were just as stupefied.

It was then Barbatos's turn to place a finger on his chin. "Now that I think about it," he said. "There's a statement that said human children tend to hide behind a parent or hide their faces when they're shy. So in MC's case, hiding is more of a sign of shyness as a result of an infatuation or admiration."

"I see!" chirped the surprised Prince, who was looking at his butler over his shoulder before he turned to grin at the toddler. "I'm honestly impressed. I didn't think that I would learn so many things just from interacting with you. You never cease to amaze me, MC."

To think that a soft coo that was then followed by the girl shoving her face into Asmodeus's leg could trigger another havoc on that same morning. Lucifer could only hope that the cause of his extra migraines would come to cease as soon as possible.

RING!

Rummaging his RAD uniform blazer pocket, he whipped out his phone and glanced at the ID, eventually answering the call.

"Yes, Solomon?"

#obey me #obey me fluff #obey me fanfiction #obey me x mc #obey me x reader

88 notes · View notes

kohanayaki · 3 years

Text

.:Time and Time Again:. (Marauders Era x Reader) Ch 5

Harry confronts you with a familiar piece of suspiciously folded parchment, and you tell him the story of how you helped create it (mostly told through flashbacks taking place in the Marauders era).

LINKS: CH 1 CH 2 CH 3 CH 4 CH 5 CH 6 CH 7 CH 8

___________________________________________________________

Ch 5 .:Narrow Spaces and New Alliances:.

Your eyes drifted open slowly, the bright streams of sunlight coming in through your window strangely unbecoming of 12 Grimmauld Place. It took you a moment to get your bearings as you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes and remembered where you were. As you sat there, looking around Sirius' guest bedroom, last night's events all seemed to flood back to you at once. You groaned into the comforter, feeling your face burn as you recalled blatantly staring at his lips just minutes after crying into his shirt for at least half an hour.

Come on, get it together, you thought to yourself, you're here because Dumbledore summoned you, stay on task.

However, as soon as that memory left your head another replaced it, this one weighing heavier on your chest. You found yourself thinking back to your encounter with Severus. Well, as much as you could call it an 'encounter.' Even when you couldn't see him, you could feel him when you reached out to him with your mind. Severus was good at blocking legillemency— too good, in fact, because you would know the familiar force of his mental shield anywhere. You'd never felt it as powerful coming from anyone else. You almost laughed at the irony of it; the very thing he was trying to use to keep hidden was exactly what had given him away. That, and the smell of him, which took you back to the moment you'd first smelled that damn amortentia potion. . .

You tried to shake off the thought as you properly got out of bed and changed into some casual clothes. The next Order meeting wasn't until tomorrow afternoon, so you had the day mostly to yourself, but you knew the next time you were all in a room together you would have to address some things privately if you had any hope of working together efficiently. You gently padded down the wooden stairs, the door to Sirius' room still closed. He never was an early riser.

As you reached the kitchen you began to put a pot of coffee on when you heard someone approach the room, stalling in the kitchen entrance. You turned around to see Harry in the doorway.

“Morning,” you grinned, turning back to the counter and using your wand to bring some water to a boil, “Coffee? Tea?”

“Oh,” Harry said, a bit embarrassed you'd caught him in mid-thought, “no, I'm okay.”

“What's on your mind?” you asked.

“Um, I was wondering if you could tell me, I mean, if you have the time. . .” he trailed off, reaching for his back pocket, “well, the thing is, a few years ago I found—”

“Kreacher heard sounds coming from the kitchen and did not expect (Y/n)'s return,” Harry jumped at the house elf's sudden arrival, but you seemed unphased.

“Though master's half mudblood godson remains here,” the elf muttered to himself, “How many more days must it be?”

“Hello, Kreacher,” you greeted him, “nothing nasty about Harry, now, alright? Don't forget he's my godson too.”

“Of course,” Kreacher said, thickly sarcastic but with respect for you in his tone nonetheless. His permanent frown seemed to deepen, however, when he saw you next to the coffee maker. “(Y/n) of house (L/n) should not have to be using the kitchen. Mistress Black would have wept to see a pureblood use muggle equipment. If (Y/n) requires refreshment Kreacher will have it ready.”

“There's no need for that,” you said, “Besides, it's done already, see? You can go on now.”

Kreacher squinted at the cup you poured for yourself. “Always peculiar,” he grumbled, stalking away at your request and muttering to himself all the while.

“He's oddly. . . nice to you,” Harry said, green eyes quizzical behind his round-framed glasses.

“He is,” you chuckled.

“But, well, you're—”

“A blood traitor?” you gave him an easy smile when you saw his expression, easing his fears that he'd actually offended you. “I know,” you said, “he's been through a lot, it's complicated. Trust me, he wasn't always like this to me. It takes time. And it doesn't hurt to be nice to him either.”

Harry decided against bringing up that the nicest person that he knew to the house elf was Hermione, who Kreacher regularly called a 'mudblood wench,' but decided to focus on the 'taking time' part of your statement, wondering just how long this kind of progress took with the spiteful elf. Besides, you seemed to have some sort of history with him.

“Anyways, what was it you were saying?” you asked Harry.

“Oh, right,” he said, reaching back around him, “um, my friends Fred and George, you've met them?”

“Molly and Arthur's twins, of course,” you smiled, “little imps, they are. Those two could give your father and Sirius a run for their money.”

“Right!” Harry said, “well, that's sort of the point. They're the ones who gave me this.”

As you turned around to face him you stalled mid-stir, nearly dropping your mug as you did. Even as a piece of blank parchment you knew what it was, the distinctive accordion folds that met in the center giving it away.

“How in the world. . .” you trailed off as Harry handed it to you, “but Filch—”

“Didn't do a very good job of hiding it, apparently,” Harry finished, “I thought you might want to do the honors?”

You nodded wordlessly, a pang of unexpected emotion hitting you as you pressed your wand to the map's center.

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

The faded, brown ink showed itself as its protection charm was washed away, revealing the nostalgia-inducing inscription scrawled in your respective handwritings:

Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, Prongs, and Fangs are proud to present: The Marauders Map

“Do Remus and Sirius know you have this?” you asked Harry, who nodded.

“Professor Lupin gave it back to me third year before he left Hogwarts,” he said, “but he never told me anything about it after that.” he seemed deep in thought for a moment before looking up at you. “If everyone else is who I think it is, you're Fangs, right?”

It was your turn to nod now.

“I always wondered, how did you do it?” Harry said, hardly containing his curiosity, and you couldn't help but think how much he looked like James in that moment. “How does it work? What sort of magic did you use? All the secret passageways, how did you find them?”

“Alright, slow down,” you laughed lightly, giving in, “I suppose there's no harm in telling you.”

Harry brightened at that, bounding into the living room and taking a seat on the couch as if to say 'we've got all day,' which you did. It warmed your heart to see him so excited, this was one of the only ways he could get to know his parents— through the stories that remained from the people who loved them. If you could help the picture of his family in his mind become a bit clearer, you would tell him any story he wanted to know. He deserved that much after everything he'd been through.

You took a seat opposite him, still nursing your cup of coffee.

“Well,” you said, “it's a long story, starting with how bad those lot were at keeping secrets. . .”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 1974 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Run!” James half shouted half laughed as Filch hobbled after the four of them. Sirius nearly bit his tongue trying to keep in his laughter as the Caretaker slung insults and promises of punishment their way, cat ears and a tail freshly sprouted from his body.

“I can't believe we actually did that,” Sirius cackled, keeping easy pace with James.

“I can't believe you dragged me into this,” Remus panted, his current body not lending itself well to physical activity. For once he actually wished he was a werewolf right about now.

“I don't know if I can keep up,” Peter wheezed, falling behind.

“Oh come on,” James said, grabbing his sleeve and helping him run, “we can out run a gummy-legged old prat like him.”

“I don't know, he's faster than he looks,” Remus pointed out as Filch rounded the corner behind them.

“Damn,” James cursed under his breath, “we'll lose him if we can make it to the one-eyed-witch passageway.”

“We'll never activate it in time,” Remus countered.

“The hallway behind the third floor tapestry?” Peter suggested.

“No, Filch knows about that one now,” Sirius said.

“Why the hell didn't you bring your cloak?” Remus huffed.

“Well getting caught wasn't supposed to be part of the plan, but someone had to let out a laugh before we could get out!”

“Just save your air and sprint!” Sirius hissed.

The extended run time was starting to catch up to all of them now, and when they'd made a wrong turn to a blocked off corridor they thought they were done for.

“Hey, morons, over here!”

Four heads snapped towards the sound of your whisper, but you were nowhere to be found. Suddenly, one of the light pillars began to shift, revealing a large crack in the wall just big enough for them to fit sideways.

No questions were asked with no time to waste, and the four boys clamored after one another so they could fit inside. Your magic moved the pillar back in place just in time, and you watched from your hiding spot as Filch reached the walled-off passage in surprise, grumbling as he looked around for the culprits behind you. You had to stifle a snicker as his cat ears lowered; was that growling coming from the back of this throat or did you imagine that? Eventually he stumbled off in frustration and you sighed.

“Alright, the coast is clear,” you said.

“Why did you help us?” James rose a brow, that signature shit-eating grin back on his face like it never left, “you haven't fallen in love with me since our truce, have you?”

“Dream on, Potter,” you rolled your eyes, pushing him out of the crevice and smirking as he tumbled to the floor.

“It seems like I'm always saving you nowadays,” you said, stepping out of the wall yourself with the rest of the boys following.

Remus was thoroughly confused, looking pointedly between you and Sirius. He knew you and James were pretty much friends now, but he also noticed that the hostile air that always seemed to be present with you and the elder Black had diminished. He'd even seen you two talking in the halls lately. Sirius gave him a look; he would explain what happened in the forest with Lucius to Remus later. Mostly he didn't want to admit that Remus was right about you not being so bad if he gave you a chance; you had actually been getting on pretty well since that night.

“You do realize it's no fun winning the house cup when you four practically make Gryffindor ineligible every year with all the shit you get up to, right?” you chuckled, “some competition would be nice for a change.”

“We'll see if you're singing the same tune when Quidditch season rolls around,” James said smugly.

“You're right,” you said, squaring up against him, “guess that's a new competition we've got going for us.”

