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roosterforme · 6 months ago

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Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 20 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley gets the update he's been waiting for. You get something you weren't expecting. Neither of you can tell the other how you're feeling.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, romantic Bradley, 18+

Length: 3700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

You drove Bradley's Bronco back to his house, dragged yourself back inside, and climbed back in bed. You cried so hard when you watched him carry his duffle bag into the airport, you had painful hiccups for twenty minutes afterwards. Now you were emotionally drained and on the cusp of a headache, and this was only the first day.

With your cheek on Bradley's pillow, you pulled the covers over your head and took a few deep breaths. He didn't know much about his deployment, but the communication blackout was designed to keep you from learning anything. If something happened to him, it might be weeks before you heard about it. Your heart ached as you thought about how lonely he was going to feel after he made it a point to tell you how much he loved getting mail from your class last time.

You felt your phone vibrate in your pocket, and you scrambled to get it out.

About to take off. I love you, Gorgeous. I'll let you know when I land.

Well, you had about six hours to kill until you would hear from him again, which felt bad enough. Then seven full weeks after that. You typed back to him with fresh tears in your eyes, and then you tried to sleep, but the hiccups came back. When you moved to the couch, it felt too cold. You were tempted to call Natasha, but if you couldn't even make it a handful of hours without Bradley, you didn't think she would be able to help you.

It would start to get better. It would have to. When your winter break ended, you'd be back in your classroom with your students. You could dive into your lesson plans for the new year. You could focus on teaching. You could do this. Because if you found out the hard way that you couldn't, then you had no business being with Bradley.

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Bradley was given a tiny room in the barracks on base in Norfolk, and he spent the entire night talking to you on the phone. Literally six hours straight before he passed out, sound asleep, hanging halfway off the bed with his phone connected to the charger. One of the last things he remembered you saying was, "As soon as you know if it's San Diego or Norfolk, let me know. I love you."

The following morning, he was so exhausted, he was practically dizzy as he met with his commanding officer, Admiral Walker, for this new special deployment. Even his arm felt heavy as he saluted Walker in his office. It was barely seven o'clock which equated to four in the morning in San Diego, and he knew it would take him a few days to get caught back up on sleep at this point. But every second of talking to you was worth it.

"Lieutenant Bradshaw. Welcome back to the Atlantic Fleet," Walker told him, gesturing to the empty chair in the office.

"Thank you, Sir," he replied, even though he was far less than thrilled to be back in Virginia at all. The prospect of a change of station could not have come at a worse time when he spent the flight from California looking at engagement rings on his phone.

As Bradley sat down, the older man said, "We never wanted to lose you to the Pacific in the first place, so I'm sure you can understand why you'll be staying on the east coast after your seven weeks on the Gerald R. Ford is complete."

His heart sank to his feet, and he felt like he was going to throw up. "Sir?" Bradley asked. "That's it? There's no chance of me returning to North Island?"

When the response he got was a raised eyebrow, Bradley pressed his lips into a line. This man wasn't going to give a shit that he owned a house in Coronado or that he was in love with the most beautiful woman in the world who happened to work in Mira Mesa. Something told him that keeping his mouth shut was the better option right now, even though he felt like punching a hole in the wall and flipping the desk.

Walker shuffled some papers on his desk. "Plans still need to be finalized, but it is our goal, and the goal of the US Navy, to change your station to Norfolk."

The words echoed in Bradley's mind. He couldn't decide if he should tell you about this yet. It wasn't like he had signed paperwork in his hand. Until he did, as far as he was concerned, he was going back to Top Gun and the love of his life. He knew you were stressed and concerned enough as it was, and he didn't want you to have to dwell on this unless it was finalized.

"Once aboard the carrier, mission details will become available to you and the other aviators," Walker informed him. "I have a folder with your bunk assignment and some more information that you can take with you right now. You'll have access to your phone for about another hour, but as soon as you report to the carrier, it will need to be shut down and locked up. Are we clear, Lieutenant?"

Before Bradley could even respond, there was a sharp knock at the door. Walker heaved a weary sigh as his gaze left Bradley's face, and he barked, "Come in."

Of all the faces he knew from North Island, Bradley wasn't exactly sure if it was a friendly one, but when the door opened, Admiral Simpson came strolling inside in his service khakis. He couldn't fathom why his meeting was being interrupted by Cyclone, but he sat quietly with the folder in his hands.

"Admiral Walker," Beau Cyclone greeted, voice as stern as ever. "You never returned my calls, and red eye flights the week of Christmas are not something I find endearing."

Walker stood behind his desk with all of his accolades hanging on the wall behind him, and Bradley jumped to his feet as well. "Admiral Simpson," Walker replied, voice dripping with disdain. "There was no need for you to fly out in person to release your pilot to my fleet."

Bradley could hear Cyclone's knuckles crack as he watched his eye twitch. He was somehow caught in the middle of this, but it looked like the Top Gun admiral was in no mood to be outmaneuvered and lose a member of his team. Bradley silently goaded him on while he stood there completely still.

"I'm not releasing anyone to you. That's not how this works," Cyclone barked. "If you can't manage your fleet, you don't get to poach from mine."

The admirals seemed to be in a competition to see whose face could get redder. "Admiral Simpson, I'm sure you'll find my rank alone is reason enough for-"

"You do not outrank me," Cyclone interrupted, voice loud but calm. Then he turned toward Bradley with his jaw clenched and said, "Lieutenant Bradshaw. You are dismissed. Please board the USS Gerald R. Ford on time for your deployment."

"Yes, Sir," he replied, saluting both men before walking back out into the hallway on slightly unsteady legs. He paused, hoping to hear some more of their conversation or an outright blow up that would give him a clue as to what the fuck was going on, but instead he walked the rest of the way to the barracks to collect his duffle and head to the docks.

With his phone in his hand once again and his bag slung over his shoulder, Bradley called you. He knew it was early and he'd be waking you up, but time was tight now. And your voice was the only thing that would keep him sane at the moment.

"Bradley," you sighed a second later, and he pressed his phone tighter to his ear.

"Baby, I miss you so much," he promised, heart aching. He swallowed hard and decided not to bring up anything that was going on since he didn't have a completely clear understanding of it himself. "I'm about to board the carrier."

He could hear you crying, and he wanted to kick himself. "Just come back safely. That's all I want. As long as you're safe, that's all that matters to me, okay?"

He was having a hard time keeping his own tears at bay. "Me, too. We'll figure out the rest of it later, Gorgeous. Take care of yourself. Write in the journal. And don't forget to check the mail."

"I love you, Bradley!"

"I love you so much."

As soon as he ended the call and turned off his phone, he had to walk through a small building for security screening. It was there that his bag and phone were taken from him. When he exited the other side, his duffle was handed back to him, but his phone was not.

"Sorry, Lieutenant," the petty officer told him with a shrug when he glared. "I'll tag it for you and return it when you get back to Norfolk. At least it's not a long deployment."

Bradley couldn't even argue with that. It wasn't that long in the grand scheme of things. He'd been overseas for a full twelve months at a time when he was younger. This should have felt like nothing, but he knew it would feel like the worst one. He hefted his bag higher on his shoulder and started to head for the bunk that would be his for the duration. There was no sense in standing on deck when there was nobody who would be looking for him to see him off.

He made it down two hallways before a loud voice echoed off the walls around him. "Lieutenant Bradshaw." When he turned, Admiral Simpson was heading his way, face so red it was almost purple. Bradley's heart sank.

"Yes, sir?"

The other man pulled his composure together, sighing like an angry bull. "While you will be under the command of Admiral Walker for this deployment, you will fly directly back to San Diego when you return to port in Norfolk. You'll be presented with the paperwork today."

Bradley's jaw dropped open. "I'm returning to the Pacific Fleet, Sir?"

He got one firm nod in response. "I told you last week that I would do what I could to retain you."

This was honestly the best case scenario, and Bradley could feel some of his tension melt away. "You weren't kidding," he mumbled before clearing his throat. "Thank you, Sir. Being in San Diego is important to me."

"Fly safely, Lieutenant. See you in seven weeks," Cyclone barked before turning on his heel and walking toward the ramp back down to the dock.

Bradley pumped his fist in the air. "Fuck, yeah," he whispered, spinning on the spot. He would get to go back to the station he preferred in North Island as well as his friends, but most importantly, he would get to return to you. There would be no stress of packing and moving and hoping you were still willing to come with him. He could stay in Coronado.

When he slid his hand into his pocket to get his phone out to call you back, he froze. "God damn it."

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If waiting for emails and letters was bad before, this was torture. The early days of getting to know Bradley through written notes left you with constant butterflies in your tummy, but now it felt like you were walking around with a lead weight instead. You constantly caught yourself reaching for your phone to text him before setting it back down in frustration.

You hadn't heard from him since before he stepped onto the aircraft carrier, and that was four days ago. Today was New Year's Eve, and at least you had the wine bar with Natasha to look forward to. While you got dressed and ready to go, you couldn't help but put in just the bare minimum amount of effort. What was the point when your boyfriend wasn't even here to give you kisses along your neck and call you Gorgeous? You pouted at your reflection in the bathroom mirror and put the cap on your lip gloss before even using it.

"You look nice," Nat said as you climbed in the front seat of her car. You turned to look at her with one eyebrow raised.

"I'm wearing Bradley's old sweatshirt with a pair of leggings that are starting to get a hole in the crotch."

She started cackling as she pulled away from the curb. "Well, you still look nice."

"Thanks," you said softly, watching the houses go by.

As Nat turned toward the highway to head up to Oceanside, she asked, "How are you making out?"

You pressed your lips together for a few seconds, trying to make sure you weren't going to cry. "I'm just having a hard time being off from work while he's gone. It's... harder than I thought it would be. I can't wait to return to my classroom in a few days."

"I'm sure that will make it easier," she agreed. "You'll be so busy, time will start to fly by. Oh, I forgot to ask if you got any interesting mail at Bradley's house since he left?"

You shook your head. "I barely remember to check the mailbox most days. Why?"

"Don't worry about it," she replied smoothly. "You'll be back to work in a few days, but in the meantime, we've got merlot and chardonnay to keep your mind occupied."

"Sounds like you're talking about two hot French men," you said with a laugh.

"I could be! You don't even know!"

Now both of you were laughing. And you were still laughing when you actually did order a glass of merlot and a glass of chardonnay. You and Nat enjoyed some wine flights and cheese platters, and she regaled you with stories about Bradley from flight school.

"When he was twenty-two, he probably weighed a hundred and twenty pounds," she said with a smirk. "He was such a nerd, too. God, it was so bad." You were trying to stifle your laughter as she added, "Once he really started working out and grew the mustache, he thought he was hot shit. He's still a fucking nerd."

"He kind of is," you agreed through your giggles.

"But he's a good one," she promised. "Wears his heart on his sleeve too often, but I don't think he has to worry about you breaking it."

You ran your hand along the sleeve of his sweatshirt. "Never."

Once the two of you were filled with cheese and sober enough to get back in the car, you paid for your adventure with the gift card Bradley gave you, only to find out it had five hundred dollars on it.

"Natasha! We need to come back like four more times," you said as you signed the slip.

"I don't see any issue with that," she muttered, leaving cash for a tip. "I think I'll write Bradley an email and thank him for funding girls' day so he can read it when he gets back to Norfolk."

"I think he'd like that."

You started thinking about the journal sitting on the nightstand in his bedroom. Every night before you fell asleep, you'd been pouring your heart and thoughts out into the thing, but even the mention of the word Norfolk had you fretting again. You managed to keep up the conversation with Bradley's best friend as she drove you back to Coronado, but perhaps you should keep most of your things packed after you moved your stuff to his house. What if you had to move to Virginia when the school year ended?

"Thanks for driving," you told her when she pulled up to Bradley's driveway to let you out.

"Anytime," she said, waving you off. "We'll go back up again soon." When you leaned in to give her a hug, she told you, "Don't forget to check the mail."

"Okay."

You weren't sure exactly what her deal was since Bradley couldn't send you anything, but if she wanted you to, then you would. You already promised your boyfriend you'd keep an eye on anything unusual that arrived, so as you walked up to the front door, you took a peek inside the mailbox. Empty. Just like the house. You curled up on the couch with the journal and started to write your daily entry.

I heard from a very reliable source (Natasha) that you were and still are a nerd. I'm going to need to see some pre-stache photos of you when you get home. Your best friend is a wealth of information when you get some wine in her, and I had a great time with her today.

But I miss you. So much. Sometimes it knocks the breath out of my lungs. Your house is too cold and quiet without you here, hogging the couch and eating snacks. I'm looking forward to school starting up in a few days. It'll be a little less lonely when I have eighteen kids telling me what they got for holiday gifts. Of course I'll have to tell them they won't get a visit from their favorite aviator for a while. We'll just be nineteen sad pen pals.

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On January second, you were working on your lesson plans while wearing Bradley's gym shorts and eating potato chips. Tomorrow you'd get back into a routine with work, but first you were going to allow yourself one last day of being kind of pitiful. You bit off more than you could chew with Bradley, and now you were paying the price.

You sporadically started crying at random times throughout the day, and it was only made worse by the overwhelming feeling of being alone. If you could barely make it a week without hearing from him, how were you going to make random deployments with no communication your lifestyle? Why did you even think you could?

While you were crunching your way through some potato chips, you heard something thump on the front porch. The sound made you jump on the couch, and you set your snack down on the table and crept to the front door. When you peeked outside, there was nobody there, but when you cracked the door open, you saw a box. A fairly large box. Addressed to you.

"Oh my god," you gasped. It was from Bradley. According to the date stamped next to your name, he somehow sent a box from the post office in San Diego last week. "Oh my god!"

You grabbed it and kicked the door shut, almost tripping on your way back to the coffee table. When you tried to claw at the tape, you almost broke your nails. "Scissors," you shouted, running for the kitchen drawer by the sink where your boyfriend kept a random assortment of junk. Then you walked quickly back to the couch and started to cut into the box.

Natasha had to be behind the arrival of the box, but you couldn't fathom what could possibly be inside. If Bradley wanted you to have something, he could have simply given it to you before he left. Your heart was pounding as you set the scissors down and looked inside.

"Bradley," you gasped, tears filling your eyes as those familiar butterflies zoomed and swooped around in your belly. You'd been so upset about missing out on his letters, he sent you a whole box of them. There were dozens of envelopes and little treats filling the box nearly to the top, but a neon orange envelope with OPEN ME FIRST written on it caught your eye. You pulled it out of the box and tore into it.

Hey, Gorgeous,

I'm thinking about you right now. Guaranteed. It doesn't matter when you get this box or when you read this note, I'm thinking about how much I love you. And if I'm asleep, I'm dreaming about us eating Thai food on the beach in front of a sunset that is nowhere near as beautiful as you.

I hope you realize there was no way you weren't going to get some letters from me while I'm deployed. I would never let that happen. Somehow, you fell in love with me this way in the first place, and more than anything, I want you to feel as loved as I do. So I filled this box with little notes and long, rambling love letters and things I thought you might like. When you read the individual envelopes, you'll know what to do.

Please fill that journal up for me. I can't wait to read it in seven weeks. I'm missing you like crazy, and I selfishly hope you're missing me just as much. I love you.

Yours Truly,

Bradley

With shaking hands, you set the note down on the orange envelope and swiped at your tears. You never dreamed you would meet a man this romantic, but somehow you did, and he became your boyfriend. "Oh, Bradley," you whispered, picking up a stack of envelopes and reading what was written on each one.

Open me when you've had a bad day

Open me when you really want some coffee

Open me when you need a laugh

Open me when you're in bed

Open me when you need a girls' night

Open me with your class

You flopped down onto the couch and kicked your feet in the air. "Bradley!" you shrieked, voice breaking as you started to cry. You hugged the letters to your chest and let the warm feeling of being loved wash over you and fill your heart. He was unbelievable. He was perfect. He was everything you wanted. And somehow you loved him a little more and missed him a little less with this box on the coffee table.

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He's so romantic. He's taking care of Gorgeous from afar! He's coming home to San Diego, but she doesn't even know it! Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls and @daggerspare-standingby

PART 21

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andreafmn · 7 months ago

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Kinktober ⛓️ Day 20

Word Count: 3.1K Paring: Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Reader Prompt @kinktober2023: Foodplay WARNINGS: SMUT 18+ (minors DNI), food play, oral (male and female receiving)

Summary: Stiles Stilinski is forgetful. Everyone knows that, but no one more than his girlfriend (Y/N). There have been far too many occasions where the boy has forgotten special events or details for her to be mad when he fails to mention they have only one afternoon to bake a hundred cupcakes for a bake sale. And, instead of growing angry, she goes down a sweet turn.

A/N: I should be ashamed how long it has taken me to finish this damn series, but at least we are one step closer. Hopefully I finish before october 🫣🫣

MASTERLIST

In hindsight, volunteering to make a hundred cupcakes for a fundraising bake sale wasn’t the best idea. Even if it was for the lacrosse team, it sort of ended in disaster. Sweet, sweet disaster.

It was the first time since Stiles had been on the team that the lacrosse Cyclones had made it to the state competition, and they were not ready for the financial toll it would take. Since Jackson had left the school, most of the sports teams had their budgets slashed, as the Whittmores felt no need to continue contributing to their son’s extracurriculars.

However, the kids at Beacon Hills High School were nothing if not resilient, and they were determined to get the team to Santa Barbara.

Somehow, the idea of a bake sale made its way to the top of the fundraising list, and everyone and their mother had to come up with an item to bring to the school. Somehow, Stiles had roped him and (Y/N) into baking a hundred cupcakes by Monday morning, and it just so happened that it was Sunday afternoon.

It wasn’t the first time Stiles had gotten them in a pressing situation—most times, it was more life and death, but nevertheless, still pressing. The worst part was, he’d only just told his girlfriend two hours before they had to get to work. The pair had quite a long night ahead of them. Not that (Y/N) wasn’t used to it.

If the girl ever said that Stiles forgetting crucial details was a sporadic event, she’d be lying. In the years they had known each other, it had become a staple in their relationship. Even when they were only friends, she’d had to make sure anything they were meant to do was told to her first, or else she’d only find out when it was too late.

(Y/N) didn’t mind, though. She understood that the boy’s brain had always been riddled with far too many thoughts, and juggling it all could be quite frustrating. That’s why, when he woke her from her Sunday morning sleep-in, she simply said she’d shower, change, and head to his house. The girl knew he hadn’t done it in malice, so there was no point in being angry at him. At least he had remembered.

Thankfully, the journey wasn’t long since all she had to do was walk to the house next door. But she did notice the lack of a sheriff cruiser on the driveway. Only Stiles’ blue Jeep stood there, a layer of dirt gathered on the paint. Not only were they meant to bake a hundred cupcakes and decorate them, but they had to do it by themselves. And (Y/N) could only laugh at the situation.

��Stiles, I’m here,” she called out as she walked into his house as she had done a million times before. “I hope you’ve already gotten started.”

“Well, about that,” he chuckled awkwardly. It wasn’t until the girl walked into his kitchen that she saw he had only gone as far as getting the groceries they needed. “I didn’t know where to start, so I was waiting for you to get here.”

“This is gonna be a long night, huh?” she sighed with a smile as the boy nodded. “Alright then. Let’s get to work.”

