#and i could turn the heater on but it will stay on for what? 20-30 minutes? an hour max? like for it to stay on longer ill have to set it
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its been raining all week and it will be raining all of next week. today was the only day we had sun and it was wasted because she still has her clothes in the washing machine.
#i guess she is the only one who needs to have clean clothes#i don't even know how she always has so many dirty clothes#like does she change clothes 3 times per day and only wear everything once? because she does laundry more than anyone else in the building#anyway i guess ill have to wait another week to do laundry#because i cant even turn on the humidifier mode on the ac cause the landlord took our ac controllers#and i could turn the heater on but it will stay on for what? 20-30 minutes? an hour max? like for it to stay on longer ill have to set it#above 25 degrees and thats too much and the clothes wont even get that dry and the humidity will still be inside#no one told me that i would spend all of my uni years worrying about washing my clothes#jo says stuff#personal ramblings
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˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ WANT U SO BAD, MISTER !
FROM : gepard / fem! reader
SUBJECT : it's immoral to want a sweet little thing like you, especially when he's well into his 30s and you're still a youngling in your 20s. but should he really feel guilty, when you want him just as bad?
( hopefully this is a bit more tame than my other works; age gap; pússy rubbing; gepard feels guilty; dubcon turned consensual )
gepard knows you’re a sweet thing. when he walks into serval’s workshop for his visits, you always greet him with a smile so sunny it could combat the eternal freeze. you’d drop the little machine you were tinkering with and head into the back to pull out a tray of desserts you’ve baked and trot right over to him. they’re originally for serval, who’d usually become too immersed in her work to remember to eat. but you are ever the dutiful assistant, looking after her whilst picking up some of the more trivial machinery to fix.
when he picks up a still warm cookie, he thanks you. his eyes linger a bit too long on your back when you run off to where you originally were.
serval leans over the counter with a shit-eating smile, chomping into a cookie. “oh, my cute lil brother,” she laughs. “you’ve got a decade on the kid. does the righteous captain of the silvermane guards really wanna go down that alley?”
the next time he comes over, serval is nowhere to be seen. you occupy her usual place at the counter, tongue peeking out from the side of your mouth as you focus on picking apart a faulty machine. you barely hear the chiming of the bell when he comes in, and only come to your senses when his broad shadow looms over you.
“oh, dear!” you gasp, pulling up your goggles. “i am so sorry mister gepard. i didn’t hear you come in.”
something about being alone with you without his nosy older sister in sight makes him even more awkward and nervous. “that’s alright,” he coughs. “where is serval, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“she was called in by the supreme guardian to discuss some internal repairs to qlipoth forth’s security devices.” you quickly sweep off the machine parts off the counter and smile up at him, to which his heart skips a beat. “sit, sit! i baked a fresh new batch of pastries in the back. i’ll bring it right out.”
so when he does take a seat and see you scamper off to the kitchen, he is left alone with the silence and his thoughts… of you, and those particularly nice tights you’re wearing. young belobogians often have their fashionable trends to combat the cold, but he wonders how warm those tights might be if they’re so thin they show off those pretty legs of yours.
white lace patterned in seductive heart patterns, teasing his eyes with the smooth skin beneath them. where those pretty tights end, they dig into your skin and emphasize the softness of it. he buries his face into his hand as he thinks of squeezing and grabbing them, trailing kisses up them till he—
“mister gepard?” your worried face suddenly appears in front of him. “oh no, did i turn the heater up too high? ah, i’ll fix it right now!”
“n-no, it’s fine, [your name],” he grabs your wrist, still blushing. “it’s not hot, really. just that…” his eyes wander into the plush skin between your shorts and tights, before he catches himself and forces to make eye contact with you. “nothing… it’s nothing. i… really should be going now.”
“even when i have something for you to eat?” you pout. “please stay for a little while, mister gepard.”
“angh… [your name], please, this isn’t appropriate…!”
“what’s wrong, mister gepard sir?” your face bearing the innocence of an angel, you cock your head at him as if you’re not milking his cock dry. through your panties (blue and white stripes, gepard’s mind unnecessarily observes, and he blushes) your pussy lips hug his throbbing cock between them, and you let out a keen moan when his fat head grinds against your clit. “but you looked so hungry! i thought maybe i’d let your friend have a taste.”
his big hands clench the sheets behind them, trying to stop himself from grabbing your hips. he grits his teeth and he looks up at you with a desperate pleading look. “please, dear,” he near begs. “you shouldn’t be doing this with a man my age.”
he’s in the early stages of his 30s, you’re barely 20. he’s lived an entire decade more than you, have touched and broken the hearts of women older than you, have tasted and succumbed to the pleasure of bodily desire more than you have— gepard can imagine that you barely had your first kiss. it’s like he’s taking advantage of you, even when you’re the one who unbuttoned his pants and pulled his erection out of them. he doesn’t want this, doesn’t like this— even when his breath goes ragged at the heat of your warm pussy.
“but!” you pout, and you squelch your cunt against an angry vein running along the side of his dick. you’re so fucking wet, it’s unimaginable. are all young pussies like this, or do you just want him that bad? he throws his head back when you drip all over him. “i’ve always admired you, mister gepard. you’re so handsome and gentlemanly, and then i catch you looking at me like that. don’t you think it’s unfair for you to reject me like that?”
“i—! a-ah…?!” a sharp moan comes out from him when you thumb the slit of his dick. “it’s no good for someone like me to… ngh… to chase after you. it’s— it’s wrong!” his protests barely reach you as you marvel at the heat in your palm. it’s sooo big, and your thumb and index finger can only slightly touch each other. you drag your throbbing cunny again, making sure to coat the entire length in your own slick. gepard whimpers with every drag, eyes peeking out from behind his hands as he watches you debauch your body with his perverted length. it’s disgusting, he shouldn’t be doing this to you–!
you can barely control yourself as you sit back and admire his cock, shiny with your slick and throbbing needily. a gentle graze of your finger already has it twitching like mad.
“poor thing…” you say in pity. “looks like you need a loooot of help, mister gepard.”
“please, [your name], dear.” he sounds breathless as he begs you not to do this to yourself. his heart beats louder and louder as he watches you prop yourself up with a cunning smile, and tease your hole with his leaky tip. you grab onto his chest for support, looking down at him like an angel-turned-devil.
“this is my thanks for protecting us from the eternal freeze~” no no no no, the tip of his length is sinking into you, and the pulse of your warm pussy is making him lose his mind by the second. his thighs are shaking as he controls himself to not plunge it all in. you’re not a monster, gepard, he scolds himself. just tell them to stop. they’re a sweet kid, they’ll un–
“f– fuck!” gepard yells out when you sink onto the rest of his length, and his back is arched while you smile in ecstasy after finally taking the whole thing. “[y - your name]...! you…!”
licking your lips, your hand trails down to your stretched out cunny, spreading your legs as you show off the pussy lips that have taken in his dick. it’s a perverse, filthy sight. it’s exactly the kind of thing the landaus have taught him not to fallen prey to. he was to marry a gentlewoman, of proper breeding, and make love to her in a noble and loving way.
but here he is, breath cut short as he stares wide-eyed at you. you and your pussy dripping around his throbbing length, hands stretching your lips so you can show it all off and remind him just how much he’s fallen.
and with the way you look at him, he thinks he was wrong in even thinking you were ever a good kid.
#honkai star rail x reader#honkai star rail#honkai star rail smut#hsr smut#gepard x reader#gepard landau#gepard smut#nite.writes
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Untitled's Prompt Writing - Generic
This 1/3 list of Prompts that I would like to do writing on Steve Harrington (I know, I'm biased. Sue Me.)
18/1/23 - Change of plans more bois are coming into the picture 😆
All of the lists will be credited to @justforshitsandcackles - I just changed some of them to fit to the universes I will write about. I'll roll a dice thrice to know who will I do the story about, what genre and number I do.
There will be no requests, but I could change my mind over time :3
1. “You know we’re meant to be.”
2. “The thought of losing you scares me.”
3. “Would you just shut up and kiss me already?”
4. “You’re staring again.”
5. “Wow. you look stunning.”
6. “What are you doing here? It’s late.”
7. “I missed you so much.”
8. “Don’t smile at me like that. You know it drives me crazy.”
9. “Mine.”
10. “I’m going to marry you one day.”
11. “You cant banish me! This is my bed/bedroom too!”
12. “You’re seriously like a man-child.”
13. “Stop being so cute.”
14. “I feel like i cant breathe when i’m around you.”
15. “It was a joke, baby. I swear.”
16. “Are you seriously giving me the silent treatment?”
17. “Will you just hold me?”
18. “What do you have behind your back?”
19. “Not to toot my own horn or anything, but the dog loves me more.”
20. “You look really good in my sweater.”
21. “No, i’m not letting you go. It’s too early to get out of bed.”
22. “I’m not going to stop poking you until you give me some attention.”
23. “You’re so cute when you’re half asleep like this.”
24. “Lets just stay in bed.”
25. “Is that my shirt?”
26. “No, like..its just, i cant believe you’re actually wearing my clothes.”
27. “Can you stop playing connect the dots with my freckles?”
28. “Are you planning to stay glued to my side the whole day?”
29. “Wow- you look…amazing.”
30. “I’m not jealous! Its just..you’re mine!”
31. “You snuck into my room, at 4am…to cuddle?”
32. “This is gonna sound cheesy but….I love when you’re half asleep and talking nonsense.”
33. “What? No! I wasn’t staring…I-I was looking at something behind you!”
34. “Stop being so cute.”
35. “Tell me again.”
36. “Can’t you stay a little longer?”
37. “Because i love you god damnit!”
38. “Wait a minute.. are you jealous?”
39. “I really want to kiss you right now.” || “Then do it.”
40. “I love you. You enormously stubborn pain in the ass.”
41. “I heard that!” || “You were supposed to!”
42. “I turned out liking you a lot more than i originally planned.”
43. “Even when we were kids, i always kicked your ass!”
44. “Why should we date?” || “Because we’re attracted to each other.” || “I’m attracted to pie, but i do not feel the need to date pie.”
45. “Where have you been all my life?” || “Hiding from you.”
46. “Somehow, i always seem to end up here. With you.” || “Soulmate shit, it’s hardcore as hell.”
47. “I love you.” || “Thats nice.”
48. “How do i look?”
49. “If i didn’t know you better, i’d say you were trying to flirt by giving me books.”
50. “No! It’s your turn!”
51. “Enjoying the view, beautiful?”
52. “Be careful, he’s so sweet you might get diabetes.”
53. “I cant sleep without you. I need my personal body heater and cuddles.”