It had recently been announced that you and James had both been selected to play Seeker for your respective houses next year. It was an arrangement that had the whole school talking, your rivalry turned (mostly) friendship now infamous, even if it was a recent occurrence.

“Hold on, how did you know that was there?” Peter asked you, pointing to the moving column, “even we didn't know about it.”

“Oh?” you crossed your arms, “and are you four supposedly some kind of all-knowing secret masters? Because clearly there's things you don't know about yet.”

Sirius slapped a hand over Peter's mouth before he could retaliate and give away what they've been working on.

“Yes, well, apparently,” he said, ignoring Peter's muffled protests.

You looked at them curiously, all four boys looking suspiciously nervous.

The next day at breakfast, James had brought up the idea of 'hiring' you to help them finish the map.

“I'm telling you, I think we can really make progress with their help,” he pitched, “they clearly know what they're talking about, and we know they can pull a hell of a prank from all the times they've gotten me.”

“How do we know they won't tell anyone?” Peter countered, “I don't know what's up with you, but you're trusting them too fast, James.”

“They're not the type that would tell,” Remus admitted.

“Oh, not you too!” Peter whined.

“I'm just saying, they'll likely appreciate what we've gathered so far and have a fair bit to add,” Lupin insisted, “it could be worth a try if you really want to finish it before we graduate—”

“Finish what?”

The four boys jolted upright, turning to see you and Lily.

“Are you guys okay?” Lily asked, concern written across her features.

“Of course!”

“Never better!”

“Why wouldn't we be?”

Remus just groaned at his friends' panicked answers. This was hopeless.

You and Lily shared a knowing look off the the side.

“Alright, whatever you say. . .”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry laughed heartily,

“Wow, I mean, I know you said they were bad, but that bad?”

“For being expert pranksters who hardly ever managed to get caught, they were remarkably terrible at hiding things,” you said, chuckling along with him, “It didn't take us long to figure out they were up to something, although they seemed to think they were brilliant at covering it up, Remus had to burst their bubble eventually.”

Harry shook his head, smiling fondly and imagining all the scenes in his head as you continued your tale.

“So that was when they were first starting to put the map together,” you continued, “but that wasn't even the biggest secret they were hiding. Of course, I wouldn't find out about that for another year, but we'll get to that part of the story later. . .”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 1975 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“This tastes awful,” Sirius complained, trying to ignore the plant prodding the under-side of his tongue.

“Well if you were expecting treacle toffee I'm sorry to disappoint,” James rolled his eyes, equally nauseated by the bitter tinge of the Mandrake leaf in his mouth.

“There's no way someone can do this for an entire month,” Peter said, “How do you brush your teeth? What if you accidentally swallow it when you're eating?”

“You three have fun with that,” Remus chuckled, flipping through an old library book and his mouth gratefully leafless.

“How about some gratitude, Moony?” James said, “We're doing this for you.”

“Please, you just want to see if you can turn into a dragon or something,” Lupin chortled, “and you don't actually have to go through with all this. Who knows if this animagus stuff will actually work.”

“Well, a dragon would suit me,” James mused, “but of course we're going to see this through, mate. You know we'd do anything for you.”

Remus smiled to himself, not responding and not needing to. He knew.

“Hey guys,” you grinned, walking up to the Gryffindor table.

Peter gulped suddenly in surprise as you came up behind him, and his eyes widened in horror.

“Shit!” he coughed out, “I-I swallowed it!”

“Your. . . food?” you questioned, glancing over at the boys who all had that same, vaguely panicked look about them.

“Okay, it was funny at first, but you guys have been acting weird since last year and now it's worrying,” you admitted.

The four looked between themselves and came to a sort of silent conclusion. Maybe in this scenario it was better to tell one secret to keep the other. And so, later that night, they told you to meet them after lights out so they could tell you what was really going on. You snuck out of your dorm room and made your way through the secret tunnel to the Gryffindor common room, a route you'd taken plenty of times to mess with James.

You pushed a loose panel of wood open, coming into the warmly lit space through one of the cabinets. You pushed an armchair that was half blocking your path out of the way as you crawled through the space.

“Blimey!” Sirius jumped, “give us a heads up, would you?”

“Sush,” Remus scolded him, “you really don't understand the concept of an inside voice, do you?”

“Alright, well I'm here,” you said, brushing off your robes, “now what's this big secret? This better not be a trick because I've been working on a new hex.”

“Nothing like that,” James assured you, “we've been working on something we think you might be interested in, if you're willing to contribute.”

He stepped to the side so you could see the floor where they'd been huddled around and your eyes widened.

“Merlin,” you said. The red and gold carpet was covered in at least forty different pieces of parchment. Pages upon pages overlapped with each other, each messily detailing a different part and level of the castle in scribbles of smudged ink. “This is. . .”

“The entirety of the Hogwarts castle and surrounding land,” Sirius said proudly, “complete with secret passageways.”

“This is our lives' work, (Y/n),” James said, “be impressed!”

“What impresses me most is how none of you have any sense of scale,” you said, sifting through the papers, “you should really condense this. Kind of hard to make any use of a map if you have to flip to page thirty-three to find the kitchens.”

“Point taken,” Remus said, “it could do with some reorganization.”

“And probably a bigger piece of paper,” you mentioned.

“Right, that. . .”

“That's not all there is to it, though,” Peter said, “Sirius?”

The curly haired boy stepped forward, pressing his wand to the center of the floor.

“Revelare Popularis,”

You watched in wonder as hundreds of names suddenly appeared across the pieces of paper, all students and faculty you recognized. They were scrawled in Sirius' handwriting, as if he'd written them himself.

“This spell shows where everyone in any location on this map is at this very moment,” he said, “It's not exact, and we've been working on variations.”

“So you can plan ahead without getting caught,” you mused, “how'd you learn something as advanced as this, Black?”

“I get around,” Sirius shrugged, unabashedly showing off. Peter rolled his eyes.

“So, the only drawback, of course, is that the spell doesn't work in real time,” Remus said, “so by the time you get where you need to go. . .”

“People will have moved,” James finished, “we're willing to share this little trove of knowledge with you if you're willing to give up all the secret rooms, passages, and hiding places you know.”

“And we thought you may have a solution to our timing problem,” Remus said, “I could tell from our study sessions you quite enjoy learning ahead of your year.”

Your eyes scanned the pages, and you were admittedly impressed. There was ton of stuff on here you had no idea about, but you knew a fair amount was missing as well. It seemed like a fair trade.

“I'm in,” you said.

“What?” Peter blinked, “it was that easy?”

“This is a useful tool you've got,” you said, “I think we can all benefit from it being improved. And now that you mention it, I actually do think I've read about a similar spell to that paper charm. It was in some Gaelic tome in the restricted section on ancient magic. I'm not even sure it used a wand. It was called the Homunculus charm. From what I read it sounded like it acted as a live feed for people in any given location, clan leaders used it to plan ambushes and keep track of citizens. If we could link it to the entire castle. . .”

“We'd be able to see where everyone is—”

“And what they're doing—”

“—At every hour of every day!”

“True, albeit a bit stalkerish,” you quipped, “you let me in on this if I add in what I know, and you got yourself a deal.”

James put out his hand, and as tempted as you were to turn it green or make all the bones in it disappear, you reached out and shook it.

“I do believe this puts us in a formal alliance, Potter,” you said cheekily.

“I believe so,” James smirked.

“Terrifying,” Remus chuckled, “This school won't even know what hit it.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?” James said with a cheshire grin, “let's steal ourselves a book, shall we?”

Read chapter 6 here!

Taglist: @sleep-i-ness, @blackpinkdolan, @parker-natasha, @ornella0910 @undertaker1827 @thatwierdo-koemi @nxstalgicnxbxdy @calaryssia @aleksanderwh0r3 @mialupin1

145 notes · View notes

too-gay-for-marvel · 3 years

Text

just this once pt.3

a/n: i know im technically a day late, but we stopped very late. but its here! and its gonna be a decent amount of parts, so be prepared, besties

Word Count: 2,439

Warnings: smut implications

Pairing: Natasha x Reader

(pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4 pt.5 pt.6.1 pt.6.2 pt.6.3 pt.7 pt.8)

Natasha had to admit, she hated how understanding Maria was. She had gone home and told Maria what you had said, expecting to become single almost as soon as she had finished talking. But no, Natasha had finished her rant, and Maria had taken a deep breath before saying “I’m sorry,” and dragging her into a hug.

She would’ve handled a “we’re over” much better.

But it helped ease some of the guilt that she was carrying around with her. It lifted some of the weight that had been keeping her head down and feet dragging. And with Maria being the most understanding person in the world, now she could live her life. Did she forgive herself? Fuck no, but at least she could move on with Maria.

It helped that you kept to what she had told you.

In the months after learning the truth, she never saw you. Her feet never took her to your suite, her thoughts never trailed to that night. Well. Not during the day. She… didn’t want to talk about the dreams.

Natasha was able to go a solid month without seeing you, and even though the back of her mind kept telling her to talk to you, she had stayed away. She had kept to her “honey do” list, went on her missions, and just lived her life.

Until Fury stuck his nose where it didn’t belong.

“You two have a mission.”

Natasha looked over to where you were standing, over in the corner as far away from her as you could be. Your eyes were down, only occasionally darting up to look at Fury when he was talking. She could see the fins on your arm flare out a bit before relaxing again, along with the slight twitch of your gills.

“Can this mission not be done with one person?” Natasha asked, her eyes still locked on you; you shifted your weight from one foot to the other.

“It requires stealth and…” Fury looked over at you and sighed. “Gills.”

“And here I thought you kept me around for my good looks,” you teased with an upturn of the corner of your mouth.

“When do you need us?” Natasha asked, and your half smile fell as quickly as it had appeared.

“You leave bright and early, 0400.”

With that, Fury left the room, leaving you and her alone. She took note of your fins staying flared, and took that as her sign to leave. Your feet shuffled, and she moved slower just in case, but you never reached out to her. That was all Natasha needed to head back to her room to prepare for tomorrow.

Tomorrow came far too soon, and it felt like only moments later that Natasha was standing in the hangar, watching you prep your gear.

Incorrectly.

“Your holster’s backwards,” Natasha pointed out.

“It is not, I’m testing something out,” you shot back without looking up.

“Whatever you put in there is going to fall out,” she continued.