In a matter of minutes, (Y/N) had set a game plan for the pair. She divided the ingredients into four stations for the four flavors they’d be doing, making sure that each recipe was visible and easy to follow. The last thing they needed were more setbacks. They only had so many hours to do 25 cupcakes of each flavor and make sure they were cool enough to be decorated. Everything had to be done precisely as written.

And for the first couple of hours, it had worked. Stiles and (Y/N) were working together like a well-oiled machine. While one mixed, the other served. While one set the timer, the other cleaned. It was all coming together nicely—too nicely.

It was only a matter of time before disaster struck.

Stiles had started to grow angsty with the repetitive tasks, his veins itching for more spontaneity. He knew he had brought this upon himself. Worse even, he had brought it upon (Y/N) as well, who, for some reason, never seemed annoyed with his constant brain scatters. Since he had known her, she had always been understanding of the way his brain worked. Where others would have chastised or criticized him, she took the time to ground him. It had been one of the many reasons he found himself falling in love with her. No matter how many times he would screw up, she was always supportive and sympathetic, finding ways to help him rather than bring him down.

And that afternoon was no different.

They were merely done with the vanilla cupcakes when Stiles had begun to grow bored. (Y/N) had instructed him to put away the dirty bowls and whisks used for that flavor before they started on the chocolate ones, but all he could think about was the chocolate syrup he had bought to drizzle on top of the dessert. His mind filled with some very unhygienic ways he could use the sweet liquid and where he could use it.

Suddenly, as though she had been reading his mind, the girl took the bottle and let it stream into her mouth. A few drops landed on her chin, and she wiped them up with her fingers before popping the digits back into her mouth. There was no subtext to it. Just a girl enjoying chocolate syrup.

But in Stiles’ everything was different. Wind was blowing her hair back, the lights had dimmed, and sensual music played in the background, all in slow motion. He was turned away from (Y/N) at the sink when he felt his erection press against the zipper of his pants, making for a very uncomfortable position as he washed the dishes. Stiles moved his legs from side to side, pressing his knees together as he searched for some much-needed friction.

But to (Y/N), he looked like he had been holding his pee in for the past few hours. “If you have to go to the bathroom, you can, Stiles,” she chuckled as she slithered her arms around his waist, grinning as he stiffened under her touch. “I don’t mind cleaning this up.”

“Oh, uh, that’s not it,” he stammered awkwardly. “I don’t really have to pee.”

“You can take a break if you want, then,” she said. “I know this is not the most thrilling task. At least, not compared to chasing down supernatural creatures. But you still made the compromise, so we have to get this done tonight.”

“Yeah, I know,” he continued fidgeting. His front was pressed against the counter, trying his best to keep his hardening bulge from her sight. “I just need a second.”

(Y/N) noticed the way Stiles froze against the counter, not even turning to give her a kiss on the cheek like he normally did. Instead, he washed the same bowl three times before noticing that he had yet to take another dish. His legs were pressed together, and his knees buckled back and forth in search of… friction, she realized. Her boyfriend was sporting a raging hard-on while they baked cupcakes.

She couldn’t fathom what about their situation had turned him on. They were covered in flour from their hair to their clothes, they had been standing for a couple of hours, and they hadn’t as much as touched hands since they had begun working. But the sweet taste in her mouth reminded her of what she had done only a few minutes before. The image of (Y/N) dripping chocolate into her mouth sparked a vivid picture in the boy’s head, and he succumbed to his wild imagination.

Any other girl would have ignored their boyfriend’s problem and focused on their long task. They had no time to waste, and certainly not many ingredients to spare. But (Y/N) wasn’t any other person, and she couldn’t let such a moment pass her by. For that split second, she thanked her lucky stars the Sherriff had gone to work, and the couple had the whole house to themselves. Things were about to get messy, and the carpet in his bedroom was hard to clean.

“Are you, by chance, turned on right now, baby?” (Y/N) purred in his ear as she ran her hands up his chest. “Are you seriously thinking about sex when we have so much to do?”

“I, uh, well, you know,” he stammered. “Things happen.”

“And what happened, Stiles?” she continued, sliding her hands now downward and landing on his cock. She squeezed it softly, chuckling as he whined at the touch. “What got you all hot and bothered?”

“Oh, uh, n-nothing really,” he replied. (Y/N) unhanded him then, allowing him to let out a breath of relief. “You know us teenage boys and our hair-thin trigger.”

“Right,” the girl said. “Turn around, Stiles.”

“I’m quite good here,” Stiles chuckled awkwardly. “I just need a minute.”

“Stiles, baby,” she called. “Turn around. I need to see you.

Once he did, he regretted not turning around sooner. Behind him, (Y/N) stood in nothing but her underwear, a mischievous grin adorning her face. In one hand, she held the bottle of syrup that had started it all. In the other, a can of whipped cream. And all Stiles could do was groan as his already painfully hard erection pressed against the seam of his jeans.

“W-what are you doing, (Y/N)?” he swallowed hard. “We, uh… you, uh…”

“I told you, babe,” she smirked. “You need a break.”

Stiles didn’t need to be told twice as he crossed the room to reach her. He took the image of her in, running his eyes from her head to her toes, as though he had never seen her in that way before. And, well, to him, that’s what it always felt like. (Y/N) was everything he had ever dreamed of, and most of the time, he felt like he had fallen asleep and never woken up when he was with her.

“You seem very intrigued by this bottle of chocolate, Stiles,” she teased, giggling softly as he placed his hands on her hips. “Is there something you wanna tell me? Maybe a little kink we’ve never explored before.”

“I didn’t know I had it until today,” the boy confessed. “The thought just popped into my head, and now, well, it’s all I’ve been able to think about.”

“So, what do you want to do with this, baby?” (Y/N) whispered as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Tell me what you want.”

A groan escaped Stiles as she pressed her body against his, his hands exploring the exposed skin of her hips. The cupcakes were long forgotten, and all he could focus on was the excitement he felt to fulfill the fantasy he had dreamed of only a few minutes before. “Whatever you want,” he said. “I don’t care where you use it as long as I get to lick it off your body.”

“You’re giving me so much freedom,” she smiled. “Hope you don’t regret it later.”

“I don’t think I could ever regret anything that has to do with you, babe.”

“Well then, let’s start you off slow.” (Y/N) unhanded Stiles before letting a stream of chocolate fall into her mouth, allowing a bit to drip down her chin and neck. “Oh, no! I’ve made a mess of myself.”

Laughing at her overexaggerated acting, Stiles licked his lips before running his tongue from her neck up to her chin, reveling in the taste of her skin mixed with the chocolate. Mixing food with sex had never been something he had thought to do, but after the first taste, he wondered why it had taken him so long to do so.

The way (Y/N) sighed as he licked away the liquid made his cock twitch in his pants, yearning for a touch he knew would take time. And he didn’t mind. Especially after his girlfriend removed her bra and let the bottle of syrup drip down her chest, exciting him even further.

He seemed like a starved man as he feasted on the girl’s breasts, making sure not a single drop of chocolate was left. He lapped at her skin, traveling the expanse of her chest before landing on the hardened peaks of her breasts. He nipped and sucked as he teased her, chuckling softly as she moaned and threaded her fingers through his hair. Chocolate on (Y/N)’s skin shouldn’t have excited him as much as it did, but he would risk a cavity if it meant tasting her this way every chance he got.

Even though (Y/N) had been the one to initiate contact, it didn’t take long for Stiles to take control of the situation. As he kissed his way down her stomach, he hooked his fingers through the elastic of her underwear and pulled it off until she was completely exposed to him. Then, he took the bottle from her hand and let it drip on her skin until it reached her cunt. His eyes were trained on the drops of brown that stained her body, watching as it slowly moved.

Before it could reach the ground, Stiles licked it up, groaning as he tasted her wetness mixed with the sweetness of the chocolate. If he had ever questioned what the nectar of the gods tasted like, after that afternoon, he’d gotten his answer. He lapped at her core like a starving man, acting as though she was his first and last meal.

(Y/N) braced herself with the counter behind her as Stiles hooked one of her legs on his shoulder for better access to her cunt. He teased her clit with his tongue, the syrup long gone but the sweetness forever lingering. He circled the bundle of nerves with the tip, applying just enough pressure to have her panting and moaning.

“Fuck, baby,” she groaned. “I’m so close.”

All Stiles could do was send vibrations through her body with a chuckle. He wanted her to come undone in his mouth, to have her knees buckle under the weight of the orgasm he was giving her. Because, regardless of where he was lacking, the Stilinski boy was always giving.

He was relentless in his pursuit of her climax, sucking and flicking, waiting for the tell-tale signs that she was reaching her end. Signs that weren’t too far behind as he continued his attack. She threaded her fingers back into his hair, pulling at the strands while she pushed his head tight against her until, with a loud shriek of his name, she came.

She pulled him to his feet as she recovered, crashing her lips onto his. She tasted herself in his mouth and moaned at the mix with the chocolate. “That was…,” the girl panted with a laugh. “Who knew you’d be this excited over a little chocolate?”

“Well, you know I’ve always had a bit of a sweet tooth,” he grinned. “I’m just surprised it took this long for us to do something like this.”

“Oh, and we’re not done yet,” she said. In a swift move, (Y/N) flipped them over, pressing Stiled against the counter as she reached for the can of whipped cream behind them. “It’s your turn, baby.”

“What’re you…?”

Before he could continue, the girl’s hands were unbuttoning his pants and pulling them down his legs, his boxers following in tow. She smiled as his erection sprung free, red and wet from the anticipation. Poor thing looked like it was ready to burst. And who was she to deny it the touch it was yearning for?

With a playful smile on her face, (Y/N) took hold of the base of his cock, chuckling as he took in a sharp breath at the touch. She then squirted a line of cream on his length, licking the excess from the tip of the can before turning back to Stiles. The boy stared at her with giddy anticipation, trembling as she hovered over him. Her breath tickled his skin, making his body erupt in goosebumps as he waited for her to move.

And, as much as she wanted to toy with him, (Y/N) knew how long he had already been waiting for, and they still had so much to do. So, instead of making him work for it, she swirled the tip of her tongue around Stiles’ cockhead, making him grow weak at the knees. The taste alone was enough to make her want more.

She ran her tongue across his length, memorizing the feeling of his skin on her tongue, the mix of his pre with the silky sweet of the whipped cream, and the way Stiles bucked his hips forward. It was a mix she wanted to experience again, sooner rather than later.

Once she was satisfied with the cleanup job, (Y/N) finally engulfed her mouth around Stles’ cock, drawing out a loud groan from the boy. She knew he was not going to last long, but she would make them the best few minutes of his day.

(Y/N) started at a slow pace, burying him in the wetness of her mouth while she swirled her tongue around his shaft. But with the way Stiles was wriggling with every stroke, she sped up quickly. Her head moved up and down rapidly, one hand gripping the base of his cock while the other worked to massage his tightening balls.

“Oh, god, baby,” he croaked out. “Fuck, I’m almost there—don’t stop.”

And she wasn’t planning to. Instead, she kept her pace, letting him reach the back of her throat as she sucked her cheeks in. She bobbed her head until saliva was dripping down her chin, and her breath was being cut off. Just like he had done for her, she was working to reach his climax—that wasn’t too far behind.

All it took was a perfectly timed squeeze of his balls, and Stiles was stuttering forward, holding (Y/N)’s head as he emptied himself in her mouth. Strand after strand painted the inside of her mouth until there was nothing left, and with a satisfied grunt, he exited her mouth.

Still knelt on the floor, (Y/N) swallowed Stiles’ finish before looking directly into his eyes and squirting whipped cream into her mouth. She said, “Much better,” and stood up.

Stiles grabbed the sides of her face and kissed her roughly, sighing at their mixed tastes in his mouth. “That really was something else,” he smiled as he released her. “We have to try that again.”

“Tell you what,” she grinned. “If we finish these cupcakes on schedule, I can promise you a very sweet treat after.”

“Then why are we standing here?” Stiles exclaimed as he pulled up his pants. “Let’s get this done!”

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wooahaeruby · 6 months ago

Text

Chapter 20: Plans Within the Plans of Plans

Chapter Word Count: 4,918

TW 1) Jeonghan and DK are little shits 2) Minghao doesn't know how to knock 3) Drinking 4) Someone gets DRUGGED, YES, IT HAPPENS. 5) Someone gets threatened…it's complicated 6) Uhhhhhh, yeah, I'm tired. 7) if I forgot something, my bad

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Your alarm was going off, it was a lot brighter in here than what you remembered.

Did I forget to close the curtains in my room? Was all your semi-conscious brain could muster.

Cracking an eye open, you went to shift to find your phone but fell short at the weight around your body. Now your brain was awake and on high alert, eyes snapping open to be met by Joshua’s face twisting with minor annoyance, probably from being woken up. He made a groan as he stretched his legs out but his arms tightened around your midsection.

Honestly it was nice laying in his arms but your head had to be malfunctioning because you have a fucking boyfriend.

“Good morning!” Seokmin was stepping out from the hallway and you scrambled to remove yourself from Joshua’s hold. He was dressed in a simple gray suit for work, holding something – you saw a blouse you think? – as he made his way towards the kitchen.

“Ow fuck!” You stumbled off the couch and bashed your knee into the coffee table, falling onto the second couch as you clutched your leg.

“Sleep well you two? I slept amazing and it’s only six in the morning.”

Joshua was sitting up, a pouty frown spread on his face as he grumbled out. “Too early, shut up.”

Seokmin only smiled, something playful and devilish behind his eyes as he set his gaze on you. “I had Sona pick up something from your apartment for you to wear and she grabbed some toiletries.” He held up the hanger with a blouse and dress pants from your closet and another bag, probably holding some undergarments.

Quickly you stood and grabbed the clothes before running down the hall, wanting to get out and away from both of them. Standing at the sink, staring at yourself in the mirror, you let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding, trying to make sense of what the hell was happening.

Back track, come on.

You splashed some water on your face, wracking your brain the best you could.

Number one, you and Joshua went out yesterday to an arcade, had an amazing time, chatted for hours over pizza, then came back to the penthouse to watch movies.

Number two, you and Joshua fell asleep together on the couch and you fell asleep on top of him.

Number three, you didn’t…hate it. But you were definitely confused on how you were feeling, if it was actual feelings or simple adoration because Jeonghan was away and you were lonely.

Number four, YOU FELL ASLEEP ON JOSHUA, YOUR BOYFRIEND’S BEST FRIEND, AND SEOKMIN SAW YOU.

You were screwed, that’s was the conclusion you have come to. For now, you’d put on your work outfit, get ready for the day, and pray that Seokmin would not, under any circumstances, bring any of it up.

“So…” Seokmin didn’t really say anything until lunch, sitting in your office with the take out he ordered for the two of you. “What uh…What happened with you and Shua last night?”

Suddenly you weren’t hungry anymore.

“Uh- Last night? Nothing happened.” You stuttered out the words, quickly drinking down some of the water bottle he brought. “We went out, got pizza, then watched some movies.”

“Mhmm…” He nodded, drumming his fingers against the table top of your desk. “Nothing…weird?”

“Weird? Why would it be weird?” You cringed at the defense in your tone.

That spurred on some impish behavior from Seokmin.

“Why do you sound so defensive?” Tilting his head to the side, running his eyes over your face. “Something I should know about?”

“No! Nope, nothing at all, I’m not being defensive, you are just being a snoop.”

“Keep telling yourself that, hotshot.”

[Jeonghan 2:17 PM] How is the plan going?

Seokmin almost couldn’t contain the laughter that was bubbling in his chest at the text message.

[To Jeonghan 2:20 PM] Oh you know, Shua has been taking Mouse out each day this week once since he has been focusing on Pledis on Cheol’s orders. Totally haven’t caught them staring a little too long at each other. Kind sickening if you ask me, you sure you don’t want me to put a bullet through him? [Jeonghan 2:22 PM] Ah, I don’t think Mouse would be okay with that~ Did he take her to that one restaurant she likes? [To Jeonghan 2:25 PM] Yes Wednesday she said he took her to an art opening that Minghao invested in then dinner at the bistro you guys like Yesterday he picked her up from her apartment to go in a fucking picnic, wanted to punch him so bad. And today? Today he wants to take her to stargaze out on the house property. [Jeonghan 2:28] I’m going to vomit, who knew Shua could be a romantic? Try and convince them to go to Ruby. I think it's the push both of them need. [To Jeonghan 2:30 PM] That can be arranged.

Seokmin nearly skipped his way into Mouse’s office, seeing her leaned over her keyboard, a frown gracing her brow.

“Who the fuck signs their emails, ‘ lukewarm regards’ ? Has he signed off like that before?” She asked herself before she was clicking away at her computer.

“How’s my favorite girl?” He knocked his knuckles on the open door to her office, “What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Oh uh-” She whipped her head up, “I think nothing? Maybe just hanging around the house?”

“Good so we can go out to Ruby tomorrow?”

“Ruby? I mean, not saying we can’t, but why?”

He shrugged, slipping his hands into his pockets, strolling over to her desk. “Why not? I’ve had a long week, family has too, Hoon is gonna be behind the bar. Make it a group event.”

Seokmin rounded Mouse’s desk, leaning himself against the side of it. Mouse looked up at him, analyzing his expression, she had become really good at reading him since learning the big ‘secret’. Tilting his head, he softened his gaze, putting on his best ‘ totally innocent, totally not hiding anything’ face.

Her face contorted in thought but ultimately her shoulders dropped. “Fine, are you taking me home or is Shua?”

“I am, then you can pick up some stuff and just stay in Han’s room. Shua has a late meeting before your little date~”

Mouse reached out and slapped his arm which he recoiled and whined at, not stopping the laughter from coming out. “It isn’t a date!”

“It isn’t a date.” He mocked but got hit again, this time harder. “Stop, stop! I am only teasing!”

“God, you are worse than Gyu and Chan.”

“If I was really like the two of them, you’d be kicking their asses, but you like me the most~” Leaning down in her face, she gave a disgusted grimace, pushing his chin up and face away from her.

“I’d still kick your ass and I have all of them on speed dial.”

“I’m fine, Hannie, Shua has been good company.” You and Seokmin arrived at the house not long before Jeonghan called.

“ Was the art gallery nice?”

A shy smile spread on your lips and you shook your head.

The art exhibit was amazing, Minghao always had a good eye for art and the fact he helped endorse the artist was even better. The pieces were beautiful and having the opportunity to spend time with Minghao and Joshua outside the house but in an interesting environment was great. At the end of the night, Minghao went off for dinner with the artist while Joshua took you to a small Italian bistro. He explained that it was a favorite place of him, Jeonghan, and Seungcheol since before SVT was together. They had helped keep it alive during hard times for the owner since they enjoyed it so much.

“It was beautiful and very thought provoking. Minghao got the artists to talk about some of the pieces with me then Joshua took me to a small Italian place he says you guys like a lot. I can see why you three like it.”

“ Mmm, I was hoping to take you there one day, but Shua will do until I get back.” Hearing Jeonghan hum again, he continued on. “ Speaking of Shua, how has hanging out with him been? You two usually don’t get time to talk together without someone there.”

Oh that wasn’t a conversation you wanted to have.

Things have been…complicated mentally for you.

Spending time with Joshua was refreshing, calm, maybe even captivating. Joshua never was over the top like Jeonghan was at times, he was fine with comfortable silence while Jeonghan and you liked to go on and on about any topic that came to mind. While they were very similar, they couldn’t be more different. Two very different sides of the same coin.