54. “How am i supposed to spoil you when you wont accept my gifts?”
55. “While i do enjoy the silent treatment, i wasn’t aware i had done anything to you.”
56. “What, you’ve never thought about us?”
57. “Why is your hand sweating so much?”
58. “So, we’re just going to ignore the fact that you drunk-dialed me to tell me you love me?”
59. “Im pretty sure your mom hates me.”
60. “You’re such a fun drunk.”
61. “Since my dog likes you then i guess i like you.”
62. “Tell them to fuck off.”
63. “It’s six o’clock in the morning, you’re not having vodka.”
64. “I want to strangle you 99% of the time.”
65. “Could you not suck for five minutes?”
66. “The ladies love a guy who’s good with kids.”
67. “You can’t banish me! This is my bed/bedroom too!”
68. “You’re seriously like a man-child.”
69. “Well thats tragic.”
70. “I’m too sober for this.”
71. “You are actually insane!”
72. “I think you’re actually satan.”
73. “It’s like -50 degrees in here.”
74. “Laugh at my jokes! They’re funny and you know it!”
75. “Sorry isn’t going to help when i kick your ass!”
76. “Don’t let one of them electrocute themselves or something.”
77. “Holy shit! That thing is huge!”
78. “Don’t kink shame me.”
79. “I hope i’m never stuck with you on a deserted island.”
80. “I just cleaned that!”
81. “Don’t get sassy with me!”
82. “What do you have behind your back?”
83. “If you interrupt me one more time, so help me god.”
84. “Not to toot my own horn or anything, but the dog loves me more.”
85. “I’m going to put on some clothes before you say anything else.”
86. “Bite me.”
87. “If you insist.”
88. “Im not going to stop poking you until you give me some attention.”
89. “I need you to be my fake girlfriend/boyfriend.”
90. “Can you stop playing connect the dots with my freckles?”
91. “You snuck into my room, at 4am..to cuddle?”
92. “If we get caught i’m blaming you.”
93. “What? No! I wasn’t staring..i-i was looking at something behind you!”
94. “I locked the keys in the car.”
95. “This is why we can’t have nice things.”
96. “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”
97. “Define normal.”
98. “Do i get bonus points if i act like i care?”
99. “Just remember if we get caught, you’re deaf and i don’t speak english.”
100. “Don’t look for any redeeming qualities. I don’t have any.”
101. “And you wonder why you’re single.”
102. “Remind me to kill you. Please.”
103. “I’m listening to you. I’m just not paying attention.”
104. “She’s crazy. and just when you think you’ve reached the bottom of her craziness, theres a crazy underground garage.”
105. “Sorry. I don’t speak skank.”
106. “My middle finger salutes you.”
107. “I don’t think i could ever stab someone. I mean, lets be honest, i can barely get the straw in the capri sun.”
108. “I don’t have enough middle fingers to let you know how i feel.”
109. “Somebodys cranky.”
110. “Somebody needs to shut up.”
111. “All due respect but thats a bunch of crap.”
112. “I am one of the few people in the world who can murder you and leave no forensic evidence behind.”
113. “Excuse me. I have to go make a scene.”
114. “What did i tell you about calling him/her the devil?”
115. “That it’s offensive to the devil?”
116. “I heard that!”
117. “You were supposed to!”
118. “I’m not weird. I’m limited edition.”
119. “If history repeats itself, i am so getting a dinosaur.”
120. “You seem somewhat familiar. have i threatened you before?”
121. “Even when we were kids, i always kicked your ass!”
122. “Sarcasm is the body’s natural reaction to stupidity.”
123. “Don’t look in her eyes, she might steal your soul.”
124. “She’s hot, but she’s evil.”
125. “Do i regret it? Yes. Would i do it again? Probably.”
126. “You’re going to burn in a very special level in hell. A level they reserve for child molesters, animal abusers, and people who talk at the theater.”
127. “I’m not a damsel in distress. i’m a damsel doing damage.”
128. “Sometimes i question my sanity. Occasionally it replies.”
129. “Why should we date?”
130. “Because we’re attracted to each other.”
131. “I am attracted to pie, but i do not feel the need to date pie.”
132. “Why does everyone assume the worst of me.”
133. “It saves time.”
134. “You’ve successfully cured him/her of anything interesting about his/her personality.”
135. “Neither one of us is drunk enough for this conversation.”
136. “Wow somebody needs a happy meal.”
137. “I didn’t do it!”
138. “Then why are you laughing?”
139. “Because whoever did it is a freaking genius.”
140. “Idiots. I’m surrounded by idiots.”
141. “You couldn’t handle me even if i came with instructions.”
142. “Obviously you have mistaken me for somebody who gives a shit.”
143. “I’m so glad you could come.”
144. “Cut the crap. give me a drink.”
145. “Where have you been all my life?”
146. “Hiding from you.”
147. “I can tell that you think what you’re saying is funny, but...no.”
148. “If you pull out my earphones, i will pull out your lungs.”
149. “Ah, he’s playing hard-to-get. thats cute.”
150. “I feel like a freakin’ soccer mom.”
151. “My ex? Yeah id still hit that. Except this time it would be with a car or a baseball bat.”
152. “Such big evil in such a little thing.”
153. “For the love of fuck.”
154. “Yep, thats me. i love to fuck.”
155. “Are you ready to go?”
156. “Yeah. let me grab my machete.”
157. “We’re going to sephora. no machetes needed.”
158. Clears throat seriously, “Yas bitch.”
159. “No road trip is complete without the snacks. So go in there and buy everything you can fit in a tiny cart.”
160. “I’m all for making you miserable by being insufferable, but unfortunately i have things to do today.”
161. “Come on, you can help me make conspiracy theories. If you make an especially good one, ill pay for dinner.”
162. “You know what? Why not? I haven’t ruined my life yet this week. Lets go.”
163. “Do these dark circles under my eyes say nothing to you about how i am doing?”
164. “If i didn’t know you better, id say you were trying to flirt by giving me books.”
165. “What are you talking about? Im hilarious!”
166. “Duct tape? Duct tape is not going to fix this!”
167. “What did you think? That you were going to fight him?”
168. “You’re blocking the view.”
169. “I am the view.”
170. “Why are you on the floor?”
171. “Tying my shoe.”
172. “You’re wearing rain-boots.”
173. “Cant stop me from slaying!”
174. “Close your eyes and imagine it, all the dogs in the world.”
175. “Be careful, he’s so sweet you might get diabetes.”
176. “Would you reconsider if i was sober?”
177. “Stop running i’m wearing flip flops!”
178. “Why are you holding your boobs?”
179. “I wouldn’t call it stalking, more like far distance admiring.”
180. “You need to stop making her laugh! you’re ruining her makeup!”
181. “I’m sure i can get some kind of sexual gratification from just staring at him if i try hard enough.”
182. “I’m not sure if its a sexual thing or not.”
183. “I’m either in the mood for french fries or to rip someone’s head off. Hmmm. decisions, decisions.”
184. “If you’re not out of the shower in the next five minutes, i’m going to cut your fucking hair off to make your life quicker.”
185. “No, i will not dress up as a chicken.”
186. “I never told my extended family that we broke up, and now they want to know when you’re coming over for dinner again.”
187. “I need a date to my relatives wedding, and i’ve already asked literally everyone else i know, so i know you probably hate me, but please say yes. Otherwise they’ll try to set me up with someone, and they have awful taste.”
188. “One more sound and i swear to-”
189. “Sometimes when (name) texts me, i just pretend they didn’t so i don’t have to respond.”
190. “You gave our pigeon boyfriend the wrong beans!”
191. “If i’m like 50 and still single, ill marry you because tax benefits.”
192. “Please, never have children.”
193. “I know its like 11pm, but i’m on my way to your house with nacho fries.”
194. “Sometimes i wish i was gay so i wouldn’t have to deal with all these dumbass boys.
195. “You know, would’ve been nice if you told me your whole ass family was coming to this dinner! I look like a troll.”
196. “Im going to the party to pet the dog, no thanks drugs.”
197. “I hope in college i get some excuse to deck him. Maybe with a bottle or something, ill wing it and be like “oops, sorry shithead, my hand slipped.”
198. “What is this shit...i’m just trying to graduate.”
199. “Ooo, i sense attitude in your tone.”
200. “Guess who only got two hours of sleep? Me, lol, i’m gonna die.“
201. “I’m gonna strangle you.”
202. “Is that a threat or a promise?”
203. “Superheroes aren’t allowed in my house, especially after they’ve destroyed my living room. go away.”
204. “oh you’re coming. even if i have to drag you through the snow in your pajamas.”
205. “i swear you’re gonna end up getting like botox in your tits or something.”
206. “well i mean-”
207. “whAT DO YOU MEAN?!”
#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington blurbs#steve harrington blurb#steve harrington fluff#stranger things#joel miller#joel miller fluff#joel miler x you#joel miller x reader#joel miller blurb#the last of us
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Excursion to the Desert: Day 1
Tuesday morning we wake for our last breakfast at the Villas and load the cars for a 3 day excursion with Desert Majesty. We are 10 women in 2 cars - 6 of us from the art retreat in one car and Coco (our travel agent) and her friends in the other car. As we depart, our driver Abdullah, tells us we have about 6 hours of driving and lots of stops today. I could not believe the traffic - all tour vans as we depart Marrakesh.
First stop before lunch: Telouet Kasbhah, a historic site in small village. At this point, we had already driven a lot of “zig zags” (hairpin turns) of the Atlas Mountains and had to make several stops for those who were car sick. Since I don’t get car sick, I was in the way back of the van, but that didn’t prevent the anxiety of the mountain roads and tailgating culture! After we wandered the historic site, we had lunch at a small rooftop cafe. The landscape was just amazing and the drive took us through so many villages. After lunch we made another stop at a UNESCO World Heritage site, Ksar of Ait-Ben-Haddou. This site still has families living in it, but also felt like a tour attraction at the same time. It has been a popular site for filming like The Gladiator and Game of Thrones and the nearby city had large movie studios and movie themed art and sculptures. We wandered this site for quite some time and a few of us climbed to the very top for amazing views (and interesting to see solar panels on the ancient structures). We continue driving to the Valley of the Roses with a quick ATM stop, but it’s dark before we arrive. Our driver called ahead and asked a shop keeper to stay open for a shopping/bathroom break, so we all bought some handmade beauty products.
Let me pause here and tell you about our bathroom stops...our first stop was a tourist stop with at least 20 vans pulled up out front. The restrooms are sometimes coed, but with men’s/women’s stalls once you get inside. And we had to often pay an attendant coins to enter and/or get toilet paper, so we quickly started carrying our own kleenex, hand sanitizer and took turns paying for each other depending on who had coins! As we progressed into the mountains, sometimes our bathroom stops were just “squat toilets” in the back of shops were you asked for coins and then to shop on your way out.