You ignored her, but tried to turn it around without her noticing. She did. A silence fell over the both of you as you continued to get ready. Natasha had already gotten all of her stuff, but you continued to move around. You grabbed your belt and a harpoon, all of them quickly attached at your hips.

You maintained your relentless pace, her face pressed against the wall as you held your hand to the back of her neck. She felt you thrusting into her, most likely leaving a bruise on her ass and hips, but all she knew was that it felt so good she could only think of one thing-

Natasha turned her head away, a slight blush dusting her cheeks. If anyone noticed, they didn’t say. She refused to look at you until you stood up straight, geared up and ready to go. Your suit told her that there was going to be some sort of underwater aspect, and that gave her a bit of insight as to what was expected of the both of you.

The quinjet ride was awkward, to say the least. You stayed in the back while Natasha flew. She was thankful that you were keeping your distance. If you had been close, it was very possible that Natasha would have lost her damn mind.

Your suit always did do something to her.

You hadn't even bothered to take your pants off; just pulled them down far enough for you to get your strap out. Her fingers scrambled to grab purchase of something, anything, but your suit was still wet from the mission. Almost as wet as she was.

Natasha shook her head, trying to physically remove the memories. She was going to kill Nick when she got back.

She needed to focus on the mission. There was no need for it to be anything other than a mission. Get in, map out the building, get out. You would cover the lower levels, she would cover the upper, it shouldn't take more than an hour.

It was a slow descent to the checkpoint, but easy enough. You spent the last few minutes braiding your hair, keeping it out of the way and showing off the shaved part of your head. Natasha remembered teaching you how to tie those braids.

Once the quinjet was landed and you were both on solid ground, it was straight to business.

"Once you get back to solid ground, your pants and gear should be in a backpack marked on your locator," Natasha said.

"We'll meet up in the eastern stairwell," you continued, not even skipping a beat. It was like nothing had ever happened.

"Comms on?"

"Gonna miss me?" You asked, cocky as ever, but you turned the comm on anyway.

"Just get moving," Natasha huffed with a roll of her eyes. "The sooner we get in, the sooner we're done."

"See you in a minute," you winked and mock-saluted before jumping down into the hole that would be your entrance.

It's what she hated about you; how you could so easily act like nothing had ever happened.

Natasha closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Just one. Then it was time to get moving. She finished pulling her cap down, mostly covering the top half of her face before finishing the walk to the guarded entrance

She flashed a badge and they let her in without a word. One of her easier infiltrations, if she were being honest. Just went to prove that as long as she acted like she belonged, no one would question her. It was easier to blend in if you acted like there was no need for it.

Starting from the top, Natasha made her way down the building, mapping corridors, potential hidden rooms, rooms of interest. By the time she made it to your meeting point, she had marked more than enough information to assist in future missions.

All she needed was your half and she could go home.

The door to the stairwell was thrown open, slamming against the wall and causing Natasha to flinch ever so slightly. You were still soaking wet, trailing water behind you, and you didn't have your gear. In fact, you didn't have anything.

"What happened?" Natasha asked. But the sound of an alarm being set off was answer enough.

"It wasn't me," you stated simply.

Yelling echoed in the corridor behind you, and you gave Natasha A Look. That was all she needed before you both took off running down the stairs, skipping three or four at a time. She heard a *squeak* and turned around just in time to see you fall flat on your ass with a loud grunt.

“Get up,” Natasha groaned.

She didn’t wait for you to get up on your own, instead decided to grab your arm and yank you up. Except for the fact that she had forgotten how wet you were, and how slippery your skin could get, and you ended up falling back onto your ass a second time.

“Some help you are,” you growled as you managed to push yourself back up onto your feet.

“If you weren’t such a freak, this wouldn’t even be a problem,” Natasha shot back.

You both continued running, finally reaching the bottom floor just in time to hear echoed footsteps a few floors above you. Natasha opened the door and pushed you in, quick to follow after. She shut the door and grabbed the extra harpoon bolt from your hip, shoving it between the door and the wall while you protested.

“Get going,” she said as she continued to push you forward, looking for a way out.

“We could always go through the sewers,” you suggested with a shrug when you both came to a halt in an intersection that you swore you hadn’t seen yet.

“I’m not escaping in a fucking sewer,”Natasha shot at you. “You were supposed to find us a way out.”

“It’s not my fault someone ratted us out! I don’t like being stuck with you either!” You shouted back.

“Oh sure, after all of that bullshit a few months ago, now you don’t want to get stuck with me?”

“Listen, I said I was-”

“They’re around the corner!” A voice shouted. You and Natasha shared a look, and Natasha managed to pull you into a closet just in time for footsteps to be heard coming in your direction.

“We should’ve taken the sewer,” you whisper-yelled as Natasha tried to ignore how close to you she was.

If you two had been any closer, you would’ve been inside each other, and not in the enjoyable way. Natasha’s arms were pinned in between the both of you, and she could feel your ribs under her fingers. Her ear was pressed to your body; she could hear your irregular, three-pump heartbeat loud and clear. There used to be a time she would have enjoyed being so close.

You were both silent as you waited for the footsteps and yelling to die down. Even when they had faded, you stayed still, hoping that they wouldn’t open the closet as a last resort. Your body heat was comforting, and Natasha almost found herself forgetting the danger that was just around the corner. But then you gave an awkward cough and shifted, and Natasha was brought back to the fact that this wasn’t supposed to be enjoyable.

“I think we’re safe,” Natasha mumbled.

“Let’s get out of here,” you agreed as you cleared your throat again, still incredibly uncomfortable.

You reached around her and opened the door, the both of you practically falling out of the closet. When Natasha stood up straight again, she brushed the nonexistent dirt from her suit and avoided your gaze at all costs. Only when she had regained her composure did she turn to you again.

“You mentioned a sewer?” Natasha asked, completely defeated.

You nodded and started running in the opposite direction of the yelling, leading her down corridors until you both reached a manhole cover. Natasha could smell the sewage without opening it, and she could only imagine how terrible it would be once she jumped in. But there didn’t really seem to be any other option, and you were already prying it open just enough for them to slip in.

“Ladies first,” you gestured.

“Gee, thanks,” Natasha groaned as she took her last breath of semi-pure air and jumped in.

The stench was worse than anything Natasha had ever smelled before. All the death and ruin she had witnessed, and she still believed that this was worse. She couldn’t even attempt to guess at what was causing the smell, but she didn’t think she wanted to know. Maybe it would be a little more tolerable if she just pretended it was nothing.

You jumped in after her and pulled the manhole back into place, and just like that, it was like neither of you had ever been there. You didn’t wait for her as you started making your way out of the building, and Natasha quickly followed suit. She didn’t understand how you could breathe the air like it was nothing, but maybe it was part of your physiology. Maybe you were just lucky.

It felt like an eternity before you both ran into a ladder that would take you out of the sewer. You yanked the manhole cover aside and Natasha went up first, gasping when she smelled the fresh air. It was like being reborn, she thought. Her cells felt rejuvenated and her skin felt cleaner.

As soon as you pulled the cover back on, you both ran back to the quinjet as fast as you could. The stench of sewage followed you, stuck to your clothes; they would probably be incinerated when you got back to the tower. But you were out, and you could head back with enough confidence to tell Nick that you had at least gotten half of the building mapped out.

“You fly, I think I’m drying out,” you groaned. Natasha didn’t argue.

She sat in the pilot’s seat and set a course for the tower, wanting nothing more than a hot shower and a good sleep. But she looked back in time to see you stripping your suit off, groaning as it literally peeled off. Inch by inch, she saw your shoulders, your spines, your back, those abs.

You were never one to let anyone see you undressed, but Natasha loved that she was allowed. The way you shifted and twitched when her fingers ran over your skin, when you whined if she kissed that spot on your back. Loved the feel of your abs flexing as you thrusted into her at an inhuman pace that had her moaning and cumming for hours and-

“Nat, pull up!”

Natasha felt your hands covering hers, yanking up, and the real world unfolded before her eyes. The ground was quickly approaching, and the sound of the air rushing past the quinjet was enough to make Natasha’s hands shake. Only when the jet was back up and on course did she start to settle.

“Are you trying to get us killed?” You shouted, but Natasha just turned back to the front, trying her hardest to ignore the stinging in her eyes.

You grumbled and walked off, and Natasha could feel the frustration radiating off of you. But she didn’t really care anymore. She had nearly gotten you both killed because she had been too busy remembering you railing her. Natasha couldn’t do this anymore, couldn’t be around you anymore.

Not if she wanted to stay alive.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #black widow x reader #marvel #my writing

267 notes · View notes

jamilelucato · 3 years

Text

Mine [F.W.]

pairing: Fred Weasley x reader;

summary: Fred suggests the unmissable proposal to pretend to be dating, but will it work?

warnings: fluffy but i know you all love it;

a/n: forgot to mention but the reader can be from any house (if you are one to believe that students from different houses can stay in other common rooms); again, this is for the A Very Harry Potter Christmas (day 8) with @whack-ed

Harry Potter Masterlist || Musical Hogwarts Series

When Fred came to you, three weeks ago, asking for your help, you said yes, because, frankly, it was pretty nice being the one the twins trusted to teach them new rare spells and charms.

However, three weeks ago, Fred didn’t ask for your help with spellcasting. He asked you to date him.

Okay, okay, fake date him. But still dating, so it was a surprise. You gasped for air, unsure of what to say next, unsure of how to continue. You stared at him, involuntarily tilting your head.

And you said yes. Honestly, you didn’t regret it — yet. Fred explained how you two would proceed, and your part came across pretty easy.

You had to smile at him during classes, and toss him notes. He was going to spend more time around you in the library, and you would join him in his and his twin’s pranks. Again, pretty simple stuff.

“And nobody can know?” your whispered echoed in the dark abandoned corridor.

Fred held his wand which had its tip light with Lumos closer to your face. He wanted to be sure you wouldn’t tell anyone about it.

“No one. Not even George,” he whispered back, hoping to sound serious. “That one can’t keep a secret, I’ll tell you that. And he’ll tell her.”

“Her?” you asked before you could hold yourself. When Fred and George asked for your help, and you agreed, you couldn’t ask questions. That was their primary rule, but you were so curious...