On top of that, you could see Joshua was flirting with you, not as blind as you were with Jeonghan. There was guilt that riddled your heart and mind because you are in a relationship. You couldn’t understand the feelings you were experiencing and you couldn’t bring yourself to burden your boyfriend with them when he wasn’t in town to have an actual, adult conversation about it.

Though…last night when Joshua took you home after the dorkiest picnic you’ve ever experienced, you knew you were absolutely fucked.

“ Did you have fun?” He asked, resting his arm over your shoulder as he walked to your door. “It wasn’t a whole lot but it's always nice to just sit, eat, and talk with you. It’s been my favorite part of the last few days.” His words were sweet, laced with flirtation.

There were…butterflies in your stomach.

“It was nice, Shua. I never had a picnic where I could sit and simply watch the sunset between the good food and the company.” Answering honestly, pulling out your keys to unlock the door as the two of you stopped before it.

“I’ve really enjoyed the time we’ve spent together.” Removing his arm from your shoulder, Joshua leaned himself against the door frame, watching as you unlocked the deadbolt and the knob. “It’s been very refreshing in comparison to work.”

Lifting your gaze to his face, you took an unexpected deep breath in.

Soft, longing eyes were staring back at you. His head was leaned up against the frame, little to no tension in his shoulders and jaw. Hell there was a faint smile tugging at the edges of his lips that sent your stomach into summersaults.

“You should get inside, Mouse.”

“Huh- Yeah- yeah, I will.” You don’t know what possessed you but you stepped closer to his, placing a hand on one of his cheeks while you gave a feather-like kiss to the other. “Have a goodnight, Shua.”

“He has been nothing short of a gentleman as he likes to flaunt.” You swallowed down the anxiety and guilt. “Hey, let me get off the phone, your room is a mess and I want to clean up a little since I’m staying the night here.”

“ Sorry about that~ I was in a rush.”

Rolling your eyes, you smiled. “I know, I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? Promise.”

“I know you will. Have a good night, love.”

“Goodnight, Hannie.”

When the call disconnected, you sighed, running your hands over your face.

“It’s fine, everything is fine, you only kissed Joshua’s cheek, you have kissed some of the other guys cheeks before too.” Trying to reassure yourself, maybe even justify some of it to ease your mental suffering, you sat on the edge of Jeonghan’s bed. “As long as you keep to yourself and not do anything else, you’ll be fine. You can talk to Han when he gets back and figure everything out and explain that it meant nothing.”

“What meant nothing?” Minghao’s voice at the now open door had you yelling out before tossing a throw pillow at him.

“Sound, Hao! Make sound when you move! You and Junhui make no sound!”

Ignoring the pillow, he stepped over it and shuffled in, sitting himself beside you on the bed. “I knocked.”

“Then you just opened the door?”

“Force of habit.” He turned his face to glance at you, leaning back on his hands. “And I wanna ask again; What meant nothing?”

Letting out a sigh, you bounced your leg, shrugging. “I don’t really wanna talk about it right now. It’s complicated and I want to handle it on my own first.”

“Does it have to do with someone at work? Do you need help?”

“No- It’s personal. Nothing to concern yourself over.”

“Mm.” Minghao hummed, leaning his head back. “Are you hungry? Mingyu is making a taco spread.”

That was the one thing about Minghao you loved, he knew when not to press issues.

“You know what? I’m absolutely starving.”

You really needed to stop Seokmin from helping with your outfits.

He said for the club you needed to look sexy, show a little, give a lot – whatever that meant –, but still be at least somewhat comfortable. The previous day before heading to the house, Seokmin had a field day in your closet, sorting through possible clothing combinations while you gathered other items.

“He is so lucky I like this dress.” You grumbled, pulling the outfit out of your bag, along with the shoes and pouch of accessories.

Seokmin’s choice for the night was a signature little black dress you ordered online a couple weeks back. The base was a short, asymmetrical hemmed, mid-thigh length dress. The bodice had a deep v-cut and and spaghetti straps, covered in a thin black mesh with sleeves that reached your wrists. You agreed to pair it with strappy black block heeled shoes as long as he agreed to handle your change of shoes as a precaution. The jewelry you picked was dainty and silver, much like the first time you went to Ruby. For makeup and hair were minimal. Just enough to cover blemishes and tame any hair that didn’t want to cooperate. Nothing too crazy.

The final step was the black spandex so you weren’t surprising yourself or anyone else with a nice show of your barely covered ass in the underwear you had to wear for the dress.

Stepping into the living room, Seokmin, Seungcheol, Minghao, and Joshua were waiting, all chatting about something quietly.

“Alright boys, let me get drunk and sleep it off until Monday.”

“Ohh~ Look at you, hotshot!” Seokmin had a shimmy to his step as he walked over, taking your hand and spinning you around. “Gorgeous, I want a picture of you. Gotta send it to Jeonghan.”

You laughed, giving him a pose with a peace sign, kicking your foot up some. “Thank you, thank you. I have you to thanks for the outfit~”

“No one will be able to take their eyes off you.”

“Easy with the compliments.” Seungcheol snorted, rolling his eyes. “She already has a big enough ego.”

Setting your eyes on the leader, you narrowed your eyes, taking in the half undone black button up and black slacks. For once he had his hair down, messy and in his face.

“Says the man that nearly preens when someone compliments or praises him. Have a kink for that or are you just a bottom?”

“Bottom? Would you like to find out?”

Opening your mouth to reply, Joshua stepped in, holding his hands up between the two of you. “Easy now, Jeonghan isn’t here to handle your fights and I don’t want to.” He was dressed similarly to Seungcheol, the only difference was his hair pushed back from his face and the sleeves of his gray button up were rolled up to his elbows.

Ignoring Seungcheol’s narrow eyed glare, you stepped towards the door, feeling a hand land on your lower back and an arm over your shoulder.

“Let’s get out of here.” Seokmin said from your right, pulling you close by your shoulder while Joshua was a quiet force guiding you by the back.

Unlike last time, you entered in through the back door and slid right up to the VIP area. You had practically fallen into Mingyu’s hug when he called out to you from one of the couches, having missed spending time together since he had been busy. Vernon, unlike most nights from what you have heard, was lounging with Seungkwan on another couch, both with a drink in hand.

Wonwoo came up from the stairs and sat beside Mingyu. Seungcheol and Joshua were standing near the overhang, looking down at the randoms on the dance floor as they danced. Minghao and Junhui sat at a high table. You did see Jihoon and Chan downstairs behind the bar when Seokmin split off to get drinks. Mingyu was able to tell you that Soonyoung was downstairs on the floor, letting loose.

It took the first drink that Seokmin got you – a concoction Jihoon threw together for fun from what he said – before you were heading downstairs to find Soonyoung. The DJ tonight was good, whoever they were could mix a beat well and hype a crowd but you had a bias, Vernon mixed better. Soonyoung was drunk when you found him but he was upright and energetic, taking you by the hands to dance with you.

“Ohh, you have eyes on you~” Soonyoung snickered, flicking his eyes up towards the balcony before meeting your gaze. “They have been for a while, Mousy~”

Curiously, you peeked up only meeting the solo dark, heavy gaze of Joshua. Leaning over the balcony, a tight grip on the short glass cup in his hand, he stared down at you, expression unreadable. His head was cocked to the side and he raised a brow when he noticed your eyes on him.

“Mousy Mouse~” Soonyoung grabbed your attention back and a lopsided smirk spread on his face. “Is there something you're not telling me~?”

“Me? No.” You rolled your eyes, patting his cheek. “Let’s get you some water so you don’t hate everything tomorrow, lightweight.”

One stop for water from Jihoon for both of you and a trip upstairs later had Soonyoung drunk rambling to Seungkwan and Vernon who took pity on him. You absolutely avoided Joshua on your way back downstairs, feeling his eyes following you the entire time you moved about the VIP area and down the stairs. You slid up to the edge of the bar with ease, signaling to Jihoon and Chan to focus on other patrons while you took a moment. Letting your eyes scan the bar, you took note of groups of girls and guys, loud chatter mixing with the music with the bass vibrating the floor.

There was a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach. It raised bile to burn the back of your throat but you didn’t know what was messing with you.

“You want something now?” Jihoon asked, crossing his arms and resting them on the bar in front of you. “What's with the face?”

“Just a vibe, can’t really figure out what it is, probably nothing. My gut instincts aren't the best.” Giving him a shrug, you matched his posture. “Can you get me another one of those concoctions?”

“Can do,” He motioned for you to come closer and you leaned over the counter, letting him whisper in your ear. “Get Shua, we need an extra pair of hands down here. I’ll have the drink ready when you get back so no one touches it.”

Then he was off and you made quick work of the stairs when the guard let you through.

“Shua,” Still standing at the balcony, now with his back to the crowd, speaking with Mingyu, Joshua turned his attention to you. “Hoon needs you behind the bar.”

“Mm,” He patted a hand on Mingyu’s shoulder before following you down, dropping his empty glass in the dishwasher rack when he got behind the bar, washing his hands quickly.

Jihoon only took a few minutes to place a bright red colored drink in front of you, snickering at your raised brow. “I call it the Mouse Special.”

“So original, how many shots?”

“Take a sip and find out.” He winked and walked off, falling into rhythm with Chan and Joshua once more.

You stood and watched, instantly cringing at the first sip of the strong drink. There was a lot in there, way more than you expected, but you were glad you ate earlier and had the water not that long ago. The three moved well around one another, having already seen Jihoon and Chan work, but seeing Joshua work behind the bar, the calm in the chaos that was his friends was compelling.

He worked through customers with ease, making idle conversation as he made a show of pouring shots and drinks, maybe even flirting some to get better tips from the woman that ordered. There was a knot in your stomach forming alongside the unexplained nausea.

Why the hell was he flirting with-

Nope, do not finish that thought. You told yourself, quickly drinking down the cocktail Jihoon had provided. Shut yourself up, drink your drink, and get back on the floor.

You don’t know how you caught it, but you did.

Swaying to the music at the edge of the crowd, people-watching between the bar and the dance floor, you caught someone slipping something into a woman's drink. Chan, Jihoon, and Joshua all were near a crowd for a bachelorette group on the middle to far side of the bar, not fully focused on where the dickbag was. The woman in question was in a heated conversation with who you assumed were her friends, smiling bright with her eyes nowhere near her drink.

You were moving before you comprehended it and slid up to the bar, fitting yourself between where she was and where the guy was standing.

Making a show of leaning over the bar to gaze down at the boys before ‘noticing’ the drink in front of you, you played up intoxication and smiled wide.

“Oh, is this yours?” You pointed to the drink – a colorful tropic one from what you could determine from the coconut smell – then to the man. “A Rum Punch?”

He seemed startled by your sudden outburst, loud over the music so you could hear him. “Uh- Yeah.” Whoever this idiot was, he probably never had to deal with much hassle in his plans.

“Do you like it? You drank some of it! The guys here make amazing drinks!” You picked up the glass and handed it over to him, pushing out a fake, obnoxious giggle.

“I- No. I’m good, I’m going to take my drink slow.” He leaned away from you but you continued to push the drink closer to him.

“Not even another sip? You are gonna let your drink get warm? It’s already starting to feel like it…” Faking a pout, you glanced between him and the drink.

He leaned away more, ready to take a step back, but you took the time to strike. You giggled like the stereotypical drunk girl in the movies, about to say something, before accidentally pouring the drink all down the front of his shirt when you accidentally stumbled. Asshole yelled out in surprise, jumping away and staring down in disbelief at the mess you caused.

“Oh my god!” You shouted, reaching over the bar to grab a handful of napkins. One look down the bar had all three of their eyes on you but Joshua was approaching quickly. “Let me help you with that, I’m so fucking clumsy sometimes-” You dabbed the front of his shirt, muttering apologies before grabbing his shirt and pulling until you were nearly touching noses.

Dropping the act quickly, you narrowed your eyes and set your jaw. “Listen to me and listen to me well, asshole. You aren’t as fucking slick as you think you are. If I ever see you back here again, I’ll string you by your balls and hang you outside as a warning for all the scumbags like you that try and step foot in here, do you understand?”

“Who the fuck-”

You don’t know what came over you, there was an untamed anger that had you grabbing him by the throat and squeezing hard. “I asked, do you understand? ” Beneath your hand, you could feel him swallow, taking in a strained breath that you were cutting off.

“Y-Yes.” He barely managed to get the word out.

“And if you ever try to slip anyone something in their drink ever again, I’ll make sure you never see the light of day again.”

You kept the hand on his throat while you dug into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, tossing it on the counter. Once he gave a nod, terror behind his eyes, you released your grip and pushed him back before he was running out of there with his tail between his legs.

“Mouse-”

Taking a deep breath, calming some of the rage that was built up inside of you, you turned back to the bar, opening the wallet and taking the ID out. Your hands were shaking as you closed the wallet and pushed it towards him. “I need to talk to Cheol. It’s a small mess on the floor over here.”

Leaving Joshua in your wake without any explanation, you took the stairs two at a time and clocked Seungcheol sitting with Mingyu and Wonwoo. Stepping up, you sat on the ottoman before the three of them, clearing your throat, interrupting the conversation.

“I need you to do something.”

Seungcheol frowned, turning to say something but stopped when he saw your tremoring hands in your lap.

“What happened-” Mingyu leaned towards you but you held up the ID between two fingers.

“I saw him spiking someone's drink. I handled that part. I need you to handle the rest.”

Cheol looked taken aback, shaking his head in confusion. “Handled- What did you do, Mouse?”

“Probably something stupid.” Wonwoo took the ID from your hand as you spoke, taking in another deep breath and forcing it out. “Don’t let him do it again, please.”

Their leader stayed silent for a moment, keeping his eyes set on you as Wonwoo pulled out his phone and made quick work on the screen. “We’ll handle it.”

“Thank you.”

You stood up, making your way downstairs to the bathroom, and locking yourself in one of the stalls to shake the still present fury and anxiety.

“What happened?” Joshua was pulled aside by Seungcheol the moment he stepped foot upstairs when Jihoon didn’t need him anymore.

“Where is she?”

“Still in the bathroom last I checked, I have someone in the hallway by the door just in case. Answer my question, man, what happened?”

Joshua was trying to wrap his head around what he saw.

He had his attention on the bachelorette party when he heard yelling further down the bar followed by Mouse’s voice in a similar shout. There wasn’t…fear in her eyes when he caught her reaching over the counter for napkins, rather something dark, anger if he could think of a simple word off the top of his head.

Joshua got there when she was already in the guy’s face and her threat to him even had a shiver running down his own spine.

“ Listen to me and listen to me well, asshole. You aren’t as fucking slick as you think you are. If I ever see you back here again, I’ll string you by your balls and hang you outside as a warning for all the scumbags like you that try and step foot in here, do you understand?”

Then Mouse choking him? Where the hell did that fury come from?

“Then she went off saying she needed to talk to you. I was going to ask Wonwoo to get the camera feed pulled up and see what all happened because she didn’t say anything to me.”

“Already ahead of you.” Wonwoo stepped forward, turning his phone screen to show that the man did spike the drink and Mouse was forcing the drink towards him until dumping it down his front.

“Did she-”

“Choke him? Yeah.” Wonwoo turned the phone back, pulling up another camera feed to see where she was previously. “My guess she saw him from where she was on the edge of the dance floor while looking around and not two seconds later she was in his face and threatening him.”

“She definitely scared him off.”

“I have someone dealing with the guy.” Mingyu slid into the conversation, coming out of the office just down the hall.

The thought of someone almost getting drugged in Ruby made him sick. That was one of the drug types they all agreed to never deal with, nothing that could aid with the rising issues with assault on anyone at bars and clubs.

“Where’s Mouse? Why are you huddled up?” Seokmin’s voice had Joshua’s blood running cold and even Seungcheol didn’t look the best.

“Is Sona here?” Joshua ignored the questions.

“Back entrance still.”

“I’m going to have her get Mouse.”

“Get Mouse-? Hey, don’t ignore me!”

Joshua was down the stairs and out the backdoor to find Sona. Luckily she wasn’t far and her concern was hidden behind a raised brow. “Sir?”

“I’ll explain later but can you get Mouse out of the bathroom and bring her upstairs?”

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milkytheholy1 · 5 months ago

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Day 20: Team Awesome

"Why is Raph sulking on the couch?" Leonardo had asked, wandering into their shared living room, observing a curled-up Raph; steam rising off of his green skin.

Mikey, who was cowering away in the kitchen, turned to Leo with sorrow in his eyes, "I did a terrible thing." he muttered. Perplexed, Leo nudged Mikey to say more, but the young teen only rolled his eyes, "Okay, well, it all started when..."

Leo stared at his brother, "Erm, Mikey?" no response, "Are you doing that thing where you trail off into a flashback? You know you can't do that in real life, right? It's important to me that you know that."

No response.

But for all who want to know, the young master Michael was besting his older brother in a video game tournament. The two were known to be the best thumb tappers in all of the sewers, so it was only natural the pair wanted to host a competition to see who was the best.

It was a close game, though it had been a 'close game' for nearly four hours. The game itself? Just a simple brawl type, something Donnie had salvaged from an abandoned arcade in lower Queens. It had only been up and running for two days before Raph had conquered a new high score. From that point on it had been an all-out war between the four brothers to outdo one and another. Leo had left first, saying he had more important things to do, then it was Donatello, claiming he had to break some scientific theories.

That had only left Mikey and Raph, competing until the other failed. They'd only stop for an occasional food break, but even then, it would only last for a second before they were back on the machine.

"Ya better just give up now, Mikey. Ain't no way ya beatin' me!" Raph boasted, knocking his body weight against his brother. The small teen wobbled before stabilising himself, "Hey, no fair, man! That's cheating!"

Four hours turned into five hours and five hours turned into seven. Donnie had walked back into the lair to grab a glass of water, he turned his attention from his battling brothers to the time on the oven.

3.01 am.

Sighing, Donnie waltzed up to the two in a sleep-deprived daze, "Shouldn't you guys call it quits, it's getting pretty late."

"Stay out of it, nerd-atello. I'm not quittin' till Mikey fails."

"And I'm not quitting till Raph fails!"

Donnie rolled his eyes and went back to the dark depths of his lab.

----

"So you stayed up all night to win a stupid game?" Leo interjected, arms folded over his chest, "What's new?" he remarked. Mikey shook his head, "It's not just that, bro. You see..."

----

Mikey was the first to yawn, sparking some attention from Raph, "Uh ohhh, looks like ya gettin' tired there, Mike. Ya better head off to bed."

"And leave you to get the high score? No way, dude! I'm staying up all night to beat your butt!" Mikey declared, forcing back another yawn. Another hour had passed, both boys were feeling completely dead on the inside, slow eyes barely blinking as they mindlessly pressed buttons. And that's when it happened, Raph, who at this point was fighting the battle one-handed while his other hand lay under his chin, had slipped. His head fell, quickly hitting the thumb-pad and ultimately losing a point in the game.

This now meant Raph could no longer get the high score.

Mikey jumped up in realisation, screaming at the top of his lungs, "I did it! I DID IT! In your face, Raph! Suck it!" he started doing a little victory dance. Raph scowled, he was suddenly full of energy. Grabbing the machine in a violent grasp, he began shaking it, "No fair, I fell asleep! I want a rematch!"

"Nu-uh, I'm retiring as the ultimate champion."

"Ya can't just do that?"

"I believe it says so right here!" Mikey laughed, pointing to his butt. Raph growled and sulked away to the couch, giving Mikey the silent treatment.