We finally get to Chez Ichou, our lovely guesthouse for the evening after 9 pm. After we all freshen up, we gather for dinner in a cozy dining room with a warm fireplace blazing. No matter how late, we always have a formal meal. I actually laid my head on the table at one point and another friend says she will leave dinner at 10:30 no matter what course we are on! I don’t leave dinner until 11:15 and got a great night sleep with the heater on and big cozy duvet.
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Surgery - day 1
Before surgery, I had to get medical clearance (requiring bloodwork and an EKG) from my primary care doctor. As well, I had to get a COVID test 72 hours beforehand since it would be 6 days of in-patient stay at the hospital.
I was not allowed to take NSAIDs like ibuprofen for 2 weeks before surgery. No eating or drinking after midnight the night before, no lotion or deodorant after my last shower, and no jewelry.. I was also supposed to stick a scopolamine patch behind my right ear to help with nausea after surgery.
I woke up at 4 AM on Nov 14th, unfortunately dizzy as fuck because of the scopolamine (and what I presume were the interactions with my other meds). I arrived at the hospital at 5:15 AM for the 7:30 AM surgery as directed. After checking in, they took me to a pre-op room for me and my husband (we'll call him J) to wait in. I kept saying "Are you excited?" to him over and over. "Not as excited as you are," he replied. I wiped myself down with disposable sponges, brushed my teeth with mouthwash, cleaned my nose with disinfectant, then put my hospital gown and little grippy socks on. They stuck an IV in me (I hate IVs). The nurse saw fit to tell me it was a "huge needle" before sticking it in, which I was not very happy about.
After much waiting and being introduced to the surgical team one-by-one, I said goodbye to J and my gurney was wheeled to the operating room (whee!). The operating room was full of people, who all were very excited to see me. There was a very positive energy in the room, and they were making quips and jokes. I remember Dr. Keith laughing and saying something about how warmth helps stave off infection while I slid over to the actual operating table and they draped a heated blanket over me. The anaesthesia started flowing, and the last thing I recall is Dr. Keith drawing some sort of symbol on my right knee in green marker (at the time it looked like "Hi :)" which confused the heck out of me, but post-op it just looked like some sort of asterisk). Then I took a nice 20 minute (read: 7 hour) nap.
Around 2 PM or 3, I woke up in a different room, where I would stay until Saturday. Everything hurt. Everything hurt a goddamn lot. My groin hurt. My legs hurt - especially the right one. My head hurt from the scopolamine, my stomach hurt from hunger and thirst. My mouth and throat hurt from the (aforementioned) warmth because the heater was on blast and I was covered in what they called a "bear hugger" blanket, a puffy thing inflated with hot air. I told the nurses that my pain was around a 6, but looking back and using the described pain scale as reference, I was really around a 9. I was exhausted, but it was hard to sleep because of the pain.
There was a huge black thing on my right thigh attached to a tube and giving my leg a very tight, prickly, suction hug. That was my wound vac, which sucked away the goop from my flayed thigh - I could see the viscera peeking out from around the foam's edges. I had three drains attached to little pumps - two on the right, one on the left. There were two pulse oximeter patches leading to a monitor, one from my left middle finger and one from my penis. Two massage wraps were hooked up and wrapped around my calves that took turns squeezing them to keep blood circulating (this was not as nice as it sounds). I still had my IV in. And of course, I had my fucking foley catheter stuck in my urethra. That totalled to 10 wires and tubes tangling me up (if I'm not forgetting any). My friend called me spaghetti.
Other things:
I was not permitted to sit up, or even recline. My head was only allowed to incline 10 degrees. Dr. Keith told me all this in the consult, but I was not anticipating how hellish it would feel to be flat on my back with no ability to even sleep on my side for 6 straight days.
When I looked down, my new phallus was hilariously huge and swollen, looking less like a penis and more like a tube of flesh (which, to be fair, Dr. Keith did warn me about). My brain couldn't decide if this was euphoric or dysphoric and decided to settle on "alien".
I called J and told him my surgery was over. He drove over and brought me snacks. I ate two chocolate chip cookies and then was chastised by the nurses for eating, because I wasn't supposed to eat or drink (not even water) in case I needed to go back to the OR. I was so frustrated that I cried.
I knew from my hysterectomy earlier this year that 5 mg of oxycodone does not affect my pain levels in a significant way, but they had a stronger opiate called dilaudid that was administered through my IV, which helped a bunch. However I had to wait 4 hours between doses, and it definitely wore off before 4 hours.
The visiting hours were 10 AM to 8 PM. J lingered until 8:30 PM since no one kicked him out, but then he had to go home to feed our cat. I had anticipated I'd be sad without him at night, but I felt so lonely and isolated that it was overwhelming with him gone.
I hadn't known this because I had never been inpatient before, but I could barely manage to sleep because nurses came in literally every hour to check my vitals or empty my drains or listen to the pulse in my dick with a stick covered in goo.
I had to beg multiple times for the hospital to bring me my personal belongings, which I'd packed in a small suitcase. Mainly I wanted my cervical pillow and my stuffed bunny to comfort me. It took an interminably long time for the staff to find and bring it, which was another frustration.
Sometime in the night, my bladder felt so much backed up pressure that I used the call button to ask if I was actually urinating or if something was wrong. Someone who clearly didn't know what she was doing informed me that I was indeed peeing and that I just had to think about peeing and it would happen. I used the call button again. A nurse came in and realized my catheter was basically blocked up with urine and not flowing into the piss jug properly because the tube itself was way too long. The urine just. Stopped at some point along the way. She manipulated it to flow into the tube and I felt a lot better, but this problem would plague me throughout my hospital stay.
My feet kept poking past my blankets, which was sensory hell for my adhd, but the wires also tangled me up when I tried to fix it using only my feet, and of course I couldn't sit up. That, and everything else, made my sleep very restless and miserable.
I knew I was having post-op depression, but that didn't help me feel any better.
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Crystal Clear
A/N: Here’s some fluff, friends to lovers I’ve had going on while I work on something bigger :))
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“Y/N,” a strange man calls my name. I look him up and down but I don’t think I know him.
“Who’s asking?”
“Y/N, it’s me? Harry.”
“Oh,” I laugh and greet him how I would have if I’d recognized him under all those layers, in a great big hug. “Your disguise is brilliant!”
“It’s not a disguise,” he says into his coat. “It’s bloody cold here.”
“Coldest day so far,” I accept the hot chocolate from the vendor and ask him for another, Harry could use one, poor thing. His plans this week were changed last minute, and since he was in New York City where his best childhood friend lived, he decided to actually hang out with me. Ever since he got famous, it was hard to catch time with him.
“Did the cold freeze all the English out of you? You’re not even wearing mittens,” Harry accepts his own cup from the vendor.
“I’m got them in my pocket,” I point to the bulge on the side of my coat as we step aside and make our way deeper into the winter festival that was at Bryant Park. “Don’t insult me, I can still make a better cup of tea than you ever could.”
“There she is,” I hear the smile in Harry’s voice more than I see it. It truly was ridiculous--not only was he wearing the thickest parka I’d ever seen, he also had on a beanie and a scarf, as well as knit gloves that held tightly to his hot chocolate.
“I’m always here, you’re just too busy to see me.”
“Not this again,” he groans. I was always giving him grief every time he touched down to NYC but didn’t pop by for a visit. I knew he had a hectic schedule, and even though I wasn’t that bothered I still liked to tease him.
“It’s true, you come to the city so often but I see you once a year. And maybe again when I’m in London if I get lucky.”
“I’m busy Y/N, I talk to you all the time!”
“I know,” I elbow him. “I just like to rile you up.”
“Well now that you’ve got that out of your system,” he tugs my hat over my eyes. “Where are we going next?”
I push it back up, “I thought we could just wander the shops, then get on the skating rink if you’re not frozen to death.”
“Alright I’ve got to pick some gifts up anyway let’s see what’s here.”
We make a good team as we visit stands selling ornaments and kitschy decor, handmade gifts, and hot cider. We sift through exactly what we might want, or what the other’s looking for. And with the light dusting of snow coming down, and the bright lights strung around the Park, it was like walking in a Christmas movie.
“Look at this,” I point ahead. We’d nearly visited all the stands and holiday shops but a festive psychic advertises their services in a small glass booth. “Should we?”
“It’s a waste of money,” Harry scoffs. “She’s just going to read your body language.”
“She might be the real deal-”
“You can’t be serious-”
“C’mon!” I tug his gloves hand and it takes a few but he stumbles towards me. It’s slightly warmer inside and I notice the space heater running in the corner. “At least it’s warm” I whisper to Harry.
“You really want to do this?” He asks one last time.
“It’s just $10-”
“$20 for the two,” the woman almost shifts out of the wall and I hide my jump with a laugh. There’s a curtain behind her, I realize, she must have stepped out.
“It’s just me,” I clarify.
She eyes Harry and Harry eyes her back. “You look familiar.”
“Just have that face,” he shrugs, burrowing into his scarf. “I’m just here to watch.”
She stares at him a moment longer before settling at the small table. I flash Harry a smile before sitting down myself, setting my bags onto the floor.
“Palm reading, cards, what will it be dear?” The psychic asks. I remember the sign out front said cards would be more than having my palm read so I opt for the cheaper option.
“Hm,” she says thoughtfully as she traces the lines on my palm. I wriggle my eyebrows at Harry and he rolls his eyes, but he stays watching her like a hawk. It was cute how overprotective he got sometimes. The psychic glances up to catch him watching her, she then glances at me and tilts her head.
“I see longevity, in life and love, a few bumps but you’re a strong persistent woman.”
Harry grumbles behind me and I resist the urge to say something to him.
“I see success after hard, hard work. But a big success that will change the course of your career.”
“Wow, how soon?” I ask.
“Mmm, after a big milestone. Turning 30?” she continues to examine my hand. “I see a second life later in life, with kids...just one no maybe two children.”
“How about her love life?” Harry asks. “Her last love s’not too nice.”
“Seriously Harry?” I turn to glare this time. He’s grinning with flushed cheeks, knowing it was a sore spot he liked to say i told you so to. It was true, he had told me so about my 3 year relationship but I’d ignored him.
“Your love life,’ the woman speaks up. “Shows me two great loves. One cuts short, the other is as long as your life line.”
“Ooh,” I lean in, interested. “I think I know about the one that was cut short. Tell me about the second!”