“Angelina,” he said her name in a tender whisper and part of you felt jealous. Not of Fred — Godric, no — but of the fact that Angelina had someone like her. And nobody liked you in, what? Forever?

“Is this all for her?” you asked politely, moving your own wand towards the two of you, who, now thinking, were closer than needed in the dim passageway.

Fred gulped. Yeah, he fancied Angelina. George knew. Now, you knew too. But he didn’t like to say it, and he hated when people mentioned, particular because she didn’t like him back.

“So when do we start?” you asked after a moment in silence after Fred refused to confirm he liked the Gryffindor chaser.

Fred’s head rested over your lap while you carelessly ran your fingers through his ginger locks, in one of the opaquest couches available in Gryffindor’s common room.

It wasn’t the first time you two could be found in this position. Although you generally preferred to be the one laying down — you loved when people in general played with your hair —; when Fred walked in you were already sitting, so he was left to be the one to lie down.

Three weeks of fake-dating had gone by, and you couldn’t believe it. At first, the days seemed to be going down slowly, as you had to force interactions with the twin. But after the end of the first week, when Fred met you with the offer to walk around the school holding your hand, the relationship came to be easier to tolerate and the days started going by really fast.

Fake-dating Fred was effortless because Fred was a good friend. That wasn’t much of a surprise — you knew Mrs Weasley had raised her children well — but the fact that he was an exceptional joker and a funny chap was a bonus you weren’t expecting.

He would’ve been a nice first boyfriend if he had been in fact your first boyfriend.

Thankfully, people were buying the relationship with no problem — you even heard Ginny saying it was inevitable. You two didn’t even need to kiss in front of the students for them to believe. Well, you did have to endure some physical contact (like what you were doing right now with his head over your lap), but that was surprisingly rather enjoyable.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Fred asked all of the sudden after Godric knew how long you two had stayed cosy in front of the fire.

“I’m going to Hogsmeade to buy some Christmas presents,” you answered, looking down to meet his gaze. He seemed peaceful and calm when he had your fingers intertwined in his hair. “Wanna come?” you invited him to enjoy your little trip — a corner of your mind remembering that he was allegedly your boyfriend; therefore, he should escort you.

“Sure,” he smiled, but you were almost sure that it was because you moved your fingers and not because he was much excited to Hogsmeade. “Have to buy some myself.”

George spotted you two in the couch, comfortable together — as he was already used to finding you two — and he joined in the conversation.

“Plans for tomorrow?” he asked, sitting down in the sofa next to your left.

“Hogsmeade,” was Fred’s simple reply. You found it super cool how he didn’t even need to get up to know the voice belonged to his twin.

That was another thing being in a sham relationship with Fred made you improve: differentiating Fred from George. Not that three weeks earlier, you were terrible, but you were undoubtedly not the best one for the job. Now, you had no problem at all.

“Oh, perhaps I’ll see you two around,” George smiled, his eyes meeting yours. You smiled back at him, pleased to know that he still liked you even though you supposedly had his twin’s tongue in your mouth often. George didn’t know the truth, obviously, but even so... You wondered how long would take the twin to found out Fred was lying about his love life. “I have a date,” added George, noticing that he should elaborate.

“Wow, Georgie, how nice!” you kept your smile, this time only shaking your head positively so he could know you were genuinely happy.

Fred seemed delighted too, stretching his neck over your lap for just an opportunity to see his twin without having to get up.

“Good luck,” wished Fred. “Although she can’t be pretty as my girl, I hope yours is at least cute.”

You looked down at Fred, meeting his gaze before nudging his head slightly out of your lap. If you two were indeed dating, instead of pushing, you would’ve kissed him — and, oh, the urge to do so was strong, but you reminded yourself that he was just following his act.

George watched your interaction with joy in his eyes. He was happy for his brother for finally finding someone to utterly understand him — and he had other reasons too, but they didn’t matter now.

“You two are so cute, ” George said, before getting up. Fred hadn’t even noticed that his twin was still there — so much he was distracted with your attempt of being embarrassed. Deep down, Fred was acknowledging that more than often, you were managing to truly distract him from his surroundings.

“I’ll leave you two with some privacy,” said George before finally leaving.

You and Fred exchanged looks again, and then both burst into laughter, not believing George honestly had let that out.

“He seems more romantic,” you pointed out, starting to play with Fred’s hair again.

Fred shifted — you felt his body melt at your touch again.

“Perhaps it’s this new girl, ” Fred shrugged. He came off as unable to care deeply when your fingers ran through his scalp.

“I don’t think she’s much new,” you said, thinking more to yourself how George always appeared to be the more romantic of the twins.

“Which one do you think Ginny would like more?” Fred asked, holding what seemed to be two same shirts for you, who had no basic sense of how to tell Quidditch teams apart.

“Which one is she fan of?” you asked, deciding to not mention to Fred that you were terrible with teams.

Fred sighed. “Both,” he replied, knowing deep down that his sister would like any of the shirts, but he just wanted to get her the perfect one.

“Well, I’d pick this one,” you took a loop of faith, pointing to the shirt with your favourite colour. Fred stared at the one you aimed and then smiled, suddenly realizing you had no idea which team was each.

“I’ll go with your suggestion,” he then said, leaving the other shirt behind and heading to the cashier. You were glad he was over with the Quidditch Supplies store — you really had no interest in being there longer than necessary.

To be fair with Fred, he was being a very charming companion in the Hogsmeade trip, and he had even paid you a hot chocolate mug. Since students were bumping with you two all the time, the dating facade was still up and so, he was holding your hand around the village.

It was probably the first time since the whole thing started that you actually felt nervous about making physical contact with Fred. Perhaps it was because this trip (and the Christmas shopping thing) felt too personal, but you couldn’t be sure.

Well, actually, you didn’t want to be sure. You couldn’t have feelings for Fred — period.

“Did you buy everything you wanted?” you asked Fred, a couple of hours later, because you were a bit tired of walking around, pilling up bags of gifts. But you didn’t want to be the one to admit.

“Huh, yes,” he answered, after checking out the bags he held. “Three Broomsticks?”

Shaking your head in an affirmative, you repositioned your own plastic bags while Fred waited for you, with his hand stretched. You swallowed hard a second before you felt the touch of it — although perhaps the high temperature was the fault of the gloves you both wore.

Why the hell could you feel an electric shock when touching him when there were literally layers of tissue separating both of you?

Fred walked in first, holding the door up for you, and, as you walked in, he offered to take your bags himself. You tried to protest, but he was very determined about it, and you were glad to be free of the extra weight.

It was then you saw George, sitting in a table not far away from the entrance. He was laughing cutely because the girl with him had gotten herself a moustache made of butterbeer.

Oh, and the girl was Angelina Johnson.

“Fred?” you called his name, unsure of what to do, but you definitely needed to take Fred away from there. He looked up from the bags on the floor. “Let’s go back to the castle; we can drink butterbeer later.”

Fred frowned, confused with why you changed your mood. “I’ll grab it really fast, [y/n], don’t worry.”

“No, Fred, I want to go back,” you tried to be firm.

“[y/n], nonsense; why...?” but he never finished his question. Instead of focusing on your face as he was doing before, he focused on what was happening behind you.

And behind you, George and Angelina were having the time of their lives.

“Fred?” this time you called his name in a lower voice, scared of what his reaction. Well, or the lack of it, since he seemed frozen in time. “Freddie?”

The ginger boy shook his head as if he was getting rid of a bad taste in his throat. He finally met your eyes, and although he wasn’t exactly smiling, he didn’t look sad either.

“Sure you don’t want that butterbeer?” he asked, surprising you because or a) he was being very mature about the whole Angelina thing or b) he was hiding his feelings.

“Let’s get out of here,” you replied, not allowing him to suggest anything else since you took most of the bags on the floor and opened the door of the pub again.

If George noticed you two had walked in on his date, he never mentioned.

You didn’t stop walking — and hoped Fred was doing the same — until you were back at the train station and inside one to get back to Hogwarts. Since the trip was quick, trains were coming and going all the time, and with a look at your wristwatch, you knew that the next one was leaving in just ten minutes.

It was only when you sat down that you decided to face Fred again, who, unbelievably still had the same expression on: neutral.

“Okay. Can we talk about what we just saw?”

“My twin on a date?” Fred raised a brow, his expression shifting to confusion, but there was no sign of anger on it.

“Your twin on a date with Angelina,” you corrected the boy, turning your whole body to face him. It was comfy because the bags were no longer in your hands, making every move extreme.

“Oh, that.”

“That, Fred. Aren’t you... angry? Disappointed? Anything?” you asked. You were supposed to be handling this calmly, but his lack of emotion was annoying your guts.

“George’s happy, so I’m happy. It’s that simple, actually,” Fred shrugged, avoiding your eyes for the first time that day.

“It’s not simple. You like her, Freddie,” you stated what should’ve been obvious for him.

Fred sighed, shrinking in his cushioned seat. He had been avoiding that talk, and it was not just since he saw his twin with Angelina.

He has been noticing his feelings for Angelina had changed, but he couldn’t point out how it changed, and why it did. He figured it was because of you, but that made no sense in his mind.

You weren’t supposed to be his type. You were nerdy and an avid reader (and read for fun, which he could never understand). You didn’t know anything about Quidditch, so you stayed away from the sport. You thought long before you acted, which was so different from him, who was always more emotion than reason.

Honestly, he didn’t even understand how he managed to keep his friendship with you for so many years. Of course, Fred was grateful to be your friend — after all, you had a questionable sense of humour that always fascinated the ginger, and even though you were afraid of being caught for it, you never denied help to him and his brother when a prank needed.

He knew that something could change in the dynamics of the two of you when he suggested being your fake boyfriend, but he didn’t think that the change would turn the relationship into something so much better.

Fred stared back at you, having no idea of what to say to you. He was afraid of rejection. And this time his fear seemed more potent than anything he ever felt before.

“I don’t like her anymore,” he simply said, still focused on your beautiful eyes.

His answer confused you. “Well, then why are we still dating?”

You noticed when you forgot to add the word “fake” in your sentence, but you were so done with that word that you shook that thought away.

“I don’t know,” Fred sighed, looking down at his hands over his lap.

You stared at him, not being able to believe the guy. You had lost three weeks for a boy that didn’t know what he was doing? Three weeks that you could have invested in finding a real boyfriend?