----

"So now you understand the terrible thing I've done." Mikey solemnly said, head down and shoulders slumped. Leonardo held back a laugh, Mikey clearly felt guilty, but Leo reminded him that at the end of the day, Mikey used his skill and some luck and won fairly. He did suggest apologising to Raph with some pizza and scary movies, which Mikey happily obliged with.

#tmntember2024 #tmntember #tmnt2012artchallenge #tmnt 2012 #fandom #fan #fanfiction #fanfic #tmnt #oneshot #reader #teenage mutant ninja turtles #12yearsoftmnt2012

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matttgirlies · 9 months ago

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Matt & Me🎀

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

a story heavily based on Priscilla Presley’s Book “Elvis & Me” based in the 1950’s - 1970’s.

fem! reader x singer! matt

disclaimer!! - in no way am i saying matt would ever support or do these kind of things, for the sake of the book certain unethical things do happen at times.

warnings - mentions of drug use

y/nn = your nickname for any confusion🩷

Chapter 11

Matt Sturniolo created his own world; only in his own environment did he feel secure, comfortable, and protected. A genuine camaraderie was created at Graceland. We lived as one big family, eating, talking, arguing, joking, playing, and traveling together.

Although I became friends with the guys in Matt’s retinue, he never let me, or anyone else, forget that I was his girl. I was never to get too close or become too familiar with any of the regulars.

One evening, after we came home from a movie, we said good night to everyone and went upstairs. Returning to the kitchen a few minutes later to get something to eat, I found Jerry Schilling, who’d just started working for Matt, making himself a snack. We started talking. A few minutes later, Matt appeared.

“What the hell are you two doing down here?” he shouted at us.

Intimidated, Jerry said, “Well, Matt, we were just talking. I was asking her how she felt, because she didn’t feel well this afternoon.”

“I came down to get something to eat,” I explained.

“y/nn, you don’t need to be roaming around here late at night,” he said, angrily ordering me upstairs.

Behind me, I could hear him lashing out at Jerry. “If you want to keep this job, son, you mind your own business. If there’s anyone who’s going to ask her how she feels, it’ll be me. You better mind your own goddamn business.”

I liked Jerry. He was warm, sincere, and very personable; just a couple of years older than I, he was one of the few people who I could relate to. But from that time on, it was a dodging match every time we’d run into each other. Now Jerry and I laugh about the “good old days” when we reminisce.

Most of the boys who worked for Matt had been around from the beginning and they knew all about him—his sense of humor, his sensitivity, and his temper. He stripped himself bare in front of them, and they accepted him for what he was.

Yet working for Matt was a twenty-four-hour-a-day job, and the boys were at his beck and call constantly. They played when he played and slept when he slept. It took a certain kind of personality to put up with his demands, whether they made sense or not.

“Come on, y/nn, let’s go to Los Angeles. I’ll show you where I film movies.,” he said one afternoon when we’d only been up for a few hours. He called downstairs and told Alan to alert everyone that he wanted to leave within the hour.

Alan said, “Okay, Boss. I think Richard and Gene are still sleeping. I’ll give ’em a call and tell ’em to come right over.”

“Their lazy asses are still sleeping?” Matt asked. “I’ve been up for two goddamn hours. They should have been over here by now. Alan, from now on, when I call down for my breakfast, call the boys and tell them I’m up and to be ready for anything, and that may include me not even coming downstairs. I just want them here.”

Demanding? Yes, but Matt could be just as generous. By today’s standards the boys’ salaries were not high—the average paycheck was $250 a week—but if the boys ever felt the pinch by the end of the month, they would go to Matt. They’d ask him if he could help them out with a down payment on a house or the first and last months’ payments on an apartment. Matt always came through for them, lending them the one thousand or five thousand or ten thousand dollars they asked for. He was rarely if ever paid back.

There also was no limit to the expensive gifts he gave them—television consoles for Christmas, bonus checks, Cadillac convertibles, Mercedes-Benzes. If he heard someone was sad or depressed, he loved to surprise them with a gift, usually a brand-new car. When he gave to one, he would usually end up giving to all.

James didn’t have much respect for the guys. He said Matt just gave and gave and gave, and they took and took and took. He’d say, “Son, we have to save.” Matt would answer, “It’s only money, Dad. I just have to go out and make more.”

James resented the regulars acting as if Graceland was their personal club. They’d go into the kitchen at any hour and order anything they wanted. Naturally, everyone ordered something different. The cooks worked night and day keeping them happy. James felt, “To hell with the boys. Their main concern should be Matt.”

What was really outrageous was that the regulars were ordering sirloin steaks or prime ribs while Matt usually ate hamburgers or peanut butter and banana sandwiches.

I wasn’t too popular around Graceland when I started reorganizing the kitchen. I set down a policy of having one menu per meal, and anyone who didn’t like what was on it could go to a local restaurant. This new edict resulted in much grumbling from the guys, but the cooks were relieved, and James sanctioned my decision, announcing, “It’s about time someone organized the meals. It was beginning to look like we were feeding half of Boston.”

Matt was the boss, the provider, and the power. Both the boys and I had to protect him from people who annoyed or irritated him and were no longer in his favor. Before coming down for the evening, he’d have me call downstairs to check who was there. I’d run down the guests, aware that certain names would strike him wrong.

“Shit,” he’d say, his mood destroyed. “What’s he want? Bring me some more bad news?” He’d stay up in his room rather than spend an evening with someone he didn’t like. There was one particular regular who had incurred his disfavor, and Matt told everyone he didn’t want him around. “Don’t let him through those goddamn gates!” Matt ordered. “All I have to do is look at his face and I get depressed.” Matt barred him from Graceland for a number of years, saying, “If he changes his morbid attitude, maybe I’ll change my mind.” His perceptions were correct, as these “friends” eventually betrayed him.

Matt and James kept some of their relatives at a distance because, as Matt explained to me, they’d shunned him when he was growing up, ridiculing him as a sissy, a mama’s boy. Mary Lou stood up for Matt and told his tormentors to go their own way. Angrily, she had said, “Don’t bother us with these accusations.”

Then fame and fortune hit, and suddenly all the kinfolk came around, begging for jobs or crying that they needed help. Sometimes Matt got upset, charging, “The only time they visit is with their hand out. It’d be nice if they’d come around just to see how I was doing. But hell no, it’s always, ‘Ah, Matt, I could use a little extra cash. Could you help me out?’ Hell, I’ll bet when I’m dead and gone, they’ll still be taking advantage.” But Matt ended up slipping each of them a hundred dollars or more every time they came around. If it had been up to James, he would have gotten rid of every one of them. But Matt kept saying, “No, Dad, they don’t have any place to go. They couldn’t work anywhere. Keep them here.”

From the beginning of his success, Matt put many family members on salary, and all had titles. James was his business manager; Patsy, his personal secretary; uncles Vester Sturniolo and Johnny and Travis Smith, and cousin Harold Lloyd, gate guards; cousins Billy, Bobby, and Gene, personal aides; and then there was Tracy Smith, who seemed to go from brother to brother for support. Matt took care of everyone.

I remember one night at Graceland when Matt came back to the kitchen and saw Tracy pacing the floor. “Hey, Tracy,” he said, “How ya doing, man?” Tracy, his hands in his pockets, could hardly look Matt in the eye. “I don’t know, Matt,” he sighed. “What do ya mean, you don’t know? Everyone knows how they’re doin’, man.”

Tracy, shifting back and forth, mumbled, “I got my nerves in the dirt, Matt.” Matt staggered back, laughing. “Nerves in the dirt! Hell, I never heard it expressed like that before. You need some money, Tracy?”

Again, Tracy just shifted back and forth, as Matt called Nate over and told him to give Tracy a bill. A big smile covered Tracy’s lined face as he happily took his hundred dollars and walked out the door.

Matt knew that having his nerves in the dirt was Tracy’s way of saying he was down and out—and worried sick about it. He never forgot that phrase. “Poor ol’ Matt,” he’d say. “I’ll never forget the look on his face that night, poor ol’ guy.”

That was Matt—always caring, always sensitive to everyone’s needs, even while presenting a macho image to his fans and friends.

Anything I could think of doing for him, I did. I made sure Graceland was always warm and inviting, with the lights turned low, as he preferred them, the temperature in his bedroom set to his exact desire (freezing), and the kitchen filled with the aroma of his favorite meals.

Every night before dinner was served, I came downstairs first, checked with the maids to see that his food was just the way he liked it—his mashed potatoes creamily whipped, plenty of cornbread, and his meat burnt to perfection. I always had candles on the dining room table to create a romantic atmosphere despite the fact that we always ate with several of the regulars.

I loved babying Matt. He had a little-boy quality that could bring out the mother instinct in any woman, a beguiling way of seeming utterly dependent. It was this aspect of his charm that made me want to hold him, shower him with affection, protect him, fight for him, and yes, even die for him. I went to extremes in taking care of him, from cutting his steak at dinner to making sure his water glass was always filled. I enjoyed pampering and spoiling him and found myself jealous of others vying for his attention and approval.

But I didn’t always receive his approval. If something went wrong with his dinner, Matt blew up. “Why isn’t this steak done? Why didn’t you make sure the maids cooked it right? If you’d have done your job, it wouldn’t have turned out like this.” Obviously something else was wrong, and I didn’t recognize it at the time. Because of the continuous pressures and problems in Matt’s life, all magnified by taking prescribed drugs, little things would set him off. I took responsibility for everything in his life and always took it all too personally.

I wanted to be with Matt as much as I could, but while going to the movies or the fairgrounds every night might have been a wonderful way for him to relax, it posed an enormous problem for me. Often I wouldn’t get home until 5 or 6 a.m., and I’d have to be at school two hours later. Sometimes I never went to sleep. When I did, I could barely make it out of bed. I would lie there trying to drum up the strength to face the day, Matt making it even harder by suggesting that I sleep in and cut classes. It would have been so easy to go along with his suggestion, but hanging over me was the agreement I’d made with my parents. They trusted me and even though I was letting them down, I still had to keep up the facade.

Day after day I drove to school, attended classes till noon, then returned to Graceland to slip back into bed and cuddle next to Matt, who was still sound asleep. When he awoke at 3 or 4 p.m., I might never have left his side for all he knew. I was there to give him his usual order of orange juice, a Spanish omelet, home-fried potatoes, a mere two pounds of bacon, and—first and foremost—his black coffee.

Everyone who knew Matt was aware that it took him at least two to three hours to wake up fully. Asking him to make a decision, even a simple one such as what movie he wanted to see that night, was ill-advised. He was just too groggy and irritable from the sleeping pills, which were causing him to sleep as many as fourteen hours a day. It seemed only natural for him to take some Dexedrine to wake up.

I was always concerned about his intake of sleeping pills. His horror of insomnia, compounded with a family history of compulsive worrying, caused him to down three or four Placidyls, Seconals, Quaaludes, or Tuinals almost every night—and often it was a combination of all four. When I expressed my concern, he just picked up the medical dictionary, always near at hand on his night table.

“In here is the explanation for every type of pill on the market, their ingredients, side effects, cures, everything about them,” he assured me. “There isn’t anything I can’t find out.”

It was true. He was always reading up on pills, always checking to see what was on the market, and which ones had received FDA approval. He referred to them by their medical names and knew all their ingredients. Like everyone else around him, I was impressed with his knowledge and certain that he was an expert. One would think he had a degree in pharmacology. He always assured me that he didn’t need pills, that he could never become dependent on them. This difference in opinion resulted in many serious confrontations; I always compromised my integrity and ended up taking his viewpoint.

I began taking sleeping pills and diet pills too. Two Placidyls for him and one for me. A Dexedrine for him and one for me. Eventually Matt’s consumption of pills seemed as normal to me as watching him eat a pound of bacon with his Spanish omelet. I routinely took “helpers” in order to get to sleep after wild rides at the fairgrounds or early-morning jam sessions. And I routinely took more “helpers” when I woke up in order to maintain the fast pace and, more importantly, to study for my final exams.

During the last month before finals, I started popping more dexies than before. They seemed to give me the energy I needed to get through classes and homework. Every free moment was devoted to cramming a whole semester’s work into a few weeks. But my concentration was scattered; the strain of life at Graceland had finally caught up with me.

I had already been warned by Sister Adrian that in order for me to graduate, I had to pass all my subjects. During a talk in her office, I wanted desperately to confide in her and explained how hard it was to maintain my grade level with the late hours I kept: But how could I tell that to a nun?

I had no real goals after graduation, but I did sometimes dream of becoming a dancer or possibly enrolling in an art academy. Now I realize that I was deeply influenced by Matt’s casual attitude toward continued schooling. He figured I didn’t need it and I agreed. Just being with him most of the time would provide an education—not to mention experience—that no school could give me. He wanted me to be his totally, free to go to him in an instant if he needed me.

That sounded great to me. I’d never planned on a future without Matt. Therefore, while my classmates were deciding which colleges to apply to, I was deciding which gun to wear with what sequined dress. I was tempted to say to Sister Adrian, “Oh, by the way, Sister, does gunmetal gray go with royal blue sequins?” With that attitude it was no surprise that I was still woefully unprepared for my most hated subject, algebra, the week before finals.

On the day of the test, I sat in the crowded classroom, hyper from downing a dexy, trying to work out the problems. Despite my effort, I knew there was no way I was going to pass. I started to panic. I had to graduate. I had an obligation to Matt and to my parents, who I knew would yank me out of Graceland the minute I failed this test. I glanced at the girl next to me—and at her completed test paper. It’s my last resort, I thought. I’m going for it. I was not willing to face the consequences of being sent home for failing this test.

Her name was Janet and she was a straight A student. I tapped her on the shoulder and flashed my brightest smile, whispering, “Are you a Matt fan?” Taken aback by my question, Janet nodded yes. “How would you like to come to one of his parties?” I asked.

“Are you kidding?” she replied. “I’d love to.”

“Well, I know a way that it can be arranged.”

I eyed her test paper and explained. Janet instantly grasped my dilemma and, without a word, slid her paper to the edge of her desk. Now I had a full view of her answers. I spent the rest of the hour furiously copying them down and I not only passed, but I got an A on that test.

I hadn’t expected Matt to make much of my graduation. His attitude was, “A diploma’s not that important; life’s experiences are.” But to my surprise, he really looked forward to it and arranged to have a big party for our friends after the ceremony. There he presented a beautiful red Corvair, my first car.

On the big night he was like a proud parent. Nervous about what he should wear to the ceremony, he finally settled on a dark blue suit, and I put on my navy blue gown. I couldn’t possibly keep the cap on over that mass of teased hair.

Matt had a limo waiting for us out front. But there was one problem: I did not want him to come to the actual ceremony. It would attract a lot of attention, and all eyes would be focused on him instead of the graduating seniors.

Finally I worked up enough courage to ask him to wait outside, and explained why. Smiling his funny little grin, the one that came to his lips when he was hurt or upset, he agreed without hesitation. “I hadn’t thought about that,” he said. “I won’t come in. I’ll just be outside in the car waiting for you. That way I’ll kinda be there.”

And that was what he did. I accepted my diploma with mixed emotions. I would have loved for him to have been watching, but only I knew what a physical, emotional, and mental strain it had been to get that piece of paper. To me, it represented freedom, freedom to stay out until dawn if I wanted and sleep all day if I wanted. It represented freedom from my school uniform and from the teasing the entourage subjected me to every time they caught me in it trying to sneak past them at Graceland. I was a big girl playing in the big leagues.

As soon as I could get away, I ran outside. In front of the church, Matt and the boys were standing by the long black limo, looking like the Chicago Mafia in their dark glasses and suits, each concealing a.38. Around them a group of nuns were clamoring for Matt’s autograph.

Excerpt from: "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley. Scribd. This material may be protected by copyright.

a/n - so cute🎀

#matt stuniolo fanfic #matthew sturn #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo edit #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #Spotify

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skyloftian-nutcase · 1 year ago

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@kikker-oma Have a little hurt/comfort/fluff(ish) Healthcare snippet to help you get through being sick. I hope you feel better soon! ❤️ (@hermitdrabbles56 come get your healthcare au soup 😂👍🏻)

Legend wasn’t the best at emotional support and care, and he’d be he first one to admit it. But he also knew when to recognize that a situation was rough and when someone would probably need help through it. The matter was what was he supposed to do.

When Hyrule walked briskly into the emergency department, blood trailing up his arms and seeping into parts of his clothes, hair a frizzy mess, Mo equally disheveled, and a firefighter Legend didn’t know at his side… he knew it was bad. He’d known it was bad based on the incoming report.

The trauma room had been packed, as it always was for alpha alerts. Voices layered over each other as they worked to transfer the patient to the bed from the stretcher. Machines beeped as devices were unhooked and reattached. The emergency attending called for silence so Hyrule could give his report.

“Unknown age male, approximately in his 20s, found down on a back road. He’s been unresponsive for us the entire time. He’s got a ton of bleeding from the back of his head and it feels depressed in the back, unequal and soft, likely has a skull fracture. Pupils unequal, right side larger than the left, but both reactive. No step off or anything palpating c-spine, flail chest with deformity on the left side, large laceration on the left arm that we’ve got wrapped, and just road rash all over. We don’t know if it was a hit and run or what the deal was. He was originally 88/50, and tachycardic in the 130s, SpO2 in the 80s. We intubated him with a 7.0, it’s 20… something—um, 22 at the teeth. Lots of blood in the airway that we are clearing out. He’s got two bilateral 16G IVs, we gave him 1.5L normal saline, he’s gotten TXA as well. His BP improved to 108/74, was the last one we got. He’s been sating in the 90s since we got the tube in. I don’t have a medical history or anything, no witnesses to what happened.”

As soon as Hyrule had finished, other providers were calling out findings. Legend noted out loud when vitals were dropping again. The emergency nurse glanced at Hyrule as he walked away and saw the medic belatedly realize just how much blood he’d gotten on himself. Mo was already washing his own hands at the nearest sink.

He barely had time to even consider saying anything to the kid, but he certainly didn’t have time to talk to him right now. So he made a note for later as Time talked to the emergency physician and they prepared to go to CT.

Hours later, Legend sat down in the locker room, exhausted, and grabbed his phone.

Hey Rulie, wanna hang out?

He didn’t know Mo that well, but he knew Hyrule. He knew that medic didn’t really hang out with anyone who he didn’t know from work, which meant his circle of friends—though expanding since they’d recently met some new people—was fairly limited. And he’d never heard of the teenager mention family. Four was working a day shift today, Time was still in surgery, and Warriors was coming in to work today as well. Wind was in school, and Wild was out sick with Twilight holding him hostage so he rested. Legend didn’t know what Sky was doing—he disappeared off the face of the planet sometimes, it was a little disconcerting—so he couldn’t rely on him. Which was unfortunate because Sky (and Twilight, Legend was discovering) was fairly emotionally supportive.

Which meant it was up to him.

I’m not built for this, he grumbled in his head, but his worry for his friend far outweighed any awkwardness and anxiety on the matter.

When he didn’t get an immediate reply, he started wondering if Hyrule had just gone home and gone to sleep. A part of him was relieved and a part still worried. By the time he got to his car, though, a text popped up on his screen.

Hang out? Didn’t you just get off work?

So he was awake. Legend’s fingers moved quickly. I mean we don’t have to now but like in general. Later today?

Sure

Perfect. This was going to be fine. Yeah. Legend could offer support. He could, thank you very much.