“This second...” she traces my palm and I feel a tingle. “This second love is very close, a bit rocky but it will last.”
“A bit rocky?”
“Hm,” she chews her bottom lip. “Time, distance...it will make it rocky. But it lasts.”
“So how close is close?” I ask eagerly.
“Close,” she says with a smile that tells me I wasn’t getting anything else out of her.
“That’s a bit vague isn’t it?” Harry pipes up from the back.
“The future isn’t always crystal clear,” she says without looking up at him.
“Lay off,” I scold him.
“It’s okay, I get nonbelievers all the time.” She laughs. “That will be $10 dear.” When I hand her the bill she stops me as she takes it. “A little free advice?”
“Sure.” I pick up the bags I placed on the floor earlier.
"Don’t be so focused on the life you want that you don’t see the life you have around you.”
“I’ve actually told her that before,” Harry decides we want more of his unsolicited opinions. “Maybe there is something true to all of this.”
“Thanks,” I pocket her words for later. Harry was right, he’d said something along those lines to me before, especially when it came to giving up control and going with the flow on trips and events with him. I always declined his offers, we lived a modest life growing up and accepting these gifts from him always felt so excessive. I wanted to make my own way in the world, but Harry always had something to say. “And sorry for his attitude, he’s not always this rude.”
“Yeah,” Harry shifts forward. “I didn’t mean anything by it, I’m a lot nicer usually.”
“I know,” she smiles.
“She’s psychic,” I remind him.
“I’m also online,” she laughs. “Can I get a picture?”
Harry eyes me, before going in for a selfie with her. I know he usually didn’t mind getting asked in smaller settings but he’d admitted it was something he was still getting used to. It had been a couple years since he became so famous, in such a short amount of time I went from being able to go down to a local pub with my best friend to schedules and security details and a whole other list of complications. Sometimes I hated it, mostly I was happy for him.
“Another day, another fan.” I tell Harry after we walk away from the psychic and he flips me off. “Should we get something to eat and get out of the cold?”
“God yes,” Harry shivers. “Can we just go to yours?”
“Let’s go,” I loop my arm through Harry’s.
Harry wants instant warmth so he hails a cab and we pick up takeout once we reach my neighbourhood. Harry had been here a few times, my roommate had gotten used to the fact that I was best friends with him, and sometimes he preferred to stay here when he wanted to be anonymous. Paparazzi sometimes crowded outside his hotel when word leaked he was there.
We eat ourselves into a food coma and Harry decides to stay the night, not wanting to face the cold again. Since our living room couch sprained his neck the only time he’d slept there, he usually crashed in my bed. His head barely hits the pillow before he’s snoring, I guess the jet lag finally caught up.
***
I jerk out of sleep, a crashing noise followed by swearing catches my attention.
“I think your roommate dropped something,” I hear from beside me. I turn my face to get a facefull of Harry’s thigh tattoos.
“Y’think?” I croak and shift backwards to see his face. He’s sitting up in bed and scrolling through his phone.
“Guess which psychic is officially internet-famous?” Harry asks dryly.
“Hm?” I’m still calming my heart from waking up so suddenly so it takes a moment to register Harry’s words. “What?”
He shoves his phone in my face, the selfie he took with the psychic yesterday is posted on social media with over half a million likes. He swipes away and a lot of his tag is filled with news outlets and fan accounts spamming the picture. He pulls it back to read a heading: “Harry Styles visits Psychic for ideas on his next album. There’s also Harry Styles rumored to be connected to the Occult...I don’t know what that means. Psychic tells all on Harry Styles reading.”
“How did that picture circulate?” I rub my eyes and sit up beside him. “And where is all of this coming from?”
“She has a Twitter, and she posted the picture.” He shows me, it’s there with the caption A handsome face showed up to my booth at the Bryant Park Market tonight. Get your future told, 5pm to 9pm 7 days a week.
I can’t help but laugh, she was a business woman and she really took the opportunity to sell her service.
“It’s not funny Y/N,” Harry looks furious so I cover my mouth and squint at his screen as he scrolls. A ton of people are responding asking about his future or what he came there for. Amongst them, she responds to only one person: His love life was involved.
My jaw drops, “That’s such a lie! She read me my love life, and life lines!”
“I told you she was a fraud,” Harry jerks the phone back to him.
“She lied for sales, but doesn’t mean she didn’t tell the truth yesterday.”
“If she lied about this she lied about it all and you wasted $10. She only talked about your love life, not mine...”
I remember her words, my second love was very close...could she have meant...
I glance at Harry and he seemed to have followed the same train of thought because we lock eyes, his probably just as wide as mine.
“D’you think?” he says just as I say “Was she...?”
We immediately burst out laughing as the tension comes to a head and bubbles over in a safe trickle.
“Is that what she was trying to say?” I say when I’ve finally caught my breath, my stomach hurt from laughing this hard.
“I guess when she said close she meant close,” Harry’s flat on his back from laughing. “Quite literal.”
“And you were calling her out on being so vague.”
“I’ve got to give it to her,” he shuts his phone off and throws it onto the covers between us, releasing the annoyance. “She’s a good businesswoman.”
“I was thinking the same thing but I thought you might kill me if I said that,” I admit.
We lay on the rumpled covers in silence, I think about everything else she said. The potential of it all is tarnished by the idea of Harry being my second love, for life. It was so ridiculous, unless by love she meant the way I love him now. As my best friend. Our lives were so different, there was no way it could ever work. Not to mention...he was my best friend since forever.
“Have you ever thought about it?” Harry asks out of the blue.
“Thought about what?” I prop myself on my elbow.
“Us, like...the way she predicted?”
“Together together?” I can’t help but laugh. “No never, you’re my best friend!” I recognize the flash of hurt so I backtrack a little. “No offense Harry, I love you but could you imagine?”
“I have,” he says it so quietly as I lay back down. “What?” I ask. He shrugs, “I’m surprised you haven’t. We’ve been friends since...we were 7. You’re saying you never thought about it?”
“No,” I shake my head. “Actually I haven’t. When...what did you think about?”
“I dunno,” he fiddles with his rings. “Like for school dances, when I didn’t have a date I thought about asking you as more than a friend...thought about where that could lead. Or every time you had your heart broke. I wanted to take the pain away and just show you what you deserved.”
“Harry I...” it was sweet, what he was saying. But he never gave a single clue about it the entire time we grew up. He was always chasing girls who looked nothing like me, so I always thought that’s what his type was. Never did I think about anything more with him.
“Not-not recently though,” he forces a laugh. “Just when we were kids.”
“That’s sweet Harry. I had no idea.”
He shrugs, and sits up.
“No seriously I...that’s so sweet. But just so you know, you have shown me what a good man can be. Just by being the best friend ever.”
“Aw,” he swipes my cheek as he gets up. “That’s cute. I don’t know if I’ve done such a good job when you’ve only dated knobs.”
I could recognize his defense mechanism--turning it into a big joke. But he leaves the room before I can call him out and I’m left sitting in the mess of what he’d just told me. It’s not that it was awkward or a bad thing, but suddenly it felt tense and the tension triggered an anxious feeling in my chest.
I decide to get out of my room and find my roommate cleaning up the remains of her broken mug. I offer to clean the spill as she dresses to go out for her run. Helping her distracts me, and when I hear Harry leave the bathroom I lock myself in, and try some breathing exercises to clear the anxiety creeping up. When I realize I was trying to avoid Harry, I scold myself. This was ridiculous and funny! Harry wanted to ask me out when we were kids, it was cute, and that was it. The psychic was a fake anyway, nothing she said meant anything.
I head back to my room where Harry’s made the bed. I change into trousers and my favourite fisherman sweater, and find him having coffee at our small kitchen table with his phone on speaker as he talks to someone. His legs barely fit underneath, so they’re sprawled to the side. He’s still shirtless, and my attention snags on his torso.
I shake myself out of my thoughts as I bump into the kitchen island, and glance up to see that although he was talking to the person on the phone, his eyes had been on me...while my eyes were on his abs. Oh god, I cringe. I try to act casual, mouthing if he wanted breakfast but he shakes his head and points to the call he’s having.
I make myself a toast and try to ignore what just happened but it only adds to the tension from this morning. When he gets off his call he brings his cup up to the sink.
“I think I need another cup.”
“Be my guest,” I move aside. “You sure you don’t want breakfast?”
“Are you going to feed me avocado flax seed quinoa toast?” he teases.
“There’s no quinoa.” I correct, crossing my arms. “But...yes.”
“I’ll take this banana,” he holds the lone banana on the counter. “I’ve got to be in East Harlem by noon, that’s what the call was about.”
“Aw,” I hated saying goodbye. “Are you busy the rest of your stay?”
“I can make it back here,” he says.
“Do whatever you need to do,” I say. “I’m used to being discarded after you hang out with me in the city.”
“I don’t do that!” he reaches behind me to slot his cup in and set the machine to grind his beans. I can smell my shampoo on him, he must’ve showered. “If you want me back, you can just say that.”
The morning sunlight streaming through the kitchen window leaves no room for shadows; the shift in the mood is clear as the daylight streaming in. Or maybe I was reading too much into his words.
“I always want you back,” I look up to his height now that he’s standing so close, and the kitchen tightens further.
We’re stuck in a tableau; with my back against the fridge looking up at him as he gazes down with a curious expression. My mind grows blank the longer I stare. No one says a word, the sound of beans grinding the only noise in the kitchen.
My best friend in the whole world looks torn standing in front of me like this, and as my senses slowly rush back I realize that even if my expression doesn’t show it...I was torn. Because out of nowhere, all I can think about are all the questions I ever shoved away in the dark: what would it feel like if I kissed him right now? And what would have happened to us if he had asked me out to our school dance? Would we still be best friends? Would we have cut each other out? How many universes were we still good together like this? How many universes were we good together as more than this?
An urge to touch his face, make sure this was real, takes over me. But as soon as my fingers brush his cheek he snaps out of his trance and stumbles back like I’d burned him.
He forces a laugh. “I really do need that coffee.”
“Right,” I turn to the machine to put the grinds into their slot but I yank too hard and the freshly ground coffee flies out towards me. “Shit!”
“What happ-” Harry takes one look at what’s happened and turns away, his shoulders shaking.
“I can see you right in front of me laughing!” I shout. “Help me!”
“It’s all over you Y/N,” he turns around, tears in his eyes. “Give me this, I’ll put it far away from you.” He takes the remaining grinds and sets it down. I brush away what’s closest to my eyes so I can see and try to shake it off my sweater but they stick to the fibers of the knit.
“Great,” I grumble. “This is dry clean only.”