Your hands reached for your plastic bags, and as soon as the train stopped, you ran out of it.

“[y/n]!” you heard Fred call you, but you didn’t dare look back.

“Didn’t see you and [y/n] in Hogsmeade. Did you guys leave early?” George asked when he sat down next to his twin in the common room.

He had walked Angelina back to her dorm, and he decided to see if his twin was still around. George was never one to brag, but he really needed to vent to someone about how happy he was that he could finally be with the girl he wanted because Fred didn’t fancy her anymore.

Fred looked up to his other half and pressed his lips tight against one another. If he didn’t tell George, he would find out later, and he wouldn’t be happy.

“We broke up,” Fred simply said, biting his nails.

George’s eyes widened as he stared at his twin and he gulped nervously, not knowing how to proceed. His happiness was suddenly gone.

Fred didn’t get over Angie, and, once again, George would’ve to step away, leaving the path over to his twin. Damn it, George told himself, I really thought [y/n] was the one for him.

“Can I ask why?” George was still holding on to his hope.

“She...” Fred started, but he didn’t know if that was the right way to say it. “I...” he corrected himself, but it still sounded off. “Well, we weren’t really dating.”

George raised his brows. How come you weren’t really dating? Thinking about it now, I never saw them kissing, George reminded himself. But the way they looked at each other, the way Fred melts at her touch... How [y/n] blushes when Fred praises her... You two looked like a real couple for George.

“It was one of my stupidest ideas, but I went with it, and now I’ve lost a friend,” Fred complained, staring at his twin, hoping George had a solution. But the younger twin was as lost as Fred. “I was so dumb!”

“Fake-dating is always a dumb idea,” George pointed out, relaxing once again.

So Fred does fancy her, he though. But he screwed up.

It wasn’t like Fred could tell George the real reason behind why he suggested dating to you, but he could spin around the truth.

“I had a reason behind the whole thing, I just wasn’t expecting [y/n] to become more important to me than my initial reason,” explained Fred, sighing.

“I was. I mean, I would’ve,” George said, making Fred stare at him with confusion. “You always seemed to have a thing for her. I don’t know, perhaps just attraction?”

George saw that Fred was still lost, so he continued.

“Like, did you really need her to teach you Aguamenti for that prank on Filch two months ago? We had just learned it with Flitwick,” George used the first example that popped in his mind. “Or when you wanted to prank McGonagall so she would believe you were Dumbledore — you’re gonna tell me you didn’t know how to prepare a Polyjuice Potion?”

Fred gulped, suddenly feeling guilty. His twin was right — he never needed guidance with those simple spells and potions, but he ran for your help at any chance he had. Only now he knew it was because he wanted to be around you.

He reached for one of the cushions over the red couch and screamed on it. George found the scene hilarious.

“I’m screwed!”

It was the Sunday after the Hogsmeade trip, and even though every cell on your body wished to stay in bed, you knew that deep down you had no real reason to be mad and to feel heartbroken.

Your involvement with Fred was fake, and it was bound to be over from the beginning. You, better than all people, should know it. So there was no reason to stay curled up in bed, moaning about it.

But even if you knew you were bound to see Fred around the school, you weren’t expecting him to be outside of your common room entrance, as if he was expecting you to come out.

“Fred?” you had no idea why you said his name in that tone of surprise. Down, you knew he would come looking for you as soon as he had another prank planned.

His face lightened up when he heard his name coming from your lips. After his long talk with his twin last night, he started noticing you did, in fact, have a strong power over him, one that even you didn’t seem aware of.

“We went Christmas shopping yesterday, and I never gave you your gift,” he said, explaining himself, answering the question you didn’t dare ask.

“It’s not Christmas,” you said, a bit too quickly, “yet.”

“But it’s soon to be,” he raised a brow, stepping away from the wall he was leaned in and handing you a small box.

“How come I didn’t see you buy it?”

“Because I can be very sneaky when I want to,” he smiled. It was so easy for him to be happy around you.

“Hm,” his answer didn’t convince you, but you opened the box anyway, finding a beautiful golden necklace inside.

It had a small pendant on it — an initial, his initial. The golden “F” sparkled in your hands.

“Fred, wow,” the jewel made you speechless — you knew Fred wasn’t rich and you were almost sure that it was very expansive. “I can’t accept it, Freddie — we’re not dating anymore.”

Fred stopped your hands with his before you could return the necklace.

“I bought it for you.”

“It has your initial on it,” you pointed out.

“Yeah, I hoped to mark you as mine,” he smirked, deciding to be bold about the situation.

“We’re not dating,” you said, swallowing down your wish to forget that detail.

“But do you want to?”

His question echoed in the passageway, but thankfully no one was around to disturb. You stared at the ginger, not believing he could actually be proposing what you heard.

“Fred...” you started, reminding yourself not to panic.

“I lied yesterday on the train. Not about Angelina — I do not fancy her,” he explained himself, stepping closer to you. “I lied about why I didn’t end or fake-relationship earlier. I didn’t do it because I couldn’t bear the thought of seeing you with someone else, making plans with another boy, holding hands with another guy.”

You gulped, but Fred didn’t seem ready to stop talking.

“I’ve never been as happy as I was during those three weeks you faked liking me,” he continued. “And being away from you will be the death of me. Please don’t turn the school prankster in the school bore,” of course he had to finish his charming speech with some cheeky sentence.

You couldn’t help but giggle, moving closer to him as well.

“I like you too, you idiot,” you smiled, holding tighter the jewel with just one hand.

“So... we’re dating again,” he smirked. “Only this time, I’m allowed to do this.”

Then, tugging you by the waist, he caught your lips in a kiss that would come to be the first of many.

#fred weasley #Fred and George #fred weasley x reader #george and fred #Fred and George Weasley #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x y/n #george weasley #a very harry potter christmas #harry potter #hp #fred x reader

629 notes · View notes

korruptbrekker · 2 years

Text

A Deal Worth Making, Chapter 1: Summoning Struggles

Summoning Struggles — [Next] — [Masterpost] — [AO3]

Rated T — Content Warnings: General Anxiety, Foul Language, Mentions of Major Character Death (no actual major character death) — Word Count: 2,408

@analogicalweek Day 1: Fear

Virgil saw the way their lips ticked upwards. He noticed how the daemon was more attentive, more alert. And shoving away all the red flags and all the many, many, many ways this could go wrong, Virgil grasped the daemon’s hand in his and shook.

—

Shit.

Virgil ran his hands through his hair, eying the summoning circle he’d put together over half an hour ago. He’d spent most of his evening pacing the length of his dorm’s living room, overthinking all the decisions he’d made that had led up to this point.

His daemonology final was due in less than 8 hours, and he wasn’t sure how the hell he was gonna do it. Sure, he had the circle all set up, but he still had a paper to write on his findings and just the thought of that made him anxious.

With one last exhale and a glance at the summoning recipe, he grabbed the matchbox off the table and began lighting the candles. He felt odd and awkward muttering infernal words beneath his breath, convinced he’d mispronounce something and screw the whole thing up.

He dropped the match on the smoke stick in the middle of the circle after lighting all the candles and took a step back, careful not to disrupt the salt barrier. He squatted down on his heels, his gut knotting like there was no tomorrow, and he waited.

Nothing happened.

All candles stayed lit, the pungent scent of lavender and sage filtering through the air as the smoke stick burned. Virgil groaned, dragging his hands through his hair and down his face. Count on him to fuck up his final project hours before was due. And sure, maybe he shouldn’t have procrastinated in the first place, but he didn’t think he would fuck up this badly.

He pulled his hands from his head, heaving himself to his feet and moving to disassemble the circle and try again. He reached for a candle, pausing when the air began to crackle.

He could feel the hair on his arms stand up within his hoodie, the back of his neck prickling. The sweetness of lavender and sage turned sour, tainted with the thick, metallic taste of magic.

He managed to stumble back just in time to miss the column of cerulean blue light that erupted from within the circle. The shockwave rattled the knickknacks on his counters, the cupboard doors shuddering and slamming against their wooden frames in protest.

A dark shadow appeared in the swath of blue, taller than Virgil by at least a foot with long, bull-like horns extending from their forehead. Panic wrapped its arms around Virgil’s chest and squeezed because holy fuck that was not a low rank daemon.

Based on the horns alone it was at least a rank 5, but knowing daemons it could easily be a rank 7. Not even Virgil’s professor was qualified to deal with a rank 7.

The blue faded away slowly, leaving only the daemon in its place. Apparently the light had warped their figure because now that Virgil was looking at them they didn’t seem any taller than he was. The horns were still there, just as menacing as they were in shadow, but at least the daemon wasn’t seven feet tall.

They were clad in a waistcoat and slacks, both a midnight blue, the shirt beneath their waistcoat that was rolled up to their elbows, only a few shades lighter than their ash-grey skin; though it was more like plating than anything else. There were sections of carapace along their forearms and face and Virgil was sure it didn’t stop there. Their eyes were voids, nebulous and deep and endless, their hair the same shade where it sat slicked back behind pointed ears.

Their head turned and the corners of their mouth shifted downwards, their thick brows furrowing. Despite not having pupils or irises, Virgil had the distinct sensation that they were sizing him up.

“Is there something you needed?” Their voice was crisp and cold, bright white fangs flashing when they parted their lips.

“Uhm—”

Virgil paused. He had an idea. A stupid, horrible, death defying idea. But if it worked he would pass the class with flying colours. And maybe get sent to the administration. He would definitely get sent to the administration. And possibly suspended. But he would pass the class. And that was all that mattered.

He took another look at the daemon, praying to Hecate and whoever else would listen that he didn’t get himself killed.

“Yeah—” He winced as his voice broke but plowed forward anyways. “Yeah, I need you to pass a class.”

There was a horrible, awkward pause. Then, “Is that all?” They looked at him like he’d just asked them to fetch him a drink of water. “You could have summoned an imp for that. Maybe, if you really wanted to, a Class II daemon. So, pray tell, why have you decided to summon a daemon noble to help you with your homework?”

Oh.

Oh shit.

“I need to prove I can manage a high level daemon for a class final.” Virgil lied through his teeth, panic clawing up his throat.

He desperately hoped that would be enough. Disappearing from the human realm and dying via daemonic torture was, surprisingly, not on his bucket list.