Six hours later, he groaned as his alarm went off, and his confidence and concern on the matter were far lower than earlier.

Maybe we can hang out tomorrow, he thought as an exhaustion headache thrummed against his skull. But when he grabbed his phone, Hyrule had already texted him.

I was thinking we could go hiking! There’s a trail where we can watch the sunset.

Ah. Well, now he was committed and his friend was excited. He definitely wasn’t delaying this.

Except it was butt cold outside, he discovered to his dismay as he wrapped himself in several layers of jackets.

Be a supportive friend, yeah, it would be great, terrific, wonderful, WHY IS THE WIND BLOWING IT’S COLD ENOUGH—

Legend nearly scampered to the safety of his car, the bitter wind held at bay, and then yelled at how frozen the seats felt. “Damn it all, why is—what the hell made Hyrule think today was a good day to hike?!”

After too short a time to warm the car up, he finally met Hyrule at the designated spot at the edge of town.

“Why the hell are you biking here?” He exclaimed as he rolled his window down. Hyrule, cheeks flushed and smile bright, jogged over and slid into the car from where he’d locked his bike at a post. “It’s eighty thousand degrees below zero out there!”

Hyrule sniffled with a chuckle. “It’s not that bad. Was your last travel assignment at a beach or something?”

“No, it was somewhere where people didn’t hike just as winter’s moving in,” Legend fired back irritably before remembering he was supposed to be helping right now.

Well, you know what, being here is helping. So there.

He needed to drink more of his energy drink.

Legend’s next great discovery was that the hiking trail in question was blessedly short, much to his relief, but made up for its lack of mileage in a steep gradient that was fairly equivalent to rock climbing.

“You said hiking, not mountaineering,” he noted as he crawled on all fours to get over some rocks on the trail.

“Don’t worry, this means we’re almost at the top!”

Hyrule was correct in his assessment, allowing Legend to finally catch his breath and to freeze in place at the view.

The valley was littered with color, duller now that winter was beginning its long hold on the land, but notable nonetheless. Browns, oranges, yellows, reds, greens all intermingled like paint mixed on a canvas, contrasted against an autumn blue sky, which was slowly staining gold and crimson with the oncoming descent of the sun.

“It’s nice, right?” Hyrule prompted as he glanced at his friend.

“Yeah,” Legend had to agree quietly. Then he remembered his purpose for this outing and felt his stomach twist. “So I got blankets and food and stuff, let’s sit down and chill.”

Hyrule cheerily agreed, and the pair settled with their feet hanging over the rocky edge of the mountain. The wind was still stupidly cold, but now Legend had blankets wrapped around him, and he was already warmed up from the exertion.

“Hey, so…”—great heavens above he sucked at this—“Um. About that call last night. You… uh, you wanna talk about it?”

“What was the verdict?” Hyrule asked. “He still alive?”

“He was when I left, though I doubt it’ll last. Massive head bleed and skull fragments in the brain. Anything he could break was broken in some way or another.”

Hyrule hummed. “Figured.”

“They found out how it happened, though,” Legend noted.

“Was it a hit and run?”

“Nope. Alcohol in his system, dude was having an argument with whoever was driving, they were going 55mph and this guy decided he was going to end the argument but stepping out of the vehicle while it was going that fast.”

Hyrule stared. “He… did that to himself? And not SI, just like straight up—wow. We sure there weren’t drugs involved too?”

“Tox screen was negative for everything except EtOH.”

Hyrule huffed, leaning back and looking out again. “Wow.”

“Play stupid games, win stupid prizes,” Legend muttered, glaring at the scenery. The careless idiocy of the maneuver still got under his skin. They’d all worked damn hard to keep that moron alive.

And that’s what he was. A moron. Because life was precious and he’d literally tossed his out the window because of poor choices.

And now they had to pick up the pieces.

“So… you good?” Legend glanced hesitantly to his right. “I mean… that was a lot. Even in the hospital. I can’t imagine being the one scraping him off the pavement.”

Hyrule chuckled nervously now, shifting in place. “I mean, it was… a mess but yeah. I’m ok.”

“Okay.”

“Yeah.”

“Great.”

The wind blew again, and Legend didn’t feel it, turning sharply to face his friend. “Okay but most people aren’t okay after that.”

Hyrule scrunched his nose. “Are you okay?”

“This isn’t about me!”

“You seem like you’re not okay.”

“Rulie for the love of G—”

“Hey, you said to Sky you wouldn’t swear like that.”

“Fine, for the love of all things holy, you can just not be okay with me!” Legend continued, waving his arm in a frustrated manner. Because he was frustrated, he was tired of everyone having to be okay with what they saw and dealt with, he was tired of the taboo behind being hurt and affected.

He wasn’t that affected by it, but people usually were!

“You want… me to be not okay with you…?” Hyrule repeated, clearly confused.

Damn it all he sucked at this.

Legend took a steadying breath, rubbing his face. “I want. You. To be okay. With not being okay. That call freaking sucked.”

Hyrule was silent for a long time after that, and Legend was again wondering why he’d thought any of this was a good idea. He took a swig out of his energy drink and looked away awkwardly.

“Do you ever wonder if it’s worth it?”

Legend glanced over at his friend to see him staring out at the valley below, eyes distant, shoulders slumped. The nurse sat up straighter, choosing his words carefully. “If what’s worth it?”

“All the effort we put into it. Like… we all knew that guy wasn’t going to make it.”

“He… might…” Legend lied helplessly.

Hyrule continued to look at the scenery before huffing and smiling. He closed his eyes, bowing his hand and leaning forward with his hands on his knees.

Legend reached out hesitantly, settling a hand on the teenager’s shoulder. Hyrule let out a shuddering sigh, and Legend squeezed his hand in support.

“It’s always worth it for the chance that they do,” Hyrule said softly. “But yeah… that call sucked.”

Legend bit his lip and nodded, offering silent support as the two huddled close against the wind. No more words were exchanged for the hour that they stayed there. No words were needed. But when Legend finally felt too frozen solid to sit there any longer, the gentle peace was finally broken.

“Okay, now you get to carry me down because my knees aren’t tolerating that rock climbing shit.”

Hyrule laughed, bubbly and joyful and free, face more radiant than the sunset, and Legend smiled.

They’d be alright.

#This is more hurt/comfort than fluff I suppose #But you know what comfort is fluff too #so it counts dang it #lu in healthcare #writing #Legend is rough around the edges but he means well ❤️#Hyrule doesn’t know how to be vulnerable with others but he’s trying ❤️#I love them #lu legend #lu hyrule #I’m sorry if my fluff and hurt/comfort is speckled with something people might find traumatic #It’s kind of just the nature of the work

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posttexasstressdisorder · 9 months ago

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Tapering down...

It's no secret on here that I'm a depressed old fuck who's barely surviving. I've been taking two antidepressants for the last few years, Sertraline (Zoloft) and Mirtazipine (Remeron).

I love the Mirtazipine because it helps me fall asleep at night and STAY asleep. Insomnia was one of my main symptoms...for years on end I never strung together more than an hour and a half of sleep at a time. If I take the Mirts right as I'm hittin' the bed, I fall asleep within 20 mins. Those I have no problem with.

Talked to the doc about 6 months ago about tapering down off the max Zoloft dose (150mg/day) and finally getting off them totally. Why? They never really seemed to DO anything. There may have been a slight sense of relief after awhile, but I never really FELT any kind of effect, and no real benefit, other than the possible "I'm taking meds now so I must be getting better" thing you have to tell yourself before they "kick in".

So, I tapered down to just 100mg for a couple months and then took the 50mg's until they were gone. Been completely off them for a few weeks now. Haven't really felt much different, nothing really negative, other than possibly feeling "hopeless" once in a while, which, frankly, anybody in my position WOULD feel.

My reason for writing this out? I never really considered that they might be masking some of my emotional range. After the big news of the day yesterday, after a few hours of sensing the giddiness in the ether, I just started crying. I know that's a perfectly fine reaction to have when something that's been horrible gets RESOLVED, at least on a certain level. It's a release of tension.

But there was more to it. Posted some videos, and listening to all the music, it just made me weep all that much more. And this was genuine grief...grief at the loss of what all those songs represented to me, to my own Personal Mythological Framework, as it were.

And yet, deep down I knew that it wasn't just the loss of The '60s Protest movement, or specifically 1967, The Summer of Love and what IT represents to me.

I think enough of the sertraline has flushed from my system now that my emotional body is releasing pent-up grief. I've written about my two Gemini loves, born a day apart, died nine years apart. That birthday anniversary has always been difficult to get through, but last night's flow of tears finally wound its way to that core pain.

I'm one of those people who has to know WHY.

Once the WHY is satisfied, the letting go can happen.

My last therapist was essentially a Buddhist witch, and I always struggled with what she said about the death(s), but it hit home on a deeper level last night. Her words? Essentially that we have to eventually get enough distance from it and see the "Rightness" of it.

That's a seemingly callous idea, but it's really not.

If someone dies, think of their lives and the trajectory they were on, and the trajectory the world has taken since their death. Eventually there will be a sense of "yes, that somehow HAD to happen for THIS to happen"...a sense of "rightness" in that definition is strange to feel, once you get to it. You may never GET to it...it may always be "THE GREAT WRONG" in your life.

Gemini 1 (my sweetie, my soulmate) died July 15, 2012; Gemini 2 (my bro the soldier) died four days after the January 6th attack, on January 10, 2021. I'm still surrounded by the detritus of both their lives, in my sweetie's case, I have every piece of art she made between Junior College and the day she died. In the case of my Bro, it's all the computer parts and tools and family camping stuff that hasn't seen the light of day in over 20 years.

I know that I've hung onto much of it out of desperation, out of duty and loyalty to their memory, their lives...but it is currently holding me back, and I can feel that. I have to find the stomach to go down to the garage and just start taking pictures of all the tech and camping stuff and being realistically ruthless about what I actually CAN and CAN'T use and hit CL and eBay with whatever might bring a buck.

Up until last night, the idea of that was just too overwhelming. I think last night's emotional release had an effect. Not sure just how any of it is going to happen, but I have to face all that crap down there and get rid of 90%, leaving only Char's artwork and a few tools i can use, and then finding a cheaper storage solution for what's left.

Especially since the evil landlords jacked the rent on the garage up another fucking $25 as of this coming month.

And back to that "Rightness" thing. I finally thought about that in terms of what has happened in the world since they both respectively left. I am certain my sweetie would not believe the shit that has gone on in the last 12 years. I'm pretty sure my bro's poor broken body would not have made it through the ensuing years, especially after that last bizarre injury.

It's a strange thing to see that from the distance of time. And last night's catharsis was certainly tied to it, but I'm sensing there was a component tied to the tapering off the sertraline. No more emotional masking, possibly there will be more peace of mind going forward, I can never be sure, as I pick up just about everything energetically. (Why I have to go "SHIELDS UP, SCOTTY!" while I'm out and about, and self-isolate so much of the time.)

We do have so much to grieve. It never really ends. You have to feel it ALL. You have to release it. You have to see the "rightness" of it when you look at the world in its entirety. The sertraline's masking of the intense sadness finally being gone facilitated the bulk of it, I'm pretty sure.

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thebluntstudent · 9 months ago

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FOUR ANXOUS THOUGHTS YOU MAY BE HAVING PRE-EXAM, AND WAYS TO RATIONALISE THEM ...

Also, a little commentary about panic attacks because I been there babs, in fact was there 30 mins ago~

°•☆•°

Tomorrow, I have an exam that I have been dreading for a long time. So naturally, today when I woke up a couple hours later than I was anticipating and opened up my notes to make the most of my last day of revising, I was hit with a flood of overwhelming anxiety and a panic attack followed suit.

I was struggling to move, I felt so overtaken by my thoughts- so I lay down, hugged myself, and did my best to calm down and rationalise my thoughts. This is how I got through it, and this is how I contended with a few of the emotionally-loaded thoughts that were driving my pre-exam panic:

Firstly, getting through it. If you are having a panic attack, don't try to push it down or ignore it- it sucks babs, but much like escaping a burning building by jumping through the fire, it's happening now and the only way past it is going through. So feel it. If you can talk to someone to support you through and ground you then do, and use whatever aids you to help calm the physical effects enough that you can start to fight that negative filter making you feel like the worlds biggest failure right now- you're not. You're a human, and if you didn't care about this exam you wouldn't be curled up in bed hyperventilating about it!

°•☆•°

Just physically calming yourself down doesn't help you fight the thoughts you're having that may be caused by or be the cause of your anxiety in the first place- so here are a few anxious thoughts I have had that you may also be experiencing and the rationalisation that helped me through them- in hopes that if you aren't doing okie dokie right now that maybe this will give you something to focus on and help you be the devil's advocate to your own anxiety too:

"I woke up later than I wanted to, I've lost important study time." So you slept through your alarm, or forgot to set one- fretting about lost time is only going to make you lose your mind and lose focus more, and the day before an exam you need as much rest as the night before. A few hours may feel like a lot of time, but you probably wouldn't have made the most of that in a groggy sleep-deprived state anyway. You're looking after yourself, you still have time, and that is okay.

"I have so much to get through, I'm never going to understand everything now." There is still plenty that you can do! I have been moderately unwell for 2 months and it has had a massive impact on my capacity to study consistently. There's a fair bit of content I know that I don't have enough time to understand at a first grade level- but I still have hours to lock down a little bit more confidence in preparation for the exam. Stop thinking 'I have to do ALL of this in the next 24 hours', start thinking 'what can I do to make myself feel a little more confident for tomorrow?'- as I mentioned in my last post, in just a 5-10 minute revision session you can go over a topic's worth of content via flashcards, and you literally have hours to go yet.

"I'm a bad student, I should have started prepping weeks ago/I should have done more." Hindsight is a bitch. Even if your reason for not studying before now is simply procrastination (which does not make you a bad student, it makes you a normal student- and also, a human being), mourning the time you've lost will not get you a top grade. You still have so much time to make yourself feel a little more prepared- you aren't a bad person, and you can still do something now even if you didn't a week ago! <3

"I don't even know where I'm supposed to start now, everything feels so overwhelming." take 20. Stop envisioning your subject as a whole (easier said than done, I know), and instead try to break it down into little segments of info you have to learn- you've already been taught the subject, so you don't have to learn the WHOLE thing in 24 hours. I like to write a list breaking down my module lecture by lecture, with three little check boxes next to it (though this depends on the subject you're doing): content, flashcards, practise. Cross off anything you've already done, pick one topic- one task you want to focus on and ignore everything except for that for however long you'll be working on it. It doesn't matter if you can't get through the whole list- every little section you do is another set of questions in the exam that you now have a better chance at answering. Isn't that a win?

This won't get rid of your anxiety like some magic solution, and it isn't always an easy task to dismiss your restless mind's accusations- but hopefully this is a little helpful for any fellow messy, anxious students out there who want the best but aren't in the best circumstances to get there <3 also, good luck!

#study blog #study tips #studyblr #studyspo #study motivation #student #student tips #exams #exam season #exam stress #thebluntstudent

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palmtreepalmtree · 1 year ago

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I honestly don't know if I can do Rosh Hashanah this year. There is so much baggage I'm carrying with my family right now. There's a part of me that just wants to drive away. But I don't think I can do that to my mom, and also that's just avoiding the issues.

The biggest thing is that I haven't really seen my brother-in-law since my niece's bat mitzvah in January. It wasn't intentional, but it wasn't unintentional either. I definitely let it happen. He's been having issues with my sister and while they've reconciled or are working on things, I have not forgiven him or let shit go. I have always had issues with him. But me being me, I always just kept my silence and tried to avoid confrontation.

Then he was unkind to my mom last year in a big family blow up where he complained about how he was treated in our house. As it was, I always felt that I had to work so hard to cater to his ego in our house, and that blow up just made me feel like what was the fucking point. Now more than ever I feel this heightened need to be careful around him. I pretty much just ignored him at the bat mitzvah, but he'll be staying in the house so of course I can't do that now. And apparently ignoring him was part of the problem. I can't believe how much emotional work I am doing to accommodate this person.

And to make matters more complicated, his brother will be visiting from out of town. Our house is pretty full already - I already give up my bedroom to accommodate my sister and brother-in-law. Now this guy is going to be sleeping on the den floor. He's perfectly nice, I guess, (though we're both lawyers and that can be sort of a thing iykyk), but what adult man decides to sleep on a futon in the middle of the house instead of just getting a hotel room? He's a big law lawyer, he can afford it. I would never. I barely want to stay with friends when they have a guest room (am I weird about this btw?).

And then there's my cousin and her in-laws. Firstly, my cousin is sicker all the time with cancer. I think she might be close to the end of her fight. Which is a heartbreaking thing to say about someone I adore, someone I grew up with, who is 45 years old, and has three children in their teens. She is fighting so hard, but she's in treatment three days a week, and she will never stop for the rest of her life. I'm happy she'll be coming, but I worry about her being around the 19 other people.

And then her in-laws are coming, and they are bringing their 100-year-old matriarch, who is a wonderful woman, but she is 100 years old, no one ever talks to her except me and my mom, and I don't know who is risking bringing someone like that around a place with 19 other people right now.

AND my cousin is not on the best terms with her mother-in-law. That's too complicated to get into here, but it's not the most pleasant thing in the world. As it is, they are not my favorite people. We've known them and included them for almost 20 years at this point, and over the years it has become clearer and clearer how different my values are from theirs when it comes to money and society. They're not Trump people, but they're definitely Rick Caruso people.

All of that is the backdrop to this dinner that I will be helping my mom to host for 20 people. She will be very stressed so I expect to get yelled at a lot tomorrow. And we're the type of people who smile and get along and pretend, while seething inwardly.

And it's not just like everyone goes home at the end of the night. I'll still have my brother-in-law and his brother at the house, probably all weekend. And I'm obligated to sit through like four hours of services on Saturday in the middle of this. All while not having my own private space to retreat to at the end of it until the family leaves.

Seriously, the more I type this, the more I think I should just leave. But I would never do that to my mom.

#long post #i just need my own house #but hahahahahaha jk #seriously thanks to anyone who read all this whining

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nothing0fnothing · 10 months ago

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I want to tell a story about financial abuse and how I experienced it at different points in my life while being abused by narcissistic unfit parents and later my abusive ex partner.

This instance happened when I was 20 years old and freshly graduated from university.

I was living with my mum in the short term while I worked and waiting for my graduate course to begin. I only agreed to stay with her because she had told me she was in active therapy and she promised me living with her would be different this time.

It lasted for less than two weeks before we were back to her rage outs and her vile comments. But I'd just moved all my stuff in and it was only 3 months so I decided to stick it out.

One of her promises when I first agreed to move in was that she didn't expect me to pay rent. It's a massive faux pas in our culture to expect your adult children to pay rent to live with you and its not like my mother was hurting for money, so I believed her.

Four weeks before I was set to leave I lost my job. It wasn't a big deal. I had enough savings to get me to uni and a little extra for the short term.

My mum started to ask when I planned on getting another job. I told her probably after I enrolled in my course since I would only be in the city a few weeks now. She didn't like that. She told me that she had changed her mind, and now rent was expected in return for me living with her, and if I didn't have a job by end of week she'd evict me.

Obviously this was a fucking nightmare. Nobody was willing to hire somebody for 3 weeks and the jobs that would were scammy and predatory as fuck. My mum took my savings as "back rent" and made clear that the rent was not enough, I needed to be in 40 weekly hours of employment to live in her house.