“It’s in your hair,” he runs his fingers through the strands that hang over my shoulder. I shake my head to dislodge the grinds; his fingers brush my neck away and tucks my hair behind my ear. “Uhm, that should be most of it.”
“It’s not out of this sweater,” I pout. “Screw dry clean, why did I think I could buy dry cleaning clothes?”
“I can drop it off on the way out today?” he offers.
“That means you’re coming back to drop it off to me?!” I ask hopefully.
His expression softens, “Y/N I’m coming back to your flat. I promise.”
“He promises!” I shout. Even though things were a bit awkward this morning, I got to spend more time with my hard-to-catch best friend and for that I was over the moon.
“We could also try to vacuum the sweater?” Harry suggests.
“So you don’t have to come back with dry clean?” I tease. “I’m not letting you get out of your promise, let me give it to you before you change your mind.” I tug my top off and ball it up, shoving it in his hands. It falls to the floor when he doesn’t hold it.
“Hello?” I look up and he’s a deer in the headlights. “Harry...”
“I can’t do this right now,” he takes a step back. I get the sweater from the ground and hold it out to him again.
“Do you want to wipe the kitchen floor with the sweater too? Take it!” I sigh. “Harry are you really acting so chaste about seeing a girl in her bra?”
“It’s-” he decides to stop mid-word. “You’re not just any girl Y/N, I’ve already made it clear.”
Now it’s my turn to stare--he hadn’t made it clear. “You said you only felt something when you were younger...”
“And you believed me?”
I realize I didn’t, but I wanted to believe him so I hadn’t questioned it. “Well it’s not the first time you’ve seen me in a bra. Can you take the damn sweater?”
“Yeah I can I’m just...” he seems to calm down a bit, enough to step towards me and take it. “I didn’t have to face this conflicted feeling in me if I didn’t see you often. I can just be the best friend. But now, with the whole psychic thing and you in--like this in your kitchen and I--I’m remembering how much I just want to...”
“Kiss me,” I say.
“Yeah...” he looks away.
“No, I’m telling you to kiss me.” I clarify. His expression would’ve made me laugh if my heart wasn’t beating so fast. I couldn’t believe I was being this impulsive.
“Really? You’re not just saying that cuz of this morning?”
“Fine,” I step out of his reach and cross my arms to hide my shaking hands. “If you don’t want to kiss me-”
He pulls me back too quickly and I bump into his chest. “I never said that.” He says in a tone I’d never heard from him before, it’s serious and sexy and it sends tingles through my body. I press myself up against him and he finally, finally, kisses me. Every bit of tension and anxiety the day had built up releases in the single moment his lips cover mine.
How had I waited this long?
The kiss is gentle, delicate like he’s still not entirely sure I want the same thing he does. I show him I do by using my tongue to open his mouth slowly and the hesitation disappears immediately. We’re a fighter jet taking off from there; I don’t know where I end and where he begins as he walks me to the kitchen island and lifts me onto it, our limbs tangling together, His hands roam down the side of my body, but he stays in the safe zones until I unclasp my bra.
“Oh hell no,” my roommate’s voice interrupts us from behind. I hold my bra close and turn. She stands at the entryway, shaking her head. “Not here. Not on our kitchen island. You two have a room literally 10 feet away...”
“Oops,” I say quietly which seems to set Harry off. My roommate is still shaking her head but I see the smile on her face. I’d caught her hooking up on multiple occasions so it wasn’t anything new. But I didn’t do this often. I jump down, apologizing to her. “Harry’s going to clean the coffee off the floor...I-I’ll find a shirt.”
“Mhm,” she closes her bedroom door and I look over at Harry who’s crouching on the floor in tears.
“This is all your fault!” I whisper but he tugs me down to where he is and holds my face as he kisses me.
“I know you two aren’t behind the island,” my roommate’s voice comes out again. I stay there as her footsteps move to the bathroom and the door closes behind her.
“I hate you,” I skirt out of his reach, and rush to my room yelling another sorry as I head back and find a top. Harry appears in my room as I put it on.
“I guess that was a good time for her to walk in on before it got too far?” he still has a stupid grin on his face.
“I don’t even want to think about it,” my cheeks were burning and even more so that Harry was elated.
“I’ve actually got to head out now.”
I pout but he kisses my pout instead. He promises he’ll be back in the evening and I let him go with one more kiss, my mind catching up with everything that just happened.
Oh my god.
***
It’s nearly 8 by the time I’m done running all my errands--taking holidays off for work was usually a good decision for me. I had a big family and picking up all the holiday bits before I flew back home was always a big job. I take an Uber home, I couldn’t handle a 40 minutes trip back home carrying everything home on the subway.
I call out to my roommate when I get in but she doesn’t respond. I check her door and it’s open and dark, the bathroom is also empty. She must have evening plans.
I open my door to a surprise. Harry is sprawled on my bed. He jerks awake when I settle my bags down.
“Y/N?” he squints as I turn the light on.
“How did you get in here?” I shrug my coat off.
“Y’roommate let me in before she left,” he rubs his eyes. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep...I had a whole thing planned.”
I’d gone over the whole morning during my errands, surprised and excited and nervous about this new step for us. But I continued to think about what the psychic said, our love lines extended alongside my life line. Even though there wasn’t much comfort or trust in a psychic who used a photo opp as a marketing opp, what she said had come true. And I put my faith in that, calming my nerves about this new step potentially ruining our friendship forever.
“Was that okay?” Harry sits up. “She didn’t think you’d mind.”
“Oh no that’s fine,” I unwrap my scarf and stand at the foot of my bed. “I really wasn’t sure if you were coming back.”
“Of course I would,” he reaches for my hand. “I wouldn’t leave you after this morning, I’m not that flighty.”
“Well we never really got to talk about it,” I say as I sit down. I’d texted him during the day but it never showed he read it, I wasn’t sure how to read into that; finding him passed out on my room meant he was probably on the go all day.
“Are you okay with this?” he says with such concern, I nearly tear up. This was making me way too emotional.
“I am,” I smile at my best friend in the whole world. “I just don’t want to go too fast.”
“We won’t,” he promises as he holds his arms out. I lean in towards his solid chest and he wraps his arms around me. I feel his breath on my cheek, then his lips in my hair. “I’m yours for eternity Y/N, we can take it as slow or fast as you want.”
It was a good thing to say, and I believe him entirely.
We eventually untangle ourselves to get food in us, and even though things are different, they’re also not. We still pick out the same parts of our food to give the other person, we still talk the same shit and laugh at the same jokes. But his hands grasps mine and his thumb brushes over my knuckles absentmindedly. His eyes stay steady on me as I talk like I’m someone new he’s exploring. We kiss after dinner, but we also load the dishwasher and laugh about the one time I’d managed to burn soup from a can. Eventually we end in my bedroom, where we lay together, our conversation growing quieter by the minute, the space between us growing smaller.
And even though we’d slept like this a hundred times before, it’s different now. I can feel it in every atom of my being, I was his and he was mine. And I don’t know how long it’s been like this for it to feel so easy, but accepting it was a no brainer, like accepting the sky was blue or the sun was hot. I remember the advice the psychic gave, I was following it: living the life I had around me even though it wasn’t the life I thought I would have.
There were a million things Harry and I had to figure out to make this work--I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. But I did know that it was right, it was true, and it was going to be forever.
The future may not be crystal clear, but my future with this man was.
#harry styles#harry styles fic#harry styles x reader#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fluff#harry styles imagine#fic#writingsfromhome#friends to lovers#standalone#holiday fic#ignore any grammar or errors pls ty
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The Past III
Where the reader and Harry no longer speak.
This is unedited!
Word Count: 3.6k
Warning: angst, drinking, some language, mentions of blood
A/N: Here’s part three! Sorry it took so long to update! My personal life has been quite hectic and draining and I couldn’t find the energy to write again up until a few days ago. I hope you guys enjoy it! Information regarding tag lists at the end.
Y/N is discharged in the morning just like she had told Harry the previous day. Not having a ride home, she decides to dial Gemma who picks up after only a few rings.
“Hey Gem, think you could pick me up and bring me some clothes please? Mark is at work right now.” Y/N asks and explains as she flips through the random TV channels on the small flat-screen television in her hospital room.
“Hey Y/N, I actually can’t right now…” She trails off, almost as if trying to come up with an excuse not to pick her up, but she doesn’t. “I’m sure Harry can pick you up.” She adds in to her trailing sentence. Y/N stays quiet on the other end of the line. She’s going to see Harry tonight anyways, but would she be able to spend a whole day with him without it being painfully awkward?
“It’s okay...I’ll ask Anne.” Y/N replies as she huffs slightly, going through all of the television channels for the second time, but nonetheless she starts the process all over again.
“Mum is busy with grocery shopping and whatnot.” Gemma says with an urgency to her voice, and Y/N finally concludes that Gemma, or Anne and Gemma want her to spend more time with Harry. Y/N pinches the bridge of her nose slightly before sighing.
“I’ll ring Harry.” She finally gives up, knowing it was no use trying to tell Gemma that she could see past her lies. Y/N ponders on taking the bus, but she knows she’ll get weird and concerned looks, having only the clothes from the previous night and dried blood on her hair.
“Alright, I’ll see you soon!” Gemma exclaims into the phone, the smile evident in her voice as she hangs up, leaving Y/N to hear the ringing of the dead line. She pulls her phone away from her ear and takes a deep breath as she scrolls through her contacts, finally stumbling upon Harry’s name. She hadn’t deleted the number, and she knew it was the same, receiving a text from Gemma with his number attached. Y/N clicks on his contact, an old picture of the two showing up in a small circle next to the call button. The picture is one that Anne had taken at Christmas before they stopped speaking. Y/N was curled up into Harry’s side, the Santa hat she had been wearing slowly beginning to fall off her head as Harry had an arm wrapped around her sleeping form. He was looking down at her, a soft smile on his face as his own Santa hat lit up with small Christmas lights. Y/N smiles at the picture, reminiscing back at how simple things once were.
After a few minutes of hearing the television but listening to her own thoughts, she decides to tap the green button on her screen that has been taunting her for several minutes. Y/N hears the line ring, her heart beating faster with each lengthy tone, and after only the third ring she hears a click on the other end of the phone.
“Hey Y/N.” Harry greets through the phone, his comforting voice making Y/N’s once fast beating heart slow down enough for her to feel calm once again. He knew it was her, he must have saved her number after all these years, but the thought makes her heart sting; why hadn’t he tried to reach her?
“I...Um...I was wondering if you could pick me up from the hospital?” Y/N questions through the small device in her hand as she fiddles with the rough material of the thin blanket that the hospital provided her with.