They leveled him with a half-lidded stare, their claws tapping along their carapace.

Click-click. Click-click. Click-click.

Virgil fought the urge to squirm under their empty eyes, determined to stand his ground. He would not fuck this up.

“Very well. I will allow you to use me as you see fit for this assignment only. In exchange you will allow me to stay with you unregulated for one year and observe your life.” They held their hand out.

“Do we have a deal?”

— — —

“You can find all the rubric information on the class website. And don’t forget, your first drafts are due on Wednesday.” Mx. Raechild waved them all off with a delicate hand, quickly retreating to their office.

Virgil stood from his seat, turning off his laptop and slipping it into his bag. “Hecate I’m ready for this semester to be over.”

“Tell me about it. Finals week is looming over my head and it’s still a month away. I don’t even have a topic picked out for my essay yet.” Patton came up next to him, gently bumping Virgil’s shoulder.

“What about the Nixie Riots? You mentioned liking those, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, I guess…” Patton glanced to the side. “But it’s just so depressing. This paper is already gonna be hard, I don’t want to hate all of it.”

“Hear hear.” Virgil muttered, following the throng of students funneling out of the classroom. “Logan can’t help because all this is too modern for him so I’m stuck doing things the old fashioned way.”

“Alone?”

“Procrastinating until the night before and then pulling an essay out of my ass and hoping that I pass the class.”

“Virgil!” Patton scolded, smacking his arm. “I’m not giving you points for that rhyming. Don’t do that to yourself. I’ll tell Janus if you do.”

“Oh dear Hecate please don’t. I don’t need both him and Logan pestering me to take breaks.”

Patton stopped, leveling him with a glare. “Virgil, breaks are healthy.”

Virgil waved him off. “Yeah, I know. I’m trying, Pat.”

He softened. “I know kiddo. Speaking of the guy, how is Logan? I haven’t heard much from him lately.”

“Just peachy. Having the time of his infernal life watching me subsist off of Monster and shitty Starbucks sandwiches.”

“Virgil!”

Virgil chuckled, shooting a reassuring smile Patton’s way. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. He’s been fine. A little quiet now that I think about it, but he gets like that sometimes. I’m sure he’s just waiting for finals to be over so he can actually spend time with me again.”

“Well, if you two ever need a pick-me-up you know where to find me. Besides, it’s been a while since you stopped by and both Emmie and Mom miss you.”

It had been a while since he and Logan had stopped by the pastry shop. He used to use any excuse to take Logan there just to see his face light up at the pastelitos, but things had been cranking up with school and he hadn’t had much energy to do anything aside from sitting in his bed and scrolling through Tumblr for hours on end.

“I’ll try to stop by this week, cool?”

“Cool! Gotta go Virge, but I expect to see you at the shop this week!” Patton called over his shoulder as he made his way down the right hallway.

“I’ll try!” Virgil called back, turning down the right.

The walk back to the dorms was nice. The afternoon sun shone through the green trees that lined the campus sidewalk, the sounds of the city filling the air. Virgil plugged in his headphones, hair shifting as he bobbed to the beat of his music.

His dorm wasn’t far, though it was on the second floor. He walked carefully up the staircase, wary of the laptop in his bag. Sure, it was off, but better safe than sorry. He’d hate to open it up to take notes in class only to find that some internal part had been thrown loose and his whole laptop was broken.

He firmly shook the thought off as he strode through the door; Virgil had enough anxiety with school, he didn’t need to bring more of it into his house. He gently placed his bag by the door before flopping onto the couch face first.

“Shoes!” Logan called from somewhere in the dorm.

Virgil lifted his head from the cushion. “It’s my house I can do what I want!”

“It’s neither a house, nor yours, so by your logic I can tell you what to do! Now take off your shoes!”

“Fuck you!” He shot back, rolling over and hugging a knee to his chest so he could untie his laces laying down. He reared his arm back, aiming for the shoe bin by the door. The shoe arced over his head, landing effortlessly into the bin.

Thunk.

Virgil grinned. Round two. He untied his other shoe, moving his arm back and gearing up to throw. He eyed the shoe bin, silently hoping that he’d make it again. Just as he was about to throw it the show was snatched from his hand and tossed over his head, landing perfectly in the bin next to the first.

Virgil tilted his head back to glare at Logan. “That was mine.”

“I don’t see you doing anything about it.” He replied, all smug teeth and shining eyes.

“Oh you motherfucker—” Virgil scrambled off the couch, not entirely sure what he was going to do to Logan, but he’d figure that out later. Now he had to focus on catching the daemon, which was a feat in and of itself.

He chased his roommate to the kitchen, stopping when he spotted a grilled cheese sandwich sizzling in the pan.

“Aw, Lo, you didn’t have to—” Logan held up a hand, effectively silencing Virgil.

“We’ve been over this. I know I don’t have to, but I do so anyways. Besides, it’s not as if I can eat human food either way. Or rather, I can but, you it all tastes like ash to me. So let me live vicariously through you and watch you eat the food I make. A win-win situation if I’ve ever heard of one.”

“A daemon living vicariously through a human. Never would have thought of that one.” Virgil snarked as he slipped the spatula beneath the sandwich, flipping it onto a plate.

Logan just rolled his eyes, though Virgil could see the fond smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. He pulled a knife out of the knife block, quickly slicing through the sandwich diagonally. Yes he still ate his sandwiches in triangles. Adult life was hard and he took his comforts where he could get them.

“Hey, you put ham in this, too!”

Logan smiled. “I figured you’d want something nice after class. I know it drains you.”

“If you think this is nice I wanna hear your thoughts on a Michelin star restaurant.” He muttered, mostly to himself.

It was always so interesting seeing the things Logan liked. It could be anything from grilled cheese sandwiches to quantum theory. It was nice to see someone who enjoyed things without all of the social stigma that came with being human. Virgil knew daemons had their own cultural norms, but they never did care about interests like humans did. It was nice, seeing someone so free to like whatever they wanted.

“So, D20?” Logan proposed.

“Hell yes.

“Virgil.”

“What? I was excited! I don’t mind rewatching it with you anyways! Don’t judge me.”

Logan rolled his eyes, making his way towards the couch. “You’re quite the handful, you know that?”

“I’m the handful? Have you even met yourself?”

“Oh I am nothing compared to you, I can promise you that.”

Virgil hopped over the back of the couch, whole body tensing when his plate wobbled, only just catching the sandwich before it fell onto the floor. Logan gestured to him.

“Case in point.”

“Fuck you.” Virgil shoved his sandwich into his mouth, purposely not looking at Logan.

“And now you’re pouting. See, you’re just proving my point over and over.”

Virgil opened his mouth to shoot back a retort, but of course Logan chose that moment to press play on the episode of Dimension 20.

“No talking, Virgil, the episode is starting.”

Virgil slammed his shoulder into Logan’s side in an attempt to wipe the smirk off his face. All it did was pull a chuckle and a placating pat from the daemon and a groan from Virgil. It had been two years and Virgil still forgot that carapace was harder than skin.

Having, begrudgingly, accepted that he’d have to surrender this time, Virgil settled further into Logan’s side, careful not to drop the other slice of his sandwich. The daemon may have won this time, but Virgil would be sure not to let him have the last laugh.

Image Credit

#sanders sides #fanfiction #fanfic #virgil sanders #ts virgil #logan sanders #ts logan #demon logan sanders #analogical #analogicalweek2022 #kbwrites

19 notes · View notes

mrsalwayswrite · 3 years

Text

More Than Today (Richard Winters x Reader)

So this has been in my wips for MONTHS. But here we are! I know its also been a hot minute since I’ve written any BOB fics. Sorry, friends. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: a couple swear words (thanks Nixon)

Words: 2750

Tag List: @happyveday @evelynshelby @sydney-m @saritanotserena

Paris.

City of Light.

City of Love.

Dick Winters just wished the soldier behind him would stop bumping his chair as he laughed at another dirty joke.

It had not been his idea to be here. Apparently Sink thought he needed a break. Nixon and Welsh ganged up on him, practically forcing him to pack his bag and get on the train.

Now that he was here though….it was nice.

He would never admit how many steaming, hot baths he had taken since finding his hotel room. Plus, sleeping in a real, soft bed- his bones sang with joy at the reprieve from the hard, army cot it had been subjected to for years now.

Tomorrow morning he was supposed to be leaving. His last 24 hours in Paris. Truthfully, he had done nothing, just rest. Both physically and mentally. He knew if he returned without having visited some kind of touristy place, both Nixon and Welsh would be furious. Though, he would have to have a conversation with Nix. It was not until Dick started unpacking that he found the box of condoms Nix must have slipped into his bag when he was not looking.

Sometimes he wondered why he put up with the man. Even that thought made him smile. Somehow him and Nix, they just clicked. Completely polar opposites but maybe that was what allowed their friendship to take root and grow.

The soldier behind Dick laughed loudly, rocking his chair back with the movement and knocking into Dick once again. He grimaced, just saving himself from spilling coffee onto his Class A uniform. He knew he outrank the man behind him and all his friends, he could easily say something…. but that seemed like a battle not worth fighting.

He quickly finished his small cup of coffee, relishing the actual bitter taste of the drink verse the watery stuff the army supplied. Standing up, he pulled out the change from his pocket, ready to leave a tip for the nice waitress.

"There you are!" A feminine voice called out with a distinctly British accent.

Dick lifted his head, knowing she was not talking to him but still curious. But then the strangest thing happened. He looked up and met her eyes as she walked past the few other tables. A blinding smile lit up her face and he felt his heartbeat stutter at how beautiful it was. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the others sitting around watching her with interest but her eyes remained solely focused on him.

When she came to his side, she gently placed a hand on his forearm and lifted up slightly on her toes to press a quick kiss to his cheek. "I'm so sorry I am late, love. I lost track of time. Do we still have time for a cup or shall we go?" She easily asked, as she slid down into the extra chair at the table.

He stood frozen for a moment, his mind questioning everything that just happened. Thankfully, his body went on autopilot and he sat back down in his chair. "Uh…. it’s fine."

"Lovely!" She beamed, waving a hand to get the attention of the waitress.

As he stared at her, his mind finally seemed to feel the tension hidden just below the surface of her overly-sunny disposition. Her hands laid in her lap, a white-knuckle grip on her small purse though. A friendly smile remained on her face but her eyes kept shifting warily over to the other side of the street, like prey keeping a predator in its peripheral.