Then, after days of constant abuse and horrible-ness she came to me with a new ultimatum. She had just joined a MLM scam and needed a downline. I could agree to be her downline or I could move out tomorrow.

I spent the last of my savings on the cheapest "starter kit" she offered and the next part of the job was to reach out to everyone on my Facebook friends list to offer them product. It was embarrassing and demeaning. It felt like I was begging people for money.

Over the last weeks I lived with my mum my routine was to be up into the early morning on facebook watching "inspirational" livestreams that the company broadcast from the other side of the world. I'd then sleep till no later than my mother's alarm to "network" (ie, sit on Facebook joining community groups) eat lunch, run errands then log back into Facebook to advertise the product to strangers until the companies started it's livestream at midnight my time. Where I'd take notes for my mother who'd gone to bed.

According to my mum I made £700 of sales that week. I never saw a penny of it. I was exhausted and I felt horrid about the whole situation, but it's not like I had a minute free to process my feelings. I was even expected to cancel my own therapy sessions while this was happening.

Three days before I was set to leave, my mum had a massive blow up at me and my sister. I'd "done something wrong" on the marketing side, caused Facebook to freeze our accounts.

It started at 7am. My mum screaming at my sister and slamming doors woke me up. Then the sound of her stomping down the corridor, punching the walls on her way down. Then she was in my room calling me a cunt and a bitch and stupid and god knows what else. I sat up and looked at her sleepily, but I could tell all she wanted was for me to be terrified like I was as a little girl, and I wasn't going to give it to her.

"You've stopped all the work" she raged at me "we can't work now we can't sell and it's all your fault."

"So what do you want me to do about it?" I said.

To be honest, I didn't and still don't accept that it was my fault. I think we were just joining a mass number of Facebook groups and advertising tat in them, obviously enough people had reported me for Facebook to take action. I wasn't going to jump through hoops to apologise for what any MLM scammer will tell you is a risk of the trade.

"What can you do? You've lost your own job, you've cost me mine, you're swanning off to university this week and you've left me with all this."

"Well if there's nothing I can do there's nothing I can do." I said plainly.

She mimed smacking me then said in a snarl I know she tried her best to seem menacing "you're not too old for a beating you know."

I laughed in her face.

She'd tried to beat me 2 years before when I was 18. I defended myself and she didn't like that, she came out of it just as bruised as I did and she never tried it again. She obviously thought that me being broke and sleep deprived would change the situation in her favor. We never found out because she stormed off angry.

I spent the last two days there with my sister. We went shopping and drinking and had a good time. I told her my flat would be waiting for her when she was 18 and legally able to move out. It was a good send off, all things considering.

When I left I left behind the untouched starter pack. My mum sold it for £15 on ebay. She never apologised to me, she never admitted she was in the wrong. If the attempted beating when I was 18 put us on the path to the relationship we have now, this 3 month experience living with her cemented it. I was open to an apology for years afterwards, but she didn't think I was owed one. Eventually I just stopped expecting it to come. I'm not going to forgive someone who isn't sorry.

#narcissistic abuse #raised by narcissists #financial abuse #emotionally immature parents #enotional abuse #parental abuse #narcissistic parents #vent post #toxic parents #complex trauma #dysfunctional family #toxic mom #dysfunctional household

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jaewrotethis · 1 year ago

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20- Nightmares...

What happened on this day was impacting enough to take over my night. My dreams consumed with what I’ve felt today. I send myself to my bed sooner than the rest. Pan became just another boy in the room full of boys after leaving me on the balcony of the big front room. I couldn’t care, though. I was too determined to think over everything that happened today. I wanted to be alone to pick my brain apart, my day apart. So to my room I go, turning away from the front room and into the dark, maze hallways.

Alright, do the thing. I tell the second voice in my head, since she managed to navigate through the halls this morning.

You do it.

How.

Just think about the room.

I close my eyes at the dark hallway.

Stay relaxed.

I breathe out and I picture my torn blankets, my ripped sheet. The broken dresser and fluff mess of the entire room. The cold and forever opened window directly across the entrance and the smaller door to its right. Another breath and then I open my eyes to the room given to me. I stand in front of the open door. The room I so ungratefully tore to shreds sitting quietly behind the threshold. I walk in slowly, trying to find a sense of home or maybe comfort, trying to convince myself that this is mine. Over to the mattress, away from the forever open window that leaks a cold, cold air to flush my room, I walk.

I stop to put the lamp back where it belongs, on my night stand then walk the room to replace everything back where it should be. I put all the drawers back into the beaten apart dresser and the trunk back into the closet. I pick up what’s left of the pillows that were gifted to me and put them on the head of the mattress. Then the ripped sheets and the torn open quilts. I make the bed with the pieces left over and crawl inside of it. Having to curl up to be covered completely by the ripped quilts.

The bed is cozy, it’s warm. I lay for hours, the night crawling on and on, longer and longer as I just think of my entire day. Too much to recall to sleep, too much to go over to drift off. I wish I could write down the stops my train of thought kept making and riding passed before I forget any of it. From waking up to fuzzy bugs all the way to fighting pirates and then ending the night on a new note with Pan. A note of him possibly saving me, though he’s done it about four times today I’m nearly certain it’s all set up. There’s so much, too much to keep track of.

Did Pan plan every last event?

Did he make sure I had no weapon on the pirate ship so he could give me one when I needed it most?

Could he have really shown me how to fly just so he could catch me from falling to my death?

Or was it just so he could take it away and give it back whenever he says so?

Did he make sure to save me from the Mermaids to mess with my head?

Was the whole Slightly thing just abuse or did Pan set that up?

Why would he set up something so fucked?

Is it because I denied his help of flight after the Treasure Hunt?

Is he really that petty?

Would he really stoop so low?

When sleep did come, it was not welcomed.

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

Again, I’m flying. Over the mountains of Neverland I can see every valley and spring and forest that I saw earlier today. Still so vivid in my memory, I won’t ever forget my first flight over Neverland. I fly free, no Pan under me to keep me airborne, just me and my happiness. The sun is warm on my skin, I feel like I belong somewhere, finally. I couldn’t stop smiling even if I wanted to.

I fly the route that I was taken on today as it’s so fresh in my mind still. Over the Dark Forest that surrounds the hideout and onward to the valleys beyond. Over soft grasses and hidden lagoons. It’s just when I’m approaching the mountains furthest from it all, behind all the valleys, that the magically blue sky has a gray cloud growing. A mean looking storm that was so far away earlier, now in front of me. I can’t seem to stop advancing towards the gray storm forming in the mountains, seeping into the sky like ink in water. My faith dwindles. And as I’ve learned, doubt cannot be planted when flying. Just one shift, just one little second of uncertainty and I’m falling from the sky. The storm growing, casting nighttime and nightmares over the island.

I try, oh how hard I try, to stay lifted. Up and down I go as the belief comes and goes. Coming when I remember how the happy faith felt just a moment ago and going just a second after as I feel the fear of how I almost just fell. Until I’m crashing to the forest floor, somehow now underneath me, valley and mountains gone.

It’s dark. The trees are black. The rain is light but cold. I suddenly know exactly why I need to get up and run. So, I’m running through the forest under the dripping canopy that streams the smallest bits of moonlight every few feet. I’m sprinting through bushes, branches, shrubs. Getting nicked by thorns and scrapped by wood, tripping over roots and stumbling through plants but I can’t stop running. If I let him run faster than me, if I let him close the distance he’ll end my life, I know he will. Blood begins dripping off my neck, down my chest with the searing pain of them being created.

I breathe in rhythm as I sprint. Fresh painful woulds lay deep on the back of my neck and along the bottom of my skull. My temples also cut open, leaking out my crimson blood. It burns painfully but there is no time to stop and clean wounds. The wind yanks my hair behind me as I run my open vest flapping along with it. I push through bushes, and slap through water. My mud stained boots dig into the soil underneath me, kicking up dirt with each step that I push behind me, arms out to pull myself forward, anything to get away, to keep running, to go fast, go further. My legs feel like led, my lungs are burning for air. My body suddenly is exhausted and tired, I’m drained. My own weight is too heavy to go on anymore. I’m out of stream, I can’t run any longer. My breathing harsh and my blood pounding in my ears, I rear right, skidding in the dirt around a sharp turn of a cliff.

My legs skid under me making me hit the ground, palms first. I push myself back up to my feet before I can lose precious seconds. I’m running not much longer, but so much faster before I burst through thick bushes. I jump through thick, tall, green stacks of plant before realizing there is no floor on the other side. The bushes sit on the top of the steep hill I am now tumbling down. Big rocks dig into my back, they slam into my arms, into my legs as I yelp and grunt to each one in angry pain. My sides roll over the sharp jungle floor that cuts, ripping my skin. My head tucked into my chest, knees slamming into dirt, I try using my arms to shield my head.

Finally the earth decides to show mercy with a flattened clearing. Ramming hard into a stump stops my agonizing fall as it flips me over. The pain is tricky. It strikes my spine and bites my fresh bruises. With each second that ticks by the pain cuts my skin then disappears to the shock trying to take over, only the shock fails and the pain returns stronger and deeper to the bone. My lungs vibrate inside my chest as the wind has been knocked from me, stunning me on the floor momentarily.

Flat on my back I stare up at the dark forest, panting and coughing once my breath finds me again, my vision a blur. The world is tipsy. I shake my head, grabbing at it to try and stop the new headache that rolls pain down my body. I hear a holler in the darkness from up above. Beyond the hill I fell from. A deep call of a certain someone in search of the one that isn’t at his command. Fear pins my heart to my chest. Pure terror floods my veins and adrenaline pumps my cells to sit me up, ignoring the throbbing pain in all my bruised muscles that ache to relax. The hollering growing louder. He’s getting closer. I need more distance.

“You can not hide! You’re exposed everywhere you go!”

My eyes wide, the sweat beading my forehead with the dripping blood as his words successfully frighten me. With each word my nerves spike higher and leap in my skin. What if he’s right? What if I don’t away, if I physically can’t get away? How much actual pain and torture could he cause, how much worse can it be than what’s already been horribly done? Out of breath and shaking with fear I force myself to stand up. My eyes dart around for his figure, or a hiding spot, or a weapon, or better yet, someone who will help me. A twig snaps behind me just as I’m fully standing, wobbly and riddled with weakening pain. I spin round, whipping my wet hair out of my face. Darkness engulfs the trees that surround me. A black smoke coming in. Another twig snaps. It’s too quiet. The wind stopped, the trees gone quiet, even the rain is gone. I hold my breath, turning in a circle, searching in the dark smoke clouding in, closer and closer, erasing most of the forest from view.

“Why run?”

Two small words spoken in my ear. I jump, choking on a scream. My heart pounds, matching my rapid breath and I can barely see his silhouette in the dark. He’s right in front of me, standing tall and broad. Not a single breath missing, not tired, worn, or even breaking a sweat. I know that demonic smirk is plastered on his face. I gasp turning to run but two strong hands dig into my shoulders. I yelp as I’m yanked back and thrown to the floor. I trip on my feet. I am tired. I can’t fight anymore. Dirt finds its way into my skin, opening new cuts on my hands. A groan whining from me but I’m only trying to see straight, to find any relief in any of the many aching pains.

“I told you. You aren’t capable of hiding from me. You are not able to defend yourself,” he snatches me up and throws me at a tree, like a toy.

I hit the ground, gasping and crying out but I bite my lip immediately. I regret the sounds of pain. Each noise of fear and pain I make gives him pride. And if he’s going to kill me, he won’t have the satisfaction of breaking me. I won’t let him have it. Though it seems like he knows this and has made his own personal game of trying to snatch it from me anyway. And I know I can’t let him win. So though I’m shaking with fear and critical pain I’m channeling any strength left to hide it from him. I crawl away, suddenly dressed back in my white asylum clothes, Lost Boy attire gone.

“You’re helpless, weak, and worthless,” his hands grab my shirt at both shoulders and yanks me at himself. Then Pan introduces a new type of fear to the game when he says, “I ought to let the boys have at you,” and throws me once more on the floor roughly near the bushes that peak through the black smoke.

Exiting the bushes comes Slightly. His face evil and yearning for a certain type of pleasure. Slightly reaches for me with ghostly hands in the dark and I can’t help the shriek scratching from my throat. I’m crawling backwards, away from the bushes when from behind Slightly, more boys emerge from the shrubs, the same look on their faces, the same evil hands trying to grab me.

“Scared, little Jane. Pathetic girl on my island, why are you still living?” I hear Pan’s cold voice behind me.

Pan’s hands grab my shoulders again, pulling me swiftly and so fast I don’t feel my body being slammed into the ground until it’s already happened. I gasp for air as he drags me. He pulls me in the wet dirt. I panic and kick, clawing at his hands.

“No! Let me go! Let go!” I thrash and pull away, trying so hard to get on my feet but he’s stronger, hes always so much stronger.

He yanks me hard making me cry out again and shoves me in front of him. I have no control over where my feet land and where my body is being sent, I can’t stop him from shoving me into a small cage that sits in the dirt.

“No, please! No, no, no! Let me go!” I fight him but his fist connects with my chin and I’m sent flying back against the wooden bars.

I’m jammed into the cage as he tries slamming the door shut, but I jump forward to grab the bars. I push on the door with everything left in me. I’m just barely stopping it from closing all the way but it’s really just him dragging it out. A mean smirk on his face, like he enjoys watching me try so hard for something he can so easily end with an effortless thrust of his arms. My teeth chatter with panic, I don’t want to die. If the door shuts and the click rings out, indicating it’s locked, all hope is lost. The door cannot close. I cannot die locked up.

“Pan, please! Please, don’t do this! Don’t lock me in-”

“If you want out so badly, get it done yourself,” he says harshly. “But we both know you’re too weak to fight for your fate. You’ll stay locked in here until you’re dead.” He spits.

“No,” I whimper, still pushing the door.

He leans in so our faces are close, having complete control of the indecisive door..

“Yes.” is his last word.

Then his arms thrust forward, forcing the door shut all the way. A satisfying click rings out in the exact moment the dark scene is snatched away.

- - -

“Jane! Open the door!”

What?

My eyes open to a yellow blur. I squint, making sense of the ceiling above me. There’s hard pounding at the door. My heart seems to have the same speed as it did in the dream and it’s making my body shiver and shake through a rapid pulse. My brow is damp and so is my back and neck. I breathe out, convincing myself that it was only a dream and I’m not in danger right now, I’m not locked away and I’m allowed to be alive..for the time being.

“Jane!” the door handle quivers roughly, “Open up!”

I shake my head, wiping my cheeks of tears and brow of sweat before swinging my feet over the bed. I fall to the door with sleep swimming behind my eyes and shuffle with the lock before swinging it open. K stands outside my door. His shirt is sweaty, and wet around the collar. His face is red like he��s been running for a while and his eyes are wide with concern. One hand placed on the door frame.

“Are you okay? What’s going on in here?” he speaks rushed and steps to look inside my room. I back up, to let him have a look but my distracted eyes drift to the door.

“I didn’t lock it...” I whisper.

“What?” he urges.

“I-I, I’m not sure,” I touch the back of my neck, looking down and biting my lip.

“Are you alright?”

I nod my head quickly, “Fine. I’m fine. Sorry-I-it, I don’t...”

“What happened? You were screaming, like you were being murdered, what did you do?” he steps inside now.

I back up again, I grab at my hair. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-I mean, I’m sorry I woke you,” I say, still trying to calm my heart. I move around him to look down the hall, hoping I didn’t wake any others.

“What happened?” he asks me from inside my room.

“Did I wake anyone else?” I ask as I finish scoping the hall.

A door four down opens up and on instinct I jump back inside my room, bumping into K but I don’t care. I close the door, feeling fear bubble up again in my chest and turn straight into hyperventilating. K looks at me oddly. My wide eyes meet his and he goes to place his hands on my shoulders but pulls back himself when I glitch away.

“Jane. Breathe.” he says, trying to gain my focus.

I hold his stare and obey, inhaling deeply, then exhaling. It works as I feel the prickles of panic begin to disappear.

“I-It was-uh, just a nightmare. I didn’t mean to wake you, I-”

“You already said that,” he smiles.

I breathe out harshly, “Did I wake anyone else?”

“Calm down, would you?” he widens his smile. “I was up training, you didn’t wake me.”

I listen to him again and I breathe deeply through my nose. He waits patiently for me to find my relax as I’m replaying the convincing in my head;

I’m not in danger I’m allowed to be alive right now. There’s a door right there, I’m not locked up.

It’s alright. I’m fine.

“Nightmares are common here. What was it?” he asks me.

I shake my head. “I shouldn’t have woke you, I’m alright, really,” I go to open the door but he backs away from it.

“What was it?”

He stares at me with a soft look like he knows what I fear, like he has the same fears. He seems to drop some sort of wall and some how I know it’s something I’ve forgotten how to do. I can feel himself letting any restraint go and opening up to be vulnerable. Even more so, he is daring me to join him. His arms open up to me, challenging me to be as vulnerable as he is, to share any fear, to allow any comfort.

And then, I can’t stop my feet walking to him or my arms opening for him, I don’t want to stop them. I reach over his head and embrace him in a deep hug. I’m stiff at the foreign contact but then it’s just too easy to relax into him. He feels really warm and he smells like damp forest.

For a moment, I’m not in Neverland. I’m in a different place, a place I haven’t been to in so long or might’ve even forgotten it existed. It’s a warm place, a place I don’t think I want to ever leave. He holds me in this hug until I feel ready to pull away and when I do, it’s nothing but comfortable silence as I walk to the bed. I lead him, somehow knowing he won’t move unless I move him in my room. My eyes glaze over to my torn blankets thrown on the floor again, and the lamp that was once on my night stand beside them.

I clear my throat and sit with him on my bed, “I, I don’t want to remember...”

“We all get nightmares,” he tells me.

I exhale, “There was, I mean... it was too dark,”

He waits.

“It was Pan. What do you think happened?” I say harsher than I meant. I drop my head, exhaling.

“Even more common. It was a dream. It wasn’t real.” he assures me.

I look at him. I find a want inside of me to scoot closer to him, so I do. He doesn’t flinch or stiffen or feel uncomfortable in any way so I relax even more by resting my head on his shoulder. Such new contact and an experience I’ve never had before, it warms my insides. As if some normality finally found me.

“He is real, K, and he’s in the next room,”

K stays quiet for a moment, “What did he do?” he asks finally.

“What he always does. Brings fear, plays mind games on a power high. Makes it impossible to feel any sort of strength, then expects my soul in return,” I spit.

“We know a different guy,” he defends the master of my nightmares.

“He hurts, K,” I say, knowing he can’t deny that.

It’s quiet for a long time as the night creeps on. I begin to feel my eyes drifting close with a heavy sleep. No longer wishing to remain in the pity party, I get up and walk to the head of the bed. I crawl inside of my torn sheets and get comfortable. I want to ask him to continue the contact. A concept so odd to me, I can’t find how to do it.

Just ask.

I bite my lip, searching so hard for the words to say.

Just do it.

I inhale, feeling dizzy from such an unknown request.

Say it. Just say it.

I open my mouth to speak, but my tongue goes dry.

Just say it!

“You don’t have to leave,” I finally spit out.

He looks at me from the edge of the bed, “Jane. Pan, um, wouldn’t, I mean there’s a, type of...”