“Yeah sure...I’ll be there in 30.” Harry says, and Y/N can hear the jingling of his keys and the opening and closing of the door.
“Thank you...and be careful please...the roads are still pretty dangerous to drive on.” She mumbles, shivering slightly at the memory from the previous day.
“O’course...I’m always careful. See you soon.” Y/N hears the muffled sound of the car engine over the phone before hearing a soft click, only hearing the television quietly playing in the background. Over the next 20 minutes Y/N is discharged by the doctor and disconnected from the various monitors. She gathers her belongings, grimacing as she puts on her clothes from the previous day, some of it covered in dry blood still. She grabs her phone off the small hospital table and exits the fluorescent room, thanking the staff on her way out before waiting for Harry in front of the hospital. The floor is wet from the storm the previous day and the current light drizzle of water. She wraps her coat around her tightly, shivering slightly as a gust of wind passes by her.
“I should’ve waited inside.” Y/N thinks to herself as the cold wind bites at her skin, but she’s being courteous for Harry’s sake, or maybe she’s doing it for herself. What she knows is that a mob of fans wouldn’t be pleasant for either of them. So she waits for him outside, hoping that they could drive off as soon as he arrives at the hospital so they could leave.
Y/N is staring up at the gray clouds before she hears a soft calling of her name. She looks up, noticing the window of Harry’s black Range Rover is rolled down. He’s wearing a black hoodie with colorful letters that she can’t make out due to his distance, and some big sunglasses that make her let out a little laugh at their size. She gives him an awkward smile before walking towards the big car and getting in the passenger's seat, immediately engulfed by the warmth of the car and Harry’s scent. Y/N settles into the leather seat as she closes the door and secures the seat belt around her body as Harry begins to drive away from the hospital parking lot.
“Would you like me to drive you home?” Harry questions, his eyes focused on the slick road in front of him.
“No no…” Y/N quickly starts off. “We could go back to your place...we were meeting for dinner anyways.” She finishes her statement as Harry just hums in response. It’s silent between the two despite the words that need to be said; the words that would probably fix everything between them. The rain gently hits the windows as the heater hums in sync with the sound of the engine. The road is smooth beneath the tires as Harry drives through a series of small winding streets.
“Can I turn the radio on?” Harry is the first to speak, and now it’s Y/N’s turn to hum in response. His hand travels over to the radio, turning it on before browsing through different radio stations, but he can’t settle on anything and shuts the radio off once again, his hand settling back on the steering wheel. The car ride is filled with an almost unbearable silence, each raindrop sounding heavier than the last against the car, but finally, just as Y/N is thinking that jumping out of the car isn’t a horrible idea, they reach a small and gated house. Harry pulls up next to a small metal box, rolling down his window and quickly punching in a few numbers before rolling it up once again. The raindrops rolling off the leather interior, the sleeve of his hoodie now a darker shade of black.
The metal gates open up and Harry applies light pressure on the gas pedal of his car, causing it to move forward onto the long cement driveway, all the way to the end which connects to a house, his house. Harry presses a small clicker on the roof of his car, opening up the large garage connected to the house as he pulls into it and closes the garage door once again before turning the car off.
“Let’s get you inside so you could get showered and changed before dinner.” Harry says softly as he gets out of the car, not looking at Y/N once. He knows that it’s still early, early enough to barely eat lunch, but he figures he could try to avoid the dreaded, but much needed conversation for a few more hours. Plus, he doubts that she wants to be in the same clothes from the day of the accident, much less have her hair matted and tangled with dried blood.
“Oh yeah...thanks Harry.” Y/N says as she climbs out of the car, and takes a look at the garage. It’s like any other person’s garage, but emptier due to his constant moving around and barely being home. She gently closes the black car door and walks around to where Harry is standing, inserting a key to a door in the garage. He twists the key and handle, opening the door before pulling the key out. He walks in, holding the door open for Y/N as he motions for her to walk in. She complies and enters the house that’s lit up by the outdoor light. The place is a lot simpler than she had expected, since his career took off she expected him to change just like every other superstar, being taken by the fame and money, but he was not. He remained Harry Edward Styles, her friend of many years and who she always thought would be her first love.
His house is decorated in modern and minimalist furniture, but somehow still feels like a home. Y/N can’t tell if it’s Harry’s scent or small random things laying around that make it feel like home. Picture frames of his family and friends, a random jacket here, some shoes over there, and a few random cups scattered throughout the living room and kitchen. While she looks around, she believes that Harry has moved on from their friendship, and maybe even whatever nonexistent relationship there was between them. There wasn’t a picture of her in sight, or any clue of her ever being part of his life, but what was she hoping for? For him to dwell on her for five years? That would be selfish of her, but maybe for now she wanted to be selfish.
Harry watches Y/N intently as she looks around, noticing slight changes in her expressions, from a half smile to a small frown. Was she regretting her choice of coming with him? Would she turn around right now and ask for him to drive her home? He suddenly thinks that this is a horrible idea, and that maybe things should’ve just been left as is, but he still tries and hopes that she doesn’t want to run away like he has been wanting to do.
“Bathroom is over here.” His voice sounds a bit shaky, almost as if he is nervous. He begins walking through the house, reaching a short hallway with only two doors and some cabinets at the end. He opens the door to their left, revealing a bathroom, and then continues to take a few steps forward, opening the door to their right, revealing his room.
“There’s a bathroom in m’ room if you would like to use that one. You could change in my bedroom afterward if you would like, I’ll be in the kitchen making dinner so you don’t have to worry about me barging in...I mean not that I would barge in...just in case you were worried ‘bout that...not that you sh-” But before Harry can ramble on any further, Y/N cuts him off, a small laugh escaping her lips at his nervous behavior.
“I’ll use your bathroom, you go ahead and make dinner.” She says with a smile adorning her face, oh how much Harry missed that smile. He simply nods and exits the room, opening and closing the cabinets in the hallway before returning with a towel and handing it to Y/N.
“Thanks Harry.” She says softly as she begins walking to the bathroom door in the corner of his room.
“O’course. I’ll leave some clothes on my bed and then I’ll leave and close the door.” Harry explains to her as he walks over to his dresser and begins to open drawers. Y/N hums in appreciation as she walks through the bathroom door and shuts it behind her. She opens the sliding glass door, letting out a small sigh of relief when she sees the water knobs are the same as the ones in her own flat, thankful she wouldn’t have to ask Harry for help. Y/N turns the water on to her desired temperature and begins to strip off her clothing before getting into the shower, sliding the glass doors shut. As she showers, she can hear the muffled opening and closing of drawers outside in the room before she hears the shutting of what she assumes is the bedroom door.
Harry exits his bedroom, closing the door behind him as he makes his way to the kitchen. As he pulls out the necessary ingredients for spaghetti and garlic bread, his mind (once again), begins to occupy itself with unnecessary thoughts, because never in a million years did he think they would be having dinner together after five years of silence. Harry was aware of how she tried to contact him, and he saw all the missed calls and texts from her, but he was too hurt to ever pick up the phone or to even see her. Now he feels guilty, realizing that he probably caused her pain that she still hasn’t healed from. Had she moved on quickly? Did she see other people before meeting Mark? Or was Mark the person that finally allowed her to begin to move on? Harry shakes his head slightly, now beginning to serve the plates of food and pulling out a bottle of wine. Those thoughts shouldn’t make him feel jealousy, after all, he had tried to move on fast, sleeping and dating people over the past five years, and he was almost one-hundred percent sure that she saw every headline regarding his relationships, whether they were rumors or whether they were confirmed. And while Harry can’t be sure, he can only assume that it hurt to see the headlines, because when he heard of Mark’s existence in Y/N’s life, the pain he felt in his chest was too much to ignore.
Harry is closing the bottle of wine and sitting down when he hears light footsteps in front of him, and as he looks up he sees Y/N, her cheeks are slightly flushed and there is a sheepish smile on her face as she sits down across from him.
“It smells good…” She says softly as she pics up her fork and begins to eat. She’s wearing his hoodie, boxers, sweats, and even his socks, which makes her feel quite flustered, it feels too domestic, like if they are dating, and the thought makes her heart pick up slightly in speed.
What they both thought would be an awkward dinner was actually pleasant, their conversation flowed naturally, almost as if nothing between them had occurred, and as if they haven't spoken in five years. Once their plates are clean of food and their glasses are empty of wine, they clean up the kitchen and head to the living room, sitting down on opposite ends of Harry’s couch, their glasses of wine full again. Their conversation flows smoothly once again, eventually falling into a silence that was almost unbearable.
“Have you listened to any of my music?” Harry questions, as he sets down his wine glass on the coffee table. The question probably sounds narcissistic, but he needs to know, because there are songs that were written for her, messages that he hopes she received. Y/N sets down her glass of wine and tilts her head back before looking over at Harry.
“I only listened to your first album...I couldn’t really bring myself to listen to your second album.” She explains rather timidly, afraid that he would take offense to the statement, but he nods his head in understanding and gets up from the couch.
“We’ll start from the beginning then, so you could get the full experience.” He says jokingly as he walks over to his vinyls and record player. Harry pulls out his first album and sets it up before sitting back on the couch, this time a little closer to her. They fall into casual conversation again, but Y/N doesn’t really listen to the music, too invested in listening to Harry, that is until he puts a finger to his lips, his infamous rose ring glinting in the sunlight.
“One of my favorite songs that I’ve ever written.” Harry says softly as he looks at Y/N. She chuckles softly as “Woman” begins to play in the background. Y/N smiles at the opening line, Harry has always been one for romance, and she couldn’t help but wonder who he had asked to watch romantic comedies with on Netflix, and then the song begins.
I’m selfish, I know
But I don’t ever want to see you with him
Y/N then wonders who this man was, this man that made him selfish and want to keep someone to himself, and who is the person that he loves so much that he wrote a song about not wanting to see them with anyone else? But then these questions are answered when Harry begins to speak.
“Y’know...when mum told me ‘bout you and Mark, I wished desperately that it was me you were with instead of him. And I wanted to go find you, and say that I fucked up, that I’m an arrogant son of a bitch who can’t admit when he’s sorry, but I didn’t. I couldn’t bear the thought of him opening the door, and while I’m selfish for wishing that I was in his place, I also can’t ruin your happiness again…” Harry trails off and sighs, he turns away from Y/N and tilts his head back until it’s resting on the couch and he’s staring up at the ceiling.
Y/N looks at him blankly as he stares up at the ceiling. She had expected a conversation of apologies, then maybe a few words of “glad we’ve moved on,” and then things to be how they once were, but she wasn’t expecting a love confession. And as much as she wants to say that she understands, and that she forgives him, she can’t do that.