Confused and now concerned, he peered over to where her eyes kept shooting. Two men stood across the street watching her with sullen expressions. Their uniforms informed him they were US army, the chevrons on their sleeves stated they were both sergeants.

Dick turned back to her and lowered his voice, even though he guessed over the noise of those around him, the men would not hear. "Ma'am, are you alright?"

"Wait." She said sharply, even though her smile never faltered. Then the waitress approached and the woman ordered a cup of tea with enthusiasm. Dick found himself ordering another cup of coffee per her insistence.

Finally, the waitress walked away, having had a brief conversation about the lovely color of lipstick she wore with the woman across from him after taking their orders.

It was then the woman peeked across the street once more. Whatever she saw, Dick watched the tension ease out of her. He glanced over to see the two men making their way back down the street.

"Bloody hell." She muttered, dropping her face in her hands.

"Are you alright? Were those men bothering you?"

"Mmm? Oh, no, well yes. They kept following me even after I told them I was meeting my fiancé. I am so terribly sorry I dragged you into this, it was either find someone to pretend to be my fiancé or find an alley nearby and stab them. I quite like this dress and would prefer not to get blood on it today."

He just stared at her, unsure how to take her answer. He would have thought it was a joke but with the way she casually answered, as if stating the sky was blue, he assumed she was serious. "Um, right." He coughed, not quite sure where to take the conversation from there. Luckily, she seemed to notice.

"Is there somewhere you need to go? I truly am sorry for holding you up. I'll pay for your coffee when the waitress returns, it's the least I can do. Don't feel like you have to stay here just for me."

"No, no. It's alright, ma'am. I was just…." His voice trailed off.

She smiled softly at him, folding her hands in her lap. "Are you stationed here in Paris?"

At that moment, the waitress returned with their ordered drinks.

"No." He answered her prior question, watching her take a sip from her cup. His own cup sat between his hands but he felt no need to drink it yet. "My CO demanded I take a 72-hour pass."

"Mmm….so you are one of those?" She laughed lightly at the look of confusion on his expressive face. "A CO who actually cares about his men, focuses on making sure they are taken care of, instead of spending time with the other officers wasting all his money on booze and women."

"Um…." He could feel a warmth spreading over his face. Hoping to hide it, he brought his cup to his lips and took a sip.

"It's alright, sir. We need more officers like you in this damn war. What's your name?"

That he could easily answer. "Lieutenant Dick Winters, Easy Company, 506th, Parachute Infantry Regiment, 101st Airbourne."

"Pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant Winters. I'm y/n y/l/n. So Airbourne, hmmm? I've heard about you. Tell me about your training."

And somehow Dick found himself telling her about Currahee, about the jumps at Mackall, the field drills in Upottery, even laughing about Sobel's antics with her.

Eventually, their cups ran dry.

"Where are you off to now?" She asked pleasantly.

Dick answered honestly, feeling relaxed in her presence. "I'm not sure."

"Well, it so happens I was on my way to visit the Notre-Dame Cathedral. Would you like to join me?"

"Sure."

Dick insisted on paying for both of their drinks, claiming his mother would read him the riot act if he allowed a woman to pay for her own. As they walked away from the cafe, she slipped her arm through his like they had done it a million times. Instead of feeling embarrassed or uncomfortable at the unexpected physical touch, he found himself smiling down at her.

What started off as a day without any intended plan, just enjoying not being on the front line or behind a desk writing reports, became one of the most enjoyable days of his life. After the Cathedral, they wandered along the Seine, stopping at any shop or attraction that caught their eye. She regaled him with different facts or histories of places they saw and other locations in Paris. Before the war, she had spent some time in Paris and now, having returned as a translator, she felt it was even more important to remember those things that the Nazis tried so hard to destroy.

Soon conversations turned to their own experiences at home, his in Pennsylvania and hers in London. The more they talked, the more he found himself attracted to her beyond the physical. She was a breath of fresh air amongst the smog of war. A ray of sunshine to remind him that above the dark clouds of War, the sun still resided. But even if the day was spent in laughter and companionship, a war still brewed outside. A painful reminder to what Dick's priorities should be. So, he promised himself that he would enjoy her company now, but once he left Paris, he would put her out of his mind. His men and the war came first.

As night settled over the city, they walked side by side back to her hotel. It was not too far from his own, thus he refused to listen to her protests and told her he would escort her back for her own safety.

"Well, this is me." She stopped in front of the lovely hotel. "Thank you for escorting me."

"It's the least I can do. You spent the whole day being my tour guide."

"That sounds dreadfully boring. But you'll have stories to share with that Nixon friend of yours. Though he may be more impressed if you bring him back a vintage bottle of wine."

"No, he only drinks Vat 69. Lord knows where the man keeps finding the stuff."

"Besides your footlocker?"

"Yeah, besides that." He chuckled at her jest and the mischievous smile on her face. As they stood there, smiling at one another, he found himself wishing they had more time. That perhaps he had met her before or after the war and had been able to court her properly. For now though, he would cherish their time together. "Thank you for today."

Her smile held a hint of sadness in it, as if she lamented their separation just as much as he did. "I pray our paths will cross again."

"Goodnight, y/n."

"Goodnight, Dick."

He stepped back, lingering a moment longer to gaze at her. After, he turned and started to walk away. The hour was late and they both needed to sleep. It was less than 8 hours until his train was to depart in the morning and he knew it would be wise to enjoy his soft bed one more time before returning to a hard, army cot.

"Dick!"

He spun around, surprised to see her walking towards him, her heels clicking loudly on the sidewalk.

"Is everything alright?"

Without acknowledging his question, she pressed her lips to his in an eager kiss. Dick liked to consider himself a gentleman, never to take advantage of anyone, especially a woman. In this moment though, as all thoughts fled under her touch, his body reacted on instinct. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against him while their lips parted, deepening the kiss. She moaned into his mouth, tasting like the wine she sipped on at dinner, her hands tightly gripping the lapels of his uniform. Heat coursed through his body as their tongues tangled together. He felt hypnotized, unable to pull away, to maintain propriety. Nor did he want too. She nipped at his bottom lip and his knees almost buckled underneath him. This moment was pleasure and fire, something he never experienced before….and something he wanted to revisit over and over with her.

After only a second and eternity combined, they both pulled back with swollen lips and breathless. Rising on her toes, she gave him a quick peck on the lips, a single flame compared to the bonfire they just lavished themselves in. Swiftly, she stepped back, running her hands over her dress.

"Goodnight…. don’t tell Nixon about this."

He nodded, almost shyly, mind still reeling from their shared passion. "Yes, ma'am."

With a playful, flirty wink, she twirled around and headed back towards her hotel, her heels clicking loudly on the ground.

Dick watched her walk away, lips still tingling and residual flames teasing his nerves. His eyes traced over her form, hoping to memorize it, to be able to always savor this moment. Looking up to the heavens, he silently prayed that one day, their paths would cross, one day he could perhaps pursue her, one day he could feel her lips against his again.

*****

"So, you still haven't said much about your time in Paris." Nixon prodded, sipping from his canteen that certainly was not water. The intelligence officer had been relentlessly interrogating his friend about his pass for the past week.

Dick rolled his eyes, not even glancing over. "Not much to say, Nix."

"You had to have done something! Come on! It's Paris!"

"I saw the Notre-Dame."

"Hey, that's something. Stop pressing him, Nix." Welsh butted in with his typical lazy grin. He reclined in the extra chair next to Nixon. "He did return the condoms."

"For Pete's sake." Dick muttered as he listened to the two men laugh. He stood looking out the window of his office, overlooking Easy Company below being drilled by Lieutenant Dike. Again. There was something to be said about being prepared but this went beyond that.

"Harry, how long have they been out there now?" He asked, not removing his gaze from his men.

Welsh sighed, glancing at the clock. "About two hours now."

"Right, come on. Let's go relieve them."

The other two scrambled to their feet, following Dick out of his office and down through the labyrinth of the HQ building. Lieutenant Dike had come with high expectations but the more Dick watched the man, the more worried he became.

"You're too soft on them." Nixon teased, trailing behind him.

Dick gave a quick salute to some officers they passed, never missing a step as he responded. "They aren't learning anything by marching back and forth out there besides ways to murder their CO."

"Was that a joke? Holy fuck. Did you hear that, Harry? Dick made a joke! Paris changed you."

"I heard. Still in shock." Welsh deadpanned.

Dick sighed good-naturedly as they stepped outside the building. Slipping his cap on, he started in the direction of his newest Lieutenant. The footsteps of his companions falling in step behind him.

"Dick!"

His feet screeched to a halt. He knew that voice. Whipping around, he was greeted by the sight of her. Someone he thought he would never truly see again. A beautiful, blinding smile on her face as she hurried towards him. His heart rapidly pounded within his chest, giving away his shock and joy at seeing her.

"Y/n? What are you doing here?" He could not help sweeping his eyes over her, surprised to see her in a WAC uniform. Though it did nothing to diminish her beauty.

"I was asked to be a translator and help with deciphering coded messages." She answered casually as if she had not just revolutionized his world. Standing in front of him, she motioned to the army camp around them. "Is this where you are stationed?"

"Yeah, yeah, it is."

"Oh, that's lovely. We'll be able to see each other again. I am late for a meeting otherwise I'd love to chat. Could I see you tomorrow for a cuppa?"

"Um, sure. Yes."

"Perfect. I'll find you in the afternoon." She raised up on her toes and gave him a quick peck on the lips, causing his mind to short-circuit. "It's good seeing you, Dick."

With that she spun on her heel and sashayed away, leaving all three men standing there shocked.

"Who was that?" Nixon demanded, gaze never leaving her retreating form.

"Y/n…. I met her in Paris."

Nixon smacked him on the arm. "You bastard, you said nothing happened there."

"Nothing happened." Dick tried to defend, even if the excuse sounded weak in his own ears. Besides, for him, something certainly did happen.

"Probably should have kept those condoms, Dick." Welsh said, clapping him on the shoulder with a chuckle.

And for a brief moment, Dick wondered if he was right.