I stare at him, understanding that of course Pan still has control, but also so saddened by his rejection of my plead for more comfort. A plead that was so, so hard to put out there. It’s only more anger towards Pan. As if he thinks he has some sick claim over me that stops any type of comfort I might find in his camp.

“Right,” I barely whisper and turn the other way.

Try one more time.

I hear him get up off the bed.

Just one more time.

“K,” I stop him.

“Yeah?”

“...I won’t tell, if you don’t,”

I hear him exhale and I know I did it, I took control back.

He crawls onto the mattress with me, beside me. Such contact as laying with someone is an entire mystery to me, something I’ve never ever felt before. Never have I ever felt such closeness with any person. The asylum was too hectic to get cozy with the girls and before that my life was too...unstable to bask in boys’ arms. Something inside of me tells me to be afraid, but it’s not loud enough. The yearn for comfort is so much louder. K doesn’t get into the covers with me, he lays on top of the messed up blankets, on the edge of the bed. I turn to face him, testing my own waters. Seeing what feels like too much, and what is not enough. He seems so calm, as if he could fall asleep at any second. It assures my decision to ask him to stay with me. He isn’t the slightest bit interested in doing anything that would be at me. He is only here because it’s what I want, what I asked for. And if he is so calm and collected sharing a bed with me, than I can be to. It only assures me even more when he lets me curl on him as I please, not moving a single inch unless I do it for him. He doesn’t make any move to get closer to me, only lets me get as close I feel comfortable with. It’s nearly perfect.

“Thanks, K,” I whisper to him. “Goodnight,” he whispers back.

I wipe my cheek of the small tear left over from the nightmare. I feel my smile and get even cozier against his chest. I nudge his arm with my shoulder so he knows he can close the cuddle. He obeys and wraps his arm around me when I settle. I’ve never felt so comforted. It’s ecstasy. He is so warm. He doesn’t smell bad but of moss and wet wood. I find the label for the place I’ve never been to. It’s safety. For the first time, in a very, very long, I feel completely safe. Nothing else but safeness, not even stress. No fear, no anxiousness. I’m safe in this bed, beside my friend. I close my eyes and remain lying with my friend until sleep engulfs us both.

I should’ve known Pan would destroy the only comfort, the only safety I had. For the next morning, K was taken away by Pan’s orders. All because I had a bad dream.

#neverland #screenwriting #peter pan fanfic #peter pan #screenplay #peterpan x reader #tinkerbell #the promised neverland #long reads #peter pan fandom

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braveclementine · 9 months ago

Text

Chapter 20

Warnings: None. However, future chapters will contain sexual content so readers that are under the age of 18 may have to skip those chapters (Please keep note of the warnings).

Copyright: I do not own any Wizarding World characters that J.K. Rowling wrote. I do however own Elizabeth Kane (main character) and Trang Nyguen (best friend). There should be no use of these two names without my permission. I also do not condone any copying of this.

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𝕴 𝖕𝖆𝖈𝖊𝖉 𝖙𝖍𝖊 room nervously, unsure of what was going to happen. I was tired, Remus didn't like sleep as much as Severus and I did. But that wasn't why I was pacing.

Susan, Ernie, Trang, Ginny, and Justin were all waiting with me, all of us unsure of whether or not the Slytherins were going to end up coming at all. They were already five minutes late.

"We'll give it a few more minutes." Susan said sadly, her enthusiasm that the four houses would participate was slowly diminishing.

We waited five more minutes and then Ernie got up from where he was sitting, "Let's face it, they aren't showing-"

The door opened and there was a seventh-year Slytherin that I didn't know coming through the room, other seventh-years following.

There was an awkward silence as the rest of the Slytherin house filed in. I caught sight of Pansy who nodded slightly when our eyes met, and there was Zabini, standing next to her, and a grumpy Draco behind them.

Ernie and I exchanged a glance and then I grabbed the container of green markers. The leading Seventh-year approached and grabbed a green writing utensil and turned to sign the paper. I saw the look of surprise appeared on his face, and he turned back to us.

"Who drew this?" He asked in a deep voice.

The other Hufflepuffs, Ginny, and Trang all turned to look at me and a slight flush appeared on my cheeks. "That would be me."

"The whole thing?" He asked, motioning to the drawing.

"Yes." I said.

We stared at each other for a moment, his eyes appraising and mine apprehensive. Without another word, he turned back to the drawing and signed.

That seemed to be the deal for everyone. They all lined up, moving through the line, pushing and shoving to get to the front. Three people signed at a time. Some, like the first seventh-year were surprised. Others simply signed and left.

It took about two and a half hours, shorter than the others but then again, the other houses had showered more praise on me. I think I preferred the Slytherin approach.

"That. . ." Trang said.

"-went better than expected?" Ernie finished for her.

"Yes." Ginny finished.

The finished drawing had all the Professors and now, signatures in Blue, Red, Gold, and Green. "It's great." I said with a smile. "We'll present it to the Professors on the last day of school."

"I hope they like it." Justin said fervently.

Susan scoffed, "Of course they will. It was our idea, Elizabeth drew it, and everyone from every house signed it. What's not to like?"

They all left, leaving me to roll up the drawing. I asked for a secret compartment to put it in so that no one (since everyone in the school minus Professors had been here) could come in and take it. It would only open at my touch.

The only thing I wished was different about the drawing were I wished for other signatures. I would've liked Fred, George, Oliver, Percy, Angelina, Alicia, Cedric, and other students that had been here to sign it as well. Perhaps I could eventually get signatures. Just not before we presented it to the Professors.

I left the room. I walked down the hall, hurrying towards where Severus and I were staying. I slipped in through the door, hurrying upstairs.

Severus was in the office, holding Remus in one arm, grading homework at top speed with the other. I laughed a little and took Remus from his arms.

"Are you hungry?" I asked in that annoying voice that adults use with little kids. I couldn't help it, it kind've just slipped out.

I let him drink (Severus and I had agreed to breast-feeding as the best source of food for Remus) and held him by the window, looking out on the sunny grounds.

I murmured incoherent things under my breath to Remus. Words so soft, I could barely hear them, and Severus could not hear them, and Remus probably couldn't hear them, and even if he could, he wouldn't understand them.

He fell asleep in my arms and I held him for a long time, wishing I could be outside with him. But the students didn't know about Remus and they couldn't. I hoped they didn't find out for a while.

"The day's coming." Severus said and I looked over at him, knowing what he was talking about. He had abandoned the homework, leaning back in his chair carelessly, staring at me and Remus.

"Yes." I said quietly. "Soon."

The chair dropped down onto all fours and Severus stood, coming over to embrace the two of us. "We're going to be fine." He whispered.

"Yes." I agreed. "We will." I reached up to kiss him.

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"𝕮𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖎𝖓." 𝕬 tired voice said from behind the door and I pushed it open and stepped into Professor Dumbledore's room. "Elizabeth! To what do I owe this pleasure?"

It was a few days after the Slytherins had signed the artwork. I felt that this was a necessary thing to do.

"I want to tell you something." I said, tears springing to my eyes, just thinking about it. I quickly took a deep breath, trying to forget what I had seen while also trying to conjure it up into my mind to tell Dumbledore. "I need to tell you something."

"Is something wrong?" Dumbledore asked, sounding slightly alarmed.

"Not yet." I said with a small smile, "But this will take some time."

Dumbledore gestured to the seat in front of his desk. Many of the portraits on the wall were awake, listening intently.

"I want to tell you about the future." I said in as firm a voice as possible. "Because you won't be able to interfere with it."

"Because Severus is going to kill me." Dumbledore acknowledged.

"Yes." I said.

"When will it happen?" Dumbledore asked.

I took in another deep breath. The conversation would go much faster if I didn't let my emotions get a hold of me. "Soon. The day that you find a horcrux which of course, is inside the cave that Tom Riddle brought those two children to. It's the locket, or so you believe. When you get back, Draco Malfoy will have let the Death Eaters into the school. He will tell you more about how he accomplished it at the top of the Astronomy tower. Severus will. . . Severus will come and. . ." I drifted off and Dumbledore nodded.

"But you want to tell me more than just my death, don't you?" Dumbledore said gently.

"Yes." I said, taking another deep breath. "It all just came crashing down an hour ago. I was in. . . in the Room of Requirement, I'll show you why momentarily because it's important."

"This was an hour ago?" Dumbledore asked curiously, folding his hands on the desk.

"Yes." I said. "I would have gotten here sooner, but I had something like a mental breakdown when I. . . when I saw everyone that died."

"I see."

"Harry accomplishes what you sent him to do." I said. "The locket, the real one, is found on Dolores Umbridge. Harry infiltrates the ministry and gets it. I'm not sure of all the fine details, this is the broad spectrum."

"Of course." Dumbledore said, motioning with his blackened hand, "continue."

I explain everything in great detail- taking Harry from his house, Uncle Moody's death, the wedding, Harry, Ron, and Hermione breaking into the Ministry, Ron leaving, Ron coming back, the trip to Lovegood's house, the Malfoy Manor, and then I paused before the battle of Hogwarts.

I open my eyes, gazing into Dumbledore's shining blue ones. Not shining because they are light, but shining because he is crying. It's much different than watching a man like Hagrid cry. Somehow, Dumbledore makes it almost beautiful, symbolic. "Who do we lose?"

I licked my lips, unable to get the names out and start with the names of the people that I'm slightly more okay with, "The fallen fifty, however I don't know all fifty, just some of the names. Colin Creevy." I can picture where he signed his name on the drawing- right underneath Mrs. Norris' tail. "Lavender Brown." She signed near Professor McGonagall's hat. I took another shuddering breath, "Fred Weasley." I opened my mouth and then closed it, unable to say anymore.

"Lupin." Dumbledore says it for me and I nod, tears leaking over my eyes and I wipe them away.

"And Tonks." I choke out. "And. . . and. . ."

"Severus." Dumbledore finishes for me again and I burst into tears, finally unable to hold them back.

"It's not fair." I whisper, "It's not fair at all! We just had a child. Dad and Tonks will have a child too!"

"You plan on trying to change their deaths, don't you?" Dumbledore asked. He never missed anything, did he.

I nodded, wiping underneath my eyes again. "Felix Felicis. I know it can only do so much but if they're luckier than their opponents. . ."

"It is a good plan." Dumbledore says softly. "How do Lupin, Tonks, and Severus die?"

"Bellatrix kills Tonks. Dolohov kills Dad, and Voldemort uses Nagini to kill Severus." I whispered, my voice nearly breaking again.

Dumbledore nodded, reaching out absentmindedly to pet Fawkes. "but Voldemort is ended?"

"Yes." I whisper. "Neville cuts Nagini's head off and Harry kills him."

"Alastor is a good man." Dumbledore muttered, almost to himself. I felt the tears spring up again, thinking of my sweet (though he rarely showed that side of him) Uncle. I didn't want to lose him. Could I stop his death?

There is silence. The portraits are not discussing this outcome yet, but are looking at each other. Dumbledore seemed to be thinking deep in thought.

"If I lived," Dumbledore started suddenly, "Do you think the future would change?"

I hesitated, "I think. . . I think it could be possible. The others. . . they would probably expect you to finish Voldemort as you are the only one he has ever feared. But. . . the curse on your hand. . . even if Severus did not kill you in a few days. . . it would still kill you before the battle. But when Severus kills you, it makes Voldemort put more faith in him."

"And yet Voldemort will still kill him?" Dumbledore asked. He seemed to be trying to figure something out, "And with the snake?"

"Yes." I said. "Because he will steal your wand from you. He thinks the reason the wand doesn't work for him is because Severus killed you and therefore, the wand belongs to Severus. However, it actually belongs to Draco because Draco will disarm you. Then the wand becomes Harry's when he disarms Draco at the Malfoy's Manor. That is why Harry is able to destroy Voldemort, because the wand that Voldemort tries to use on Harry really belongs to him."

"And Severus dies for nothing." Dumbledore whispered.

"I have a plan." I said desperately. "It's not well thought out yet but I'm working on it. I can use Runes for protection, carving them on Severus' neck and heart. This way, when the snake bites, it will bite farther from the heart, giving me just a little more time to heal him. Mr. Weasley was bitten by the same snake so if he tells me what the healer used. And a little Felix Felicis can't hurt, though I know it's ridiculous to think the luck potion will heal and-"

"It's a well thought out plan Miss Kane." Dumbledore said gently. "I will see if I can help you before I die."

"Thank you." I whispered.

There was a silence. Fawkes let out a quavering cry and Dumbledore straightened his glasses. "You said there was something you wanted to show me in the Room of Requirement?"

"Yes." I said, standing, "It won't take long, only a few minutes of your time."

Dumbledore smiled, "We've been here for a half hour, Elizabeth. You may take a few more minutes of my time."

He followed me out of his office and we went down the revolving stairs. He followed me up a few flights of stairs to the seventh-floor. I paced back and forth three times, imagining the art studio and then opening my eyes and wrenched the door open. Dumbledore followed me in.

"This is a marvelous studio Miss Kane." Dumbledore said, standing in the entry way while I went over to the lock container, putting my hand against the hiding place and the lid popped open. I pulled out the drawing, carrying it carefully over to the table and unrolled it, setting weights on either end to keep it open.

I reached into a bucket that stood on one of the many shelves with the art supplies and pulled out a black writing utensil.

"I want you to sign this." I said. "None of the teachers are supposed to sign it, it's supposed to be a gift for you guys for teaching, but since. . . well I thought it would be a nice gesture if you signed it."

Dumbledore was looking down at the art, smiling, "You captured everyone with great detail." He chuckled, "Kettleburn was always a bit, ah, enthusiastic about his work, no matter how many limbs he lost."

"The ones I met or only saw for a year were the harder ones." I admitted, "Especially Quirrell since I never had much to do with him. Dad and Uncle Moody were the easiest."

"They are quite realistic." Dumbledore said, tracing a finger lightly over Firenze's bow. "I'm quite regretful he will not be able to return to the forest."

"As am I." I said.

"I forgot, you were great friends with him in the forest."

"And out of it." I admitted. "I made friends with a few Centaurs but once they started getting possessive with the forest. . ."

Dumbledore took the black utensil from my hand gently and wrote his name in the same calligraphy I'd used for the funny portraits at the top of the page: Albus Dumbledore.

He put the sharpie back in a bucket and after observing the banner one last time said, "You should give this to the Professors sooner rather than later. I would like to see their faces when you give it to them."

With that, he walked from the room, leaving me there alone, remembering the first time the future flashed across my vision revealing that everyone I loved was going to die.

I collapsed to the floor, the visions of Dad and Tonks laying on palettes in the Great Hall dead swimming in front of my eyes. Their fingers were inches apart as though they had fallen that way. Their wands across their chests.

Severus was inside the Whomping Willow. Nagini lunged at his throat. His last words to Harry were, "you have her eyes."

Fred was standing in a hallway. It exploded as Acromantula burst into the castle. I wasn't sure yet if it was a spell or a flying brick that killed him.

Lavender Brown was lying on the ground, Fenrir Greyback on top of her, ripping her neck out.

Colin Creevy in Neville's arms being carried back up to the castle.

Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, and Kingsley were fighting three on one against Voldemort. Mrs. Weasley kills Bellatrix Lestrange, causing Voldemort to push the three of them back in a rage.

I sobbed into my hands, tears falling through my fingers and hitting the floor with tiny pings. Visions seemed to flash faster and faster through my eyes, so quickly there were only snatches of people's faces and places.

Dobby's wide green eyes and then-

Uncle Moody falling from a broom and then-

An electric blue eye underneath a brass nameplate that read Dolores Umbridge and then-

George was missing an ear-

Nagini was slithering-

Ollivander-

Rook-

Wand-

Doe-

Lake-

Sword-

"NO!" I screamed, getting up from the floor. I wiped the tears away and back, my hands running through my hair.

I was shaking and sobbing and shivering and sweating and hating myself and whoever had given me this horrible power of seeing the future. I'd always relied on it, always been glad of it. It had always given me an edge, something that I could hold over others, always one step ahead because I knew what was going to happen, what was going to be said, what should be said. I had never really hated it before.

Now I detested it. I would've given anything to not see these visions, to not see that I was going to lose literally everyone in one fight.

I'd already lost my parents and my godfather and a best friend. Now I was going to lose my second set of parents, my uncle, another best friend, and my husband. I was going to lose everyone in a few months.

I grabbed the back of a chair, sitting in it, trying to get a grip on myself before I went back out into the world.

"What about Trang?" I asked aloud. "What happens to her?"

I could not see Trang's future because Trang was linked to me. She was not a separate entity. Without me, she would not have discovered magic, she would not have been here. Because of me, I could not see her future for the future war.

I got to my feet shakily, wishing for a mirror, and one appeared. I stood in front of it. My entire face was pale except for my eyes were were pink around the edges, the corneas red. My hair was sticking out everywhere as though I'd been electrocuted. I was perhaps exactly what a mad woman in an old movie looked like.

I sighed, wishing for a brush and carefully brushed out my hair until it was smooth and silky, not a hair out of place. There was nothing I could do about the eyes except rest them and so, after I rolled up the drawing, I closed my eyes, imagining other things that had nothing to do with the future.

It took me a few hours to leave the room.

I walked with purpose towards the Hufflepuff common room. People saw me with the drawing tucked up under my arm, and pointed, whispers breaking out in excitement. I tried not to smile and then thought smiling might do me some good and so I smiled.

"We're going to give it to them tomorrow?" Susan asked in surprise. "I thought we were waiting until the last day of school?"

That was going to come sooner than expected.

"Yes." I said to the room of Hufflepuffs. "I have my reasons, mostly so that we can appreciate the art with enough time. I would rather the Professors be able to express their admiration or distaste for the drawing over a course of time rather than hurried exclamations of praise in a few hours because they're rushing us off to the train."

"Hear hear." Ernie said pompously. I could always count on Ernie.

I smiled at all of them, my heart heavy, and I went up to the girls' dorm. There was no drawer that was large enough to keep it in and so I put it on the other side of the wardrobe, propped up. It was very large and it nearly touched the ceiling which was quite a feat considering the ceiling nearly reached thirteen feet.

"Is something wrong?" Hannah asked more perceptibly when I had come down. Hannah, Susan, Ernie, Justin, Zacharias, and Rose were all waiting for me, to congratulate me.

I looked around, noticing that many Hufflepuffs were off in their own groups though a few were keen to listen in.

"Let's. . . go on a walk." I said brightly. "It's a nice day out."

They followed me, mixed looks of confusion and apprehension on all of their faces.

Once we were outside, we walked down to the lake. There was no one around and I quickly turned to them.

"What's happening?" Zacharias demanded.

"Death Eaters." I said.

Ernie and Susan's expressions stayed stoic though the others showed signs of horror.

"Originally." I said. "Hermione was going to send out the day that the Death Eaters attack by using the D.A. coins. Only Luna and Neville answered the call. But I thought, you know, if I told you guys ahead of time. If you guys want to fight-"

"I will." Susan said in a hard voice.

"We could be killed!" Justin said in a voice that almost sounded repulsed.

"Well they won't penetrate the Common rooms." I said, "So if you stay in your dorms you'll be fine. It's only if your out in the corridors. . .and besides, I have a way so that we don't get killed."

"How?" Zacharias asked skeptically, his face a little pale.

"Felix Felicis." I stated simply and then remembered that only Ernie was in my potions class. "It's a luck potion. If we all have some-"

"Then we'll be lucky and won't die." Ernie said. "Brilliant."