“Harry...you can’t do this to me. You can’t waltz back into my life and expect me to drop everything for you. You’re the one that left, I tried to make things right between us. I have a life of my own now, I’ve moved on from our past…” Y/N’s voice is assertive, refusing to let Harry come back into her life unannounced after everything that had occurred between them. But as assertive as she sounds, and as serious as she is about her words, she knows that her last statement isn’t true, and he knows that it isn’t true as well.
“You’re right, I left, and I know that you called...that you tried to reach me, and I blocked you out...I shouldn’t have. But I was afraid that I had ruined our friendship that night I tried to kiss you...now I reckon that I did more damage when I left unannounced.” Harry finally faces her, and while his words are directed at the girl in front of him, he knows these words are also his thoughts. When she doesn’t respond, he is fearful once again, maybe he should have left things alone. Y/N lets out a shaky breath and closes her eyes, not wanting to look at him in fear of breaking down.
“Look Harry, it’s in the past, and I want to forgive you, but I can’t...at least not right now. I spent so long getting over you, trying to forget our friendship and that spark that we once had…” She trails off and opens her eyes once again, staring directly at Harry. “But I need time, and I need space…” Her last words are quiet as she gets up from her spot on Harry’s couch and grabs her few belongings. “I would like to go home please.” Is all Y/N can muster past her lips as she walks over to the door, the very little energy she once had now leaves her body. Harry doesn’t protest, knowing that he has caused damage to the woman he loved, once again.
The drive back to her flat is silent, the hum of his car and the cars around him driving through the rain being the only sounds they can hear. And while the drive to her flat is short, it feels long and tense, making Y/N eager to get to the comfort of her own home and away from the current situation. Finally, the car is parked in front of her flat, and Y/N gives Harry a weak smile once she is out of his car.
“See ya around, thanks for lunch...maybe we can catch dinner another time.” She says as she closes his car door, and Harry’s heart flutters; he hadn’t fucked things up even more than before.
“I would like that.” Harry is quick with his response as he gives her a toothy grin before giving her a slight wave and driving off. Maybe things will be okay in time.
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A/N: There are two tag lists for Harry content! One for ALL future Harry Styles fics, and one for JUST this fic. Comment “All Harry fics” or “Just this Harry fic” if you would like to be added.
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All HS fanfic
@rachkon @tpwkhoney @girlboss99 @hilarydenise813 @eternalharry @tpwkxkiwis @wholesomestyles @indieslytherin @harryspirate @harrehiluvyeh
Just this fanfic
@darcysbxtch @makncheese1928 @urdadbtch
Usernames I can’t tag
@mybm1998 @marvelstudies2020 @90smessy @only1doodle
#harry edward styles#Harry Styles#solo harry#harry styles x reader#harry x reader#x reader#harry styles x you#harry x you#harry styles x y/n#harry x y/n#harry styles preference#harry styles imagine#harry imagine#harry styles one shot#harry one shot#oneshot#OneShots#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fic#harry fanfic#x reader fanfiction#fanfiction#fanfic#harry styles story#miniseries#anne twist#gemma styles
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Pokemon SwSh GPL AU: Get to know ______ P3
It’s time for THE BOYS. My biggest conclusion from putting this together is that while Raihan enjoys pushing everyone else’s buttons, Leon is the only person that can fluster the hell out of him. Please enjoy.
Get to Know: Leon x Raihan (TrueRivalShipping)
1: Who spends almost all their money on the other? Leon. He feels like the type of person whose love language is gift giving (ex. giving Hop Wooloo and Grookey, giving Gloria Scorbunny, Yamper, and Charmander, ect.). That being said, he’s terrible at getting gifts. He can tell exactly what type of Pokemon a person would want and catch it, but presents? He once got Raihan a charmander watch made for kids without even considering it wouldn’t fit him.
2: Who sleeps in the other’s lap? Leon. They’re both tall, but Lee’s the smaller of the two.
3: Who walks around the house half-naked and who yells at them to put on some clothes? Raihan would definitely strut around just to get a reaction out of Leon. Half the time his intentions are to get him into bed, but the other half? Embarrass Leon when he’s on Rotom calls with his mum (don’t worry, he wears pants for those instances).
4: Which one tells the other not to stay up all night and which one stays up all night anyway? They’re both night owls. They stay up either playing video games or watching Netflix (or whatever the pokemon equivalent to that is). They had to invest in a bigger couch due to how often they have passed out on it. (When I say bigger couch, I definitely mean a futon. They just straight up by the closest thing they can to another bed).
5: Which one tries to make food for the other but burns it all by accident and which one tells them that it’s okay and makes them both cookies? Hop inherited their mum’s cooking skills. Since Leon spent most of his young adult life as a champion who never really had time to stay at home and cook a real meal, it is up to Raihan to provide. Lee was permanently designated to cleanup duty after nearly burning the apartment down.
6: Which one reads OTP prompts and says “Oh that’s us!” and which one goes “Eh, not really”? Leon would say,” Oh, that’s us!” and Raihan would say,” Eh, not really?” just to spite him. There is a lot of teasing and playful banter in their relationship.
7: Which one constantly wears the other’s clothes? Raihan, but only because he would literally murder Leon if he borrowed one of his designer sweatshirts. There’s also the added benefit that Lee’s clothes are a lot comfier.
8: Which one spends all day running errands and which one says “You remembered [thing], right?” Leon isn’t allowed to run errands by himself because he’d get lost, so Raihan is usually the grocery-getter. Raihan will be in the checkout line and almost always get a last minute text from Leon asking for one more item. It drives Raihan bonkers.
9: Which one drives the car and which one gives them directions? Leon is the driver, and Raihan is the “direction giver” (let’s be real, he’s more focused on what song they play next than getting them to their destination). If it’s a group road trip, neither of them are allowed in the front because they’ll just end up getting everyone lost.
10: Which one does the posing while the other one draws? Ok, so I don’t really think one of them would draw the other. They’re much more of an “active, sporty couple” than an “artsy couple”. That doesn’t mean it hasn’t happened, though. During one of their dates, they decided to doodle each other on their napkins to help pass the time. They were both terrible and it got really heated when the waitress chose Leon’s drawing as “slightly less worse”.
11: If they were about to rob a museum, which one does backflips through lasers and which one is strolling behind with a bag of chips? Are you kidding? They’d both try to out-do each other. Both backflippers.
12: Which one of your OTP overdoes it on the alcohol and which one makes the other stop drinking? I feel like even though Leon has more body mass than Raihan, he’d be the lightweight of the two. Both have been in the League since they were in their late teens, but Leon’s public image had a lot more specifications than Raihan’s. That meant Raihan got to go to a lot more college parties on his nights off and build up his tolerance. Leon’s public relations manager didn’t let him even look at alcohol until he stepped down as champion. He had to “set a good example for his young fans”. (Sufficed to say, Gloria quickly got a new PR manager when she filled his role).
14: Which one keeps accidentally using the other’s last name instead of their own? Raihan learned that if he used Leon’s last name, he could get special treatment. It’s an abuse of power! Especially when they’re having dinner at the Hoffman house and Raihan casually slips in that he’s planning on taking Lee’s last name once they marry. Leon’s convinced his grandparents like Raihan better than they like him at this point.
15: Which one screams about the spider and which one brings the spider outside? Raihan, though he’ll go to an early grave before admitting that. He just doesn’t want them getting webbing on his new shoes! Yeah...that’s it.
16: Which one gives the other their jacket? Leon. It was mentioned above, but Raihan has to be in a really good mood in order to let Leon borrow his stuff. It isn’t that big of a deal, thankfully: The Hoffman boys are like personal heaters.
17: Who keeps getting threatened by the other’s overprotective older sibling? Ok, ok, ok: Raihan is slightly intimidated by Hop. He just wants the best for his big bro! If that means calling Raihan out of his shit from time to time to keep him in line, so be it. Raihan can’t fight back either, because that’s his boyfriend’s little brother! One of the only things Leon gets testy over is people bullying Hop, so Raihan has to do it when he isn’t around.
18: Who’s the first one to admit they have feelings for the other? Leon. It wasn’t one of those things where they’ve always liked each other, but after being friends for so long, their feelings blossomed into something new. Lee is a big flirt and never officially came out, so Raihan just figured he didn’t mean it whenever he complimented him. Leon literally confessed to Raihan at least five time before it sank in that he was serious.
19: How good would your OTP be at parenting? I think they’d actually be pretty good! Leon helped raise Hop and he definitely has the dad act down, so adopting children would be something he’d be super interested in. Raihan may struggle a little bit at first (especially with where the line of what he could and couldn’t post on social media was), but he has a big heart. They would always be there for their kids. If Gloria and Hop are the cool parents, Leon and Raihan are the embarrassing ones. Would tease their kid lovingly.
20: Which one types with perfect grammar and which one types using numbers as letters? Leon has sent a lot of professional texts because of his former position as champion, so he’d win by default. If they’re texting each other, it is all in numbers, emojis, and abbreviations. Sonia, Piers, and Nessa hate being in group chats with them.
21: Who gets attacked by a bully and who protects them? Lee is the more protective of the two, especially when it comes to people bullying Raihan online. Raihan tries to tell him that he doesn't have to do it, but he’s secretly very flattered.
22: Who makes the bad puns and who makes a pained smile every time the other makes a pun? Leon makes the worst dad jokes in the world. Sometimes he does it just to embarrass Raihan.
23: Who comes home from work to see that the other one bought a puppy? They take turns. Raihan will catch a Hakamo-o to beat Lee’s Aegislash, only for Lee to catch an Azumarill from the Isle of Armor a week later. It’s a never ending game of trying to one up the other.
24: Which one gives the other a piggyback ride when they’re tired? Leon. He’s pretty buff, so carrying Raihan around is nothing. He usually does it without asking if his boyfriend looks tired and flusters the heck out of him.
25: Which one competes in some sort of activity and which one does the overzealous cheering? Ever since Leon left he league, he makes it a priority to go to every one of Raihan’s matches. He often dons ridiculous disguises in order to not get recognised, but he always gets recognised. There is an online forum just made up of pictures of him in different, weird attire. He might’ve even been able to slip by public notice if not for the fact that he tries to make AS MUCH NOISE AS POSSIBLE to cheer his boyfriend on.
26: Who takes a selfie when the other one falls asleep on their shoulder? Is there even a possible different answer than Raihan? The man takes selfies as a living. You better believe he has 8 different folders of pictures of Leon.