#band of brothers #Band of Brothers fandom #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers imagines #richard winters #dick winters #richard winters x reader #dick winters x reader #lewis nixon #harry welsh #mzwrites

126 notes · View notes

myhauntedsalem · 3 years

Text

13 True Horror Stories from the Psychiatric Ward that Will Give You the Creeps

Death, illness and tragedy have long been part of the history of insane asylums, and for as long as they have existed, so too have the scary stories associated with them. From haunted hospitals to sadistic doctors and nurses, psychiatric wards have been the inspiration for many of our favorite horror movies and books. Yet, the true stories told by the psych ward workers below far surpass any horrors that we might have seen at the cinema or read in a book.

Without further ado, here are thirteen of some of the creepiest psych ward stories on the internet that have been shared by health care professionals.

1. Holding her own Eyes

My mom told me this story from her time at a neuropsychiatric ward while she was in grad school. She was making her routine room checks and happened upon the most horrific scene I’ve ever heard.

This was during the night shift, and generally, all the patients’ bedroom doors should be closed. So my mom turned a corner and noticed an open door. She saw a staff member’s legs on the floor, halfway out the doorway.

When she looked into the room, she saw the patient, a woman with a severe postpartum psychiatric disorder, who had just gouged both of her own eyes out with her bare hands. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor, holding her eyes in her hands.

The first staff member to witness the scene, who was now lying face down on the floor, had a heart attack when he first witnessed the woman while he was making his rounds.

My mom screamed for help and frantically tried to perform CPR on the staff member. All the while, the woman just sat rather calmly, holding her own eyes.

2. The Saw

I work as a psychotherapist in a hospital system. My definition of creepy is probably quite a bit different from other medical professionals.

The one that got to me the most was a patient who came to us after attempting suicide by sawing both his arms off at the forearm with a table saw. His arms were reattached, fairly successfully too, with only limited impairments in mobility. All I could think was how bad it would have to be to live in his head that sawing his arms off seemed better than that.

He has since completed suicide.

3. Jane?

We had a young lady in our custody with quite a few issues. We’ll call her Jane. Jane’s first night at our facility staff doing a bed check found Jane in a puddle of blood. Turns out Jane had been slicing the skin around her shin with her finger nails and was pulling her skin up her leg, essentially de-gloving her calf.

Jane also had a ritual she performed every night before bed. While in her room she would run between walls in her room touching them in a crucifix pattern. After doing this for a few hours she would sit on her bed and go to sleep. This particular night Jane was frantic in her pace, practically running between walls. Our night staff observed the entire interaction and reported Jane screaming late into the night. When the staff went to check on Jane she reported Jane standing in the doorway smiling. The staff asked what was wrong and Jane replied, “what makes you think you are speaking to Jane?”

4. The Vampire

My mom worked in mental institutions in her younger years (and actually worked at a large, well-known asylum before it was shut down.)

There was one woman there that thought she was a vampire of sorts. She was only allowed out one hour a day, and they had to use safety precautions. She had already attacked and killed at least one hospital worker before these were enacted.

When my Mom asked about her, it was revealed that she had killed at least two of her children, wounded another as well as her husband because she had some sort of physical condition called Porphyria, which apparently made her crave blood.

By the time that they discovered there was something physically wrong with her, she already had lost her mind from guilt and grief.

5. The Spitter

I’m not a psychologist but my friend is. She told me about a patient of hers who was HIV positive and a paranoid schizophrenic. He thought that the nurses who worked at the hospital he was in were trying to kill him, so he would frequently bite his tongue, and spit HIV positive blood into their faces/mouths. When they had to come into contact with him, they were required to wear full masks and gloves.

6. The Only One

I once knew a woman who had spent part of her residency at a psychiatric hospital for people with severe mental conditions. Apparently, the grounds had a lovely, enclosed greenhouse. One day, one of their schizophrenic patients was sitting on a bench, smoking a cigarette, as a heron frantically flew around. It had found its way in and, not being able to escape, it was smashing into the large panes of glass. The man just sat there watching.

Finally, my counselor asked him if the bird was bothering him and he kind of sighed and said, “Thank god, I thought I was the only one seeing that.”

7. Family Photographs

My sister is the director of a psychiatric hospital. There was recently a lady there who would cut her arms, legs and torso open and place photographs of her family under her skin.

8. Under the Bed

Once, a fellow female patient told me she found writings under her bed. They were just old, small wooden bed frames with hard mattresses that would make all kinds of noises when you rolled over, but I still wondered what exactly she was doing lying under her bed to find these writings.

When she first told me, I thought it was a joke. But sure enough, one day during group we managed to sneak away, and she showed me. Indeed, there were stories written under her bed. After that, we had everyone check under their own beds, and there was more writing under every single bed.

They were stories of patients who had stayed here before, or ways they were planning on killing themselves, or who the good and bad nurses were. It creeped me out.

9. Time of Death

Well, my mother was a nurse that specialized in geriatrics, and she worked for several hospice hospitals for many years. She often described situations at her work with several of the patients. She would say that each person tends to have a very similar “checklist” that they follow right before death. This checklist often ended in a very similar way.

They would get caught talking to someone that wasn’t there. When asked who they (otherwise lucid people) were talking to, they would describe an individual who was already dead. When asked what they were talking about, they would say that their relative wanted to know if they were ready to move on. A pretty common response would be, “Yeah, he/she said that she will take me tomorrow at 3:00.” Well, it would often happen that they would die at the exact time their relatives quoted.

10. The Test Subject

I had an hour-long conversion with a delusional guy who was confined to a mental health facility, and who was probably smarter than I am. Lots of these folks believe that somebody – often the CIA – is either beaming thoughts into their heads, or has implanted a microchip in their brains for this purpose. This guy was offering a very thoughtful argument as to why such claims should not be so quickly dismissed.

“It’s precisely because such delusions are so common that mental patients make the best test subjects,” he said. There he was, confined and protected, constantly observed, his health and behavior documented, and there is zero chance that anyone would ever take his concerns seriously. How else would you test and improve such technology? Does the government not have a strong motivation and a plausible ability to create such a device?

“You can see I’m not irrational,” the man said. “I’m just straight-up telling you that they are doing this to me. I know just how unbelievable it sounds, and yet, here I am.”

11. The Boy who Loved Knives

As a tech in psych years ago, there was a 7-year-old kid sent to the floor because the mom didn’t know what to do with him. Sadly, common thing to happen, even if the kids don’t have psych issues. Anyway, the mom was shaking and crying, and they had to take the kid into another room. She was genuinely afraid of her own son. She had suspected something was wrong when she kept finding mutilated animals in the backyard, but never heard or saw coyotes or anything around. The neighbors smaller pets started disappearing. The boy had an obsession with knives, hiding them around the house. Denying anything when the mom confronted him. Then when the two started getting into arguments, he would get really violent and hit her, push her down and kick her, threaten to kill her. On multiple occasions she woke up in the middle of the night with him standing beside her bed, staring her in the face. She put extra locks on her bedroom door to feel safe while she slept. The last straw was when she lifted up his mattress and found 50+ knives of all shapes and sizes under there. So she brought him to us.

I remember talking to him, treating him like he was just any other kid that came through. He seemed remarkably normal, until you spoke directly to him. He had this way of looking right through you, or maybe like he didn’t see you at all while you were speaking.

He would respond like a robot, like he was just saying words because that’s what we wanted to hear. And he would always put on this creepy, dead-looking smile. Like all mouth and no eye involvement in the smile. Especially when he would get away with something, like taking another kid’s markers and they couldn’t figure it out. Still gives me chills laying here thinking about him.

I believe I met a 7-year-old psychopath.

12. The New Mom

I was a pharmacy technician at a hospital with a psych ward for some time. We would have to go around with a cart and dispense the patients’ medications, and being a 5’2″ girl, a security guard or male nurse would accompany me, just as a precaution. I never had any real issues other than the occasional death grip onto my arm or manic outbursts, but there was one boy who was entirely different.

His chart said he was nine and he had pale skin, dark hair, and huge bright, green eyes. He always greeted me in the most polite way, asked how I was doing, and always found something different to compliment me on every time. He was extremely well-spoken and mature for his age, so I began looking forward to seeing him, as normal small talk is definitely cherished in that setting. If he saw me outside of his room in the halls, he made sure to say hello and always called me “Miss Jones” or “ma’am.”

One day, a couple of our female nurses saw me pause to chat with him in the hallway, and waved me over to ask if I was out of my mind. Apparently, when he was in kindergarten, he grew an intense attachment to his young female teacher.

This escalated to the point of him calling her “Mom” and leaving notes for her about how he wished he were her son. He had a normal home-life with both parents, and the teacher tried to explain to him that she couldn’t be his mom because that would hurt his real mother’s feelings, and that she already had that job covered.

So, he went home and, killed his own mother in her sleep by cutting her throat, so his teacher could be his mom. The female staff had a general rule of not interacting with him excessively to prevent any kind of attachment from forming.

13. Bugs

Nothing I can say can possibly describe the year I worked in Psychiatric Intensive Care. Creepy isn’t the thing that comes to mind when I think back on it…more heartbreaking and horrifying. But creepiness was a part of it. Especially evening and night shifts, naturally.

There is always something disturbing about watching someone while they hallucinate. You can tell it is 100% real to them, and something about that makes you believe it, on some level. A lot of stories end with, “and of course, I had to look over my shoulder to make sure”. You see the emotions it brings out.

There was a woman that came in and sat down across the table from me for her admission interview. She had bandages all over her arms and scotch tape over her mouth and ears. She looked very uncomfortable and wouldn’t really sit still. When the nurse would ask her a question, she would peel the corner of the tape back and answer, then stick the tape back on really fast.

We eventually found out that she saw and felt bugs crawling all over her, and they were trying to get inside her body. The tape was to keep the bugs out. The bandages were because some bugs got in and she had to dig them out. She couldn’t sit still because she felt the bugs all over her even while we sat and talked. The worst part was, she had some idea that it was her mind playing tricks on her. Can you imagine going through your life, feeling like someone is continuously dumping buckets of cockroaches on your head, feeling like they’re all over you and getting inside of you to the point that you’re digging chunks out of your flesh in a panic, all while knowing intellectually that none of it is real?

#13 True Horror Stories from the Psychiatric Ward that Will Give You the Creeps #shared stories #paranormal #ghost and spirits #ghost and hauntings #haunted salem #myhauntedsalem

27 notes · View notes