"I mean, you could die, you know?" I asked, smirking slightly. "If you jumped off the tower or something. It doesn't make you invincible. But it should give an edge so that you avoid being killed."

"So-" Rose started but I interrupted her.

"You, Rose, are staying in the dorm. You don't know enough yet to be in a real battle. I want you to stay in the common room."

Rose pouted, but said nothing.

"I just wanted to let you all know." I said gently. "If you have your D.A. coin, you'll know when they are going to attack."

"What about Dumbledore?" Justin asked desperately.

"He's been leaving the castle frequently." I said. "Tonks, Professor Lupin, and Bill Weasley will be part of the guard protecting the castle, including all the Professors. They won't have expected this. I already saw Dumbledore. He will take necessary precautions, but we can't think that the Death Eaters won't find a way in regardless."

"Alright." Ernie said.

"That's why you want to give the Professors the drawing tomorrow." Zacharias said. "Not because of all the crap you spewed in the common room."

I smirked, "You know me so well Zach."

He scowled, "Don't call me Zach."

"Anyways." I said, having no more information to tell them. "I thought you guys should know, no matter what path you guys decide to take." I slipped the two bottles of Felix Felicis from my pocket and handed it to Ernie. "This is in case I'm not there. They both have twenty-four hours worth inside of them. I wasn't sure how much would be needed. I wouldn't drink an excessive amount and I wouldn't drink it unless you plan on being at the fight. Save it for the fight, don't drink any before. Ernie, I'm entrusting you with this, okay?"

"Why?" Ernie asked surprised, but also took the bottles, holding them gingerly in his hands.

"Because," I said. "You're kind've like the leader in my book. And plus, if you aren't around, both Susan and Hannah can get into your room whereas boys can't get into girls' dorms. It's also more convenient if you have them."

"Practical." Ernie said with a nod.

There seemed almost a sort of pact that was surrounding us, including Rose though she was still pouting.

My throat seemed unusually tight. I knew the futures of Ernie and Susan and Hannah. I knew that Zacharias Smith would flee the battle of Hogwarts next year, pushing first-years out of the way to escape. I wondered how I could be friends with a person like that and yet, there was a fondness I had with him. I supposed that there was a part of people that didn't choose who they made friends with: it was all up to chance.

I did not know Roses' future and I did not know Justin's. For all I knew, they both would die next year. Justin being a muggle-born, of course, would definitely be on the kill list. Rose was a half-blood and young, but yet determined to fight. Just like Colin. My throat closed again.

"I just. . ." I said softly. "Not necessarily this year. . . but next year. . . no matter what happens. . . I am proud to call all of you my friends."

Ernie swallowed, putting his hand out and I put my hand over it. Susan and Hannah reached out, touching our hands and Rose's tinier hand joined ours. Zacharias hesitated while Justin reached a hesitant hand out. We did not wait long but Zacharias finally put his hand over Justin's. We all let go at the same time, heading back up to the castle in silence.

IT. That's what the circle outside reminded me of. The kids in IT had made a promise, they'd always come back to each other. Of course, there was no promise between us, but it felt something like that.

Of course, they'd also cut their hands open with a coke bottle and let their blood mix together. At least we hadn't done that.

Once inside the castle, we went out separate ways.

I found Trang sitting with Anthony Goldstein and Padma Patil and Terry Boot and few other Ravenclaws.

"Hey Kane!" Anthony greeted me brightly. "What's up?"

I held out two bottles of Felix Felicis. "Do you guys know what this is?"

"Yeah," Terry said. "That's Felix Felicis. Did you get that from Slughorn?"

"No," I said, shaking my head to emphasize the word. "I brewed it myself."

The Ravenclaws looked around at each other, clearly impressed. Trang however, was gazing at me in a worried look.

"So. . ." Trang said slowly, "What are you giving us two bottles of luck potion?"

I hesitated, "I can't go into the details yet. . .but if you guys still have your D.A. coins, I would pay attention to those."

Smiles started to fade from the Ravenclaws faces.

"When you get that message, I would drink some of this, those of you who want to anyways."

"There's going to be an attack, isn't there?" Padma asked.

I hesitated and then said, "Something like that, yes, but if you don't want to fight, you can stay in the dorm. The attacks will only happen in the corridors." I held the bottles out to Anthony. He seemed to be the best candidate. He'd wanted to come to the Ministry last year. I was almost confident that he would fight. Or, we would find that all his talk last year had been just that- talk. He hesitated for a second and then reached out, and took them, pocketing them.

I got up and left the library. I felt lighter than I had before. I had one more potion that would go to the Gryffindors after I told them about the D.A. coins. Then I would have my own small potion that was back in my room with Severus.

"Elizabeth!" Trang's voice was sharp as she called down the hallway after me. I sighed, slightly unhappy with what was going to happen next.

"Hi. Trang." I said, not stopping as she caught up with me. I was making my way up to the Gryffindor Tower.

"You won't be participating in the fight, right?" Trang asked.

I stopped walking, "You won't be fighting either, right?"

We stared at each other, measuring each other.

"You have a child." Trang said.

"You don't know enough to fight." I said sharply. "Besides, that's what the Felix Felicis is for, luck. I won't get hurt when I drink it."

"And you're sure about that?" Trang asked skeptically.

"You should put more stock into magical potions." I said, walking again. Perhaps I would find a single Gryffindor and tell them to spread around the idea of D.A. coins. "Besides, what I can see, no one dies."

"Did you see everyone your enlisting in the fight?"

"No, because when Hermione used the D.A. coin, only Luna and Neville answered the call. That's why I made more Felix Felicis."

Trang sighed, "Is there anything I can say that will keep you from fighting and staying alive for Remus?"

I turned on her, angry. "Do you think this is easy, Trang? When I say no one is going to die, I mean, no one who fights. But Bill will be bitten by Greyback which will leave a scar and Dumbledore's going to die."

"Dumbledore's going to die?" Trang asked in horror.

I looked around carefully but the few people walking through the hallways were fifth-years worrying over their O.W.L. exams that I knew (but they didn't) were going to be canceled because Dumbledore was going to die.

"Severus kills him." I whispered.

"Oh my God, Elizabeth, I'm so sorry." Trang whispered.

"Dumbledore asked him to." I said.

Trang's sad face drew back into a puzzled one. "What?"

"Dumbledore called it a last act of loyalty."

"Dumbledore's crazy!"

"You can't tell anyone, it's imperative that they all think Severus betrayed us." I said glumly.

"I'm sorry." Trang said more sincerely. "That's got to be tough."

"Let's just hope that I don't spill that he was killing him on Dumbledore's word." I said sadly.

Seamus and Dean walked past us with Parvati and Lavender.

"Dean!" I called and the four of them turned.

"What's up Elizabeth?" Dean asked.

I couldn't bring myself to look at Lavender.

"Um, do you guys still have your D.A. coins?" I asked in a casual voice.

"Yeah." Parvati said.

"Somewhere." Seamus said with a shrug.

"Why?" Dean asked.

"Find them." I said. "And let anyone else from Gryffindor who was in the club know, but around our age or older, okay? And here, take this." I thrusted the bottle of Felix Felicis at Dean.

"What is this?" He asked.

"Felix Felicis." I said and I wondered how many more times I had to say those two words. "Luck potion."

The words seemed to mean different things to different people and it was Parvati who figured out what I meant.

"There's going to be an attack, isn't there?" She asked. She was just like her sister. "And Dumbledore isn't going to be able to stop it."

I nodded, "Dumbledore won't even be here. There'll be the teachers of course, and a few extra protectors, but not enough. I didn't originally see you all fighting, any of your for that matter, but that was only because you guys don't check your D.A. coins. Of course, Harry hasn't scheduled meetings so that's not your fault. Originally, it would only be Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Luna, and Neville."

"Just like the Ministry." Lavender said but I tried blocking out her voice.

"Something like that, yes." I said.

"We'll find our coins." Dean promised.

"Thanks." I said with a half-hearted smile. "But-"

They turned back to face me.

"Don't come if you're not up to it. And remember, that's twenty-four hours worth so you guys should split it between yourselves. When the coin burns, join Hermione and Ron. Staying in the common rooms will keep you safe if you're not up to the fight."

I turned and walked off with Trang towards the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom and respectively: Severus and Remus.

"At least you're warning them." Trang said lightly.

"Yes." I said. "Let's just hope that Draco doesn't catch wind of what we're spreading around. Surely he has to expect that I would've foreseen this, right?"

"Your nervous that he hasn't done anything to incapacitate you?" Trang asked curiously.

I frowned as we approached the classroom door. "I would think he would try keeping tabs on me so see if I tell anyone but I've doubled back and checked my surroundings triple times, I haven't found any signs."

"Maybe under his stress he forgot." Trang said with a shrug, "He's been looking sick recently."

"That is true. . ." I said hesitantly.

We entered the office. Severus had fallen asleep by the crib, his head resting on the bars of the crib, his mouth slack. Remus was also sleeping.

"He is precious." Trang said with a smile and forgetting our argument, we took Remus out of the crib and took turns holding him.

A knock at the door woke Severus and startled both Trang and me. Severus was on his feet in an instant. Trang and I hurried behind his desk, pretending as though we were in detention. I held Remus to my chest tightly, though not enough to hurt him.

"Oh, Professor McGonagall." Severus said in an uncomfortable voice.

"I was to give you this." Professor McGonagall's voice floated through the door. Severus left a huff of breath as though he was carrying something heavy and the door closed shut. I turned to see him holding a large package in his hands.

"What's that?" I asked curiously, handing Remus over to Trang so that I could go and take a look.

"No idea." Severus said, budging the door to our bedroom open and dumped the box on the bed.

He opened the package with care and kind've just stared into the box and then said, "It's obviously from Dumbledore. . . I think."

I peered into the box and saw the strangest things that I would have ever expected to see in the box. There were muggle baby toys and clothes.

"Oh." I said in surprise. "I wonder when he had time to get these."

Trang came over now, holding Remus in her arms and said, "Isn't he a little young for rattles?"

"But not stuffed animals." I said and though I was still confused, I reached in to take out a small panda bear toy before Severus took my hand carefully.

"Let me just go over it quickly, okay?" He asked. "For any dark arts. There's no name, I simply assumed it was from Dumbledore which was not a good idea."

"Test it for what exactly?" Trang asked, sounding skeptical.

"Poison, hexes, jinxes." I recited. "Transfiguration spells, anything really."

"Oh." Trang said and she held Remus farther away from the box.

"Check the panda bear toy first, please Sev." I said. "I'd like to give that to him right away."

"Will do." Severus said gently.

Trang and I took Remus back out to the main area and we played with him for a long time before Trang retired to the Ravenclaw common room.

Severus had moved Remus' crib into the bedroom in case someone unexpected came in without knocking and so I went back into the bedroom and laid Remus in his crib, carefully covering him with a blanket. He cooed and I looked down at him, smiling.

Meanwhile, Severus had separated the toys into two piles, though I didn't know what it meant. "Anything dangerous?" I asked.

"Nothing from what I've seen." Sev sighed, putting his wand down on the desk. "But I thought we should sleep with the stuffed animals before we give it to him."

I smiled, trying not to laugh at the silliness of the idea, and put a hand against his cheek. "You're a great dad, you know that?"

Severus was still fretting. "I mean, I did try reverse charms and revealing spells and I even hugged the damn thing, but I still don't know if it's safe."

Another knock on the door. Severus quickly swept through the bedroom door, snatching his wand from the table and shut the door behind him.

The voices were muffled though I knew the visitor was a man though I didn't recognize any one distinct voice.

He came back after a few minutes and picked up the panda bear, putting it in the crib with Remus and then turned to me, "It was Dumbledore." He said grudgingly, cheeks red. "I got paranoid."

I chuckled, helping him place all the other toys and clothes into the box they had come in. "Like I said, a great dad."

Severus pulled me into bed so that we could enjoy the night together. But like I said before: Remus doesn't like sleep.

⬅️➡️

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weirdthoughtsandideas · 1 year ago

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5 and Violetta. But this time, can you get something else than Angie babysitting Vilu? Those are really cute but I wanna see what else kinds of babysitting stories you can create.

5 - Someone is babysitting.

Alright - so, babysitting is always interesting in dcla because no one in canon has any child that is of an age where they need a sitter (except for maybe Esmeralda's daughter Ambar. When I think about it, that would be hilarious... but it's not what I will write today). Which means you have 4 options: 1. Go into the future, where someone babysits someone's future kid 2. Have it still be set in the show's present, and create kids for them to babysit. Someone's younger cousin or sibling, maybe. 3. Have it be set in the past, when one of the characters was young and gets babysat by someone. This is one I often pick simply because I just love the idea of Angie bonding with Violetta in her early age, and Violetta causing trouble that Angie needs to fix. 4. Go bananas and let a character randomly get regressed into a kid and then they need to be babysat while someone tries to get them to go back to their normal age. I will choose to have it be set in the past again. This time it's Camila, who is around 8, and her 3 younger sisters. I first thought of having it in the present and let Camila's friends help her babysit her sisters, but I thought it would be way funnier if she also was a part of the kids causing chaos. The babysitter, I first thought it would just be someone random, but to make it more funny: It's Priscila. By the reason being that I think Cami and Ludmi were born around the same time and their mothers hung out when they were babies, and now Priscila is doing her mom a favor... by seeing what happens when kids get raised in an opposite enviroment.

"Thank you SO MUCH for doing this, Priscila!" Mrs Torres said.

"I owe you from the time you babysat Ludmila when I needed to go to an appointment."

"Well, the girls are all in the living room. Girls! We're leaving!"

"Bye!" several voices called back. Priscila was a bit baffled that none of them even went up to wave their parents off. She'd find it a bit rude if her Ludmila would have done that. Nonetheless, these girls must still be pleasant. Not that she knew them very well, and she had not really kept in contact with their mother a lot either besides some brief phone calls and catching up whenever they ran into each other in stores, but how hard could this be?

She stepped into the living room, where four girls sat on the couch, watching TV. The oldest was Camila. She recognized her immediately. She had a little baby in her lap, seemingly the youngest. The other two seemed to be around 5 years old, and was dressed exactly the same. Priscila knew Mrs. Torres had twins, but last time she saw them they were sleeping a stroller when the family was out grocery shopping.

"Hello," she said.

"Hi," Camila said. She and her sisters were way too busy watching whatever kids show was on to even pay attention to her. Priscila glanced at the screen, and frowned.

"What kind of kids show is this?"

"It's not a kids show," one of the twins said. "It's an adult show."

"Why are you watching an adult show?!"

"Lola needs to get cultured," Camila explained, "She will never be anything if she just watches teletubbies."

"Who is Lola?"

Camila stood up, holding the baby. "This is Lola. I'm Camila."

"I know. You've grown so much!"

"And we are Eva and Ada!" said the twins in unison, so you could not tell who was who.

"Quick, sit back down, he's about to shoot him!" Eva or Ada said. Camila excitedly sat back down.

"Look, Lola!" she cooed to the baby, "Violence!"

"No!" Priscila said and instantly turned off the TV. All the girls started to mutter and complain. "How long is your TV time?"

"TV time?" Camila asked. "We just watch TV as long as we feel like it."

"You don't have a TV time? My daughter has a maximum of 1 hour every day, and she needs to take a break after every 20 minutes."

"Your daughter seems to have a very boring life."

Priscila sighed. "Maybe you need something to eat."

It turned out, the Torres girls did not have any table manners whatsoever. Priscila expected the baby to eat messily, but she was by far the cleanest out of them all. The twins ate with their hands like wild animals and Camila chewed with an open mouth.

"Is this how you eat in public?" she asked, horrified.

"We're not in public," Camila argued.

"Yeah, and at home we can be free!" Eva or Ada exclaimed, making everyone cheer.

"I think you should have a table manner everywhere..." Priscila said. If this was her own daughter, she'd scold her right away. But since this wasn't her kids, she was so unsure what to do. And it got worse.

"Ada! Think fast!" Eva shouted and threw a meatball on her. Ada laughed and threw it back. The two started to have a food fight.

"Hey, I wanna have a food fight too!" Camila said, and one of the twins threw a carrot on her. The three laughed as they threw more and more food on each other. Their baby sister just stared blankly into thin air and Priscila started to lose her mind.

She stood up and slammed her hands on the table. "ENOUGH!"

The girls stopped.

"It's not okay to throw food at each other. Food is for eating! Look, you scared your little sister."

Camila looked at the baby. "No, we didn't. She just pooped her pants."

The twins giggled and Camila took out Lola from the high chair. "She always does that face when she pooped herself." She sniffed at the baby slightly and then handed her over to Priscila. "Go change her."

"Me?"

"You're the babysitter. We are just kids. We don't know how to change a diaper."

Priscila hesitantly took the baby. "Alright, but you need to clean this up when I am back!"

About half an hour later, Priscila came back, barely wanting to hold Lola, as she put her down on the floor. The others noticed Lola was wearing a completely different outfit.

"Why did it take so long?" Camila asked, "For me it just takes a minute."

"Wait, but you said you didn't know how to change diapers?"

Camila smirked, "I was just joking because I wanted you to do it."

Priscila sighed. "Have you cleaned up in the kitchen?"

"Yes."

Priscila went inside. Indeed, the kitchen seemed to be clean. She felt a bit of relief. At least they could do something. She decided to open the cupboard to get a glass. She needed some water. But as she opened the cupboard...

"AAAAAAAAAAAA-"

The girls came running in after hearing the blood curdling scream. They started laughing as they saw Priscila covered in food.

"Did you like our prank?" the twins asked in unison.

"I thought you said you had cleaned it up!"

"We decided to have some fun and put all the food in the cupboard instead!" Camila explained.

They noticed how Priscila's eyes started twitching. They found that to be even more funny.

Priscila stomped into the bathroom to clean herself up. As she got back up again, she was met with a new scenario. The twins had the bright idea to get the toy wagon their little sister used to practice walking to ride down the stairs with. Camila was the one who was pushing, fully into this idea. Lola meanwhile, had been left unattended and was heading towards the DVD-VHS player, planning to lick it. Priscila instantly ran to the baby to get her away. At the same time, Camila pushed the twins down the stairs, and the wagon came in rapid speed, crashing into Priscila.

Everyone was laughing as Priscila was on the floor. But now Priscila truly had enough.

"ALL OF YOU! TO THE COUCH, NOW!"

They all sat down as she tried to take deep breaths.

"No more," she muttered. "You will all sit here until your parents arrive!"

Camila glanced at the window. Then she smirked. "Okay."

Not even a minute later, the front door opened.

"We're home!" Mrs Torres announced.

Priscila came up to them. "Oh, thank heavens..."

"Have the girls been good?"

"Well, you see-"

"Aww!"

Priscila was caught off guard. The girl's mother was now staring at the couch, where all the Torres girls "magically" had fallen asleep.

"They must've really tired themselves out. Thank you for babysitting, Priscila."

"I... no problem...?"

The parents went to take off their coats as Priscila got one final glance on the girls. That's when Camila opened her eyes, and gave Priscila a smug, almost evil looking face. She wiggled her eyebrows and then closed her eyes again.

Priscila barely said goodbye, and decided to never set her foot in that house ever again.

#yes eva and ada are cami's younger sisters and you have no proof against it #violetta #camila torres #thanks for the ask!#drabbles #priscila ferro

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