27: Which one would give the other a makeover if they asked? Raihan. Leon is so close to having style, but then he’ll throw on his signature snapback and a cape and ruin everything. You know the cape isn’t even a requirement for the champion to wear? Yeah, Lee just chose to wear it. He counts it as a small victory whenever Leon decides to buy something at one of Rai’s favourite stores.
28: Which one owns a pet that the other is absolutely terrified of? Raihan tries not to get between Leon and Charizard. It’s a similar situation to the Hop one: Charizard is Lee’s baby, which means Raihan isn’t allowed to tease them.
29: Which one holds the umbrella over both of them when it rains? Raihan, but he purposely will move the umbrella out from above Leon to get him soaked. It’s payback for all the other stuff he does.
30: If your OTP went on vacation, where would they go and what would they do? Who would take the pictures? Like Gloria and Hop, I think they’d travel to all the regions. They’d have to do it on off seasons and couldn't stay long due to their duties in Galar, but they like seeing the new types of pokemon. Once again, Rai would take millions of pictures. He has a photo album per vacation, not just vacation in general.
#GPL AU#pokemon#pokemon sword and shield#pokemon au#pokemon swsh#swsh#swsh leon#pokemon leon#champion leon#swsh raihan#pokemon raihan#gym leader raihan#leon x raihan#truerivalshipping#The banter between these two would be unbeatable#half the time people aren't sure if they even like each other#best boyfriends ever
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The Starving Games ft. Freddie Weasel: AKA Pt. 1 of my Hunger Games x Harry Potter crossover series (OC x Fred Weasley)
Warnings (None of these are really graphic, but feel free not to read if any of these things make you uncomfortable!!): Blood, knives, knife wound, character death(s), severe injury mention (lost limbs), dead animal mention?? (a rat)
This is the first fic I’ve ever written! I got the idea from a post I saw from @wand3ringr0s3 Comments and criticism are GREATLY appreciated and it’d be really cool to get some feedback on my writing style!!
a/n: Also if I do write more, this is gonna be an enemies to allies to lovers situation bc I <3 angst
Tagging my mutuals: @ourloveisforthelovely @darthwheezely @amrtxntia @anchoeritic @kellsslut @whizboingies @beiahadid
Darkness. Pure black. I hear noises coming from somewhere. Muffled. Echoing through the endless void around me. The noises become louder. Someone is talking. The more I listen, the louder and clearer they get. Clear enough that I can almost make out the words. Suddenly, everything goes deafeningly quiet. My ears start ringing. But then, a single voice echoes through the silence, “Seph?”. I recognize it immediately. “Maeve?” I call out. “Seph? Is that you?” she responds, her voice shaky with fear. “Yes, yes, Maeve, it’s me. Where are you?”
“I don’t know.” she responds, panic rising in her voice. “Seph, I’m scared.”
“I know. I know, kiddo,” I swallow hard, “Hey. Hey, listen, I’m gonna find you, okay? Just stay calm.”
My heart is racing. I look around for some sort of clue, but nothing but complete darkness surrounds me. I tentatively reach my hand out in front of me. My fingertips graze something. Something cold. I take a step forward and reach out again. My hand finds what feels like a thin chain. I roll it around in my fingers before pulling down on it. The space is immediately flooded with blinding white light. I blink a few times to adjust my eyes to the sudden brightness. I’m at home; a tiny one room flat that I share with my mother, sister, and our cat. Except it’s empty- no furniture, not even a door. I see my sister standing a few feet in front of me, her hands bound together by a thick rope. “Maeve!” I rush towards her. “Seph!” she cries. As I reach out to hug her I’m pushed back by an invisible force. I look up and there she is- standing inside a giant glass dome. I take a few steps back, trying to register what I’m seeing.
“Shall we draw the names?” I whip my head around to see a woman in a magenta frock standing on the other side of the room. Her dress is covered in so many frills and flounces that she takes up half the flat. On her head is a ridiculous blonde wig that must add at least two feet to her height. Her face is covered entirely in white powder, with her cheeks overly rouged, and her top lip painted magenta to match the dress. She looks like a very posh clown.
“I-I’m sorry what?”
She laughs airily, “The names, darling. Surely you remembered?”
“Remember what?”
She tsked then pulled out two smaller versions of the glass dome from the frills at the front of her dress. They each had a small slip of paper in them. “Go on. Pick one.” Her voice was incredibly high-pitched, and she spoke with a capitol accent. I stepped towards her and hesitantly reached into the bowl in her right hand. I unfolded the slip of paper, ‘Maeve Whitlock’. I stared at the name in confusion.
“I don’t understand.”
“Will you take her fate as your own?”
“What do you mean? What fate?”
The woman let out another laugh, this one high and cold, it echoed around the entire room and caused the floor to shake. Suddenly, I heard Maeve call out to me, “SEPH!” I looked back to where she was in the dome. There was a dark, shadowy figure standing behind her, holding a knife to her neck. Her hands and feet were bound to a small wooden chair, and her mouth was now gagged with a dishcloth. I ran towards the dome, panic rising further in my chest. “MAEVE!” I shouted desperately. She looked at me fearfully, tears rolling slowly down her cheeks. I banged and kicked and rammed my body at the glass so hard, I should’ve shattered something. But it was no use. I looked back to where the woman had been standing, but she was gone. The shadowy figure stood still, holding the knife to my sister’s neck.
“LET GO OF HER YOU FREAK!” I cried, banging my fists against the dome. Maeve was panicking now, her chest rising and falling rapidly, tears running down her face, her muffled pleas penetrating through the glass. “MAEVE.” I cried out; my voice cracked as the salty tears streamed down my cheeks. But I was too late. The dark figure suddenly slashed the knife across her throat, her cries stopped and she slumped down into her seat, eyes still half open, blood now seeping into her blouse. “NO!” I screamed, sinking down to the ground. The glass squeaked as my hands dragged down over the exterior. I looked back up towards the shadowy figure, only to see it was no longer there. In its place I saw myself, a satisfied smile on my face. I heard the clownish woman’s disembodied laugh echo through the flat, “What a pity,” the voice said, “you could’ve saved her! But now, I’m afraid, you must face the consequences of your actions.” The clone slowly raised the hand still holding the knife, and pointed directly at me. Suddenly, I felt the cool touch of metal against my throat. The other me winked, and I felt the blade drag deep across my neck. I started to choke, the blood pooling into my airways. I instinctively brought my hand up to the wound. My vision started turning black around the edges. I looked down to see the front of my dress already soaked in red. The last thing I saw was my own hand, holding the knife, droplets of blood falling steadily from the tip of the blade. Then, everything went dark.
My eyes shot open. All I saw was fur, and something was blocking my breathing. I sat up quickly, and the ball of fluff leapt off my face. The cat looked up at me from his new place on my lap- those big amber eyes practically staring into my soul- and meowed loudly. I sighed in annoyance. “Stupid cat.” I grumbled as I lifted him up and let him jump to the floor. I rubbed my eyes and tried to slow my racing heartbeat. My body was covered in a sheen of cold sweat. I looked down at the bed to see my sister still sleeping soundly beside me. I took a deep, shaky breath and stroked the top of her head, moving away some of the stray hairs lying across her face. I glanced over at the digital clock next to me, SUNDAY: JULY 4. 8:26 AM. Today was Reaping Day; no wonder I had that horrible nightmare. This would be my 4th year participating in the drawing, it was Maeve’s first. How unlucky it was that her twelfth birthday had only been three days prior. If she’d just been born a few days later, she could’ve been spared for another year.
I sighed and swung my legs over the side of the bed. My mother was already awake, sewing some buttons back onto Maeve’s school shirt. “Hi, mom.”
“Hi, sweetie. Did you just wake up?”
“Yeah, just now.” I yawned.
“Is Maeve still asleep?”
“Yeah.”
“What time is it?”
“Almost 8:30. Should I wake her up?”
“No, it’s okay,” she sighed, “let her sleep some more. I’ll wake her up soon.” She held up the shirt to examine her work, “Still needs a few more stitches…” She held the needle between her teeth and reached down to her sewing basket to grab another spool of thread. I looked down as I felt the cat’s bushy tail brush past my ankles. I knelt down and scratched behind his ears.
“Did you feed Tulip yet?” I asked. The fluffy, tricolor, flat-faced cat was now sitting at my feet, purring contentedly.
“Didn’t have to; he caught his own breakfast. A huge rat, which he so lovingly dropped on my pillow this morning.” My mother replied.
I stifled a laugh.
“Since you’re already up, go ahead and shower. I’ve laid out your clothes for you on the kitchen table, so when you’re done, just change into them and come back here so I can do your hair. Okay?”
“Okay.”
She smiled at me then went back to her work. I grabbed some soap and a clean towel from the small shelf near the entrance and walked out. “Make sure you don’t use up all the hot water!” she called out as I closed the door behind me. “Don’t worry, I won’t!”.
We didn’t have our own bathroom- there was one toilet and one shower per floor, which could be shared by anywhere from 5 to 20 people. There were 5 apartments on each of the 4 floors- all one room- with one bed, a stove, a sink, a small table and chairs, and some shelves for storage. Each apartment had a heater and air conditioner, but they were never guaranteed to work when you needed them. Sometimes only one side of the building would have heating, or only certain floors had AC, or only specific apartments. Often, the whole building wouldn’t have either for days at a time. The same thing happened with the water and electricity. You could never fully rely on any of the appliances being in working order. As a result, we shared a lot with other apartments. If someone’s stove wasn’t working, they could just knock on a neighbor’s door and use theirs. If only one apartment on our floor had heating during the winter, there were no objections when everyone else would come over and make themselves at home. It made it feel like we were all one family, and it was customary to refer to many of your neighbors as your aunt or uncle. This was common throughout the District, as almost everyone aside from the mayor and peacekeepers lived in small, rundown tenements, expanding outwards from the city center, which was home to the Justice building. Here, in District 8, we produce textiles. There are 6 factories in total; one of which is entirely dedicated to making peacekeeper uniforms. We typically start in the factories at 14, splitting the day between school and work. We aren’t assigned specific jobs until we turn 18. Until then, those in charge of production make requests for certain numbers of workers, and we go wherever we’re needed. Once we finish school, we’re assigned permanent job positions based on both our aptitude tests and our performances in various factory tasks. The better you do on the aptitude test, the better (or at least safer) your job will be. Those with the highest scores tend to be assigned as desk jockeys- where the risk of dying on the job is fairly low. Those with the lowest scores are sent to work in the most dangerous parts of the factories; you can always tell who works there because chances are, they’ve lost some part of their limbs...or face...or they’re, you know, missing a hand...Then there’s those whose scores fall somewhere in the middle; if they have a specific skill, like baking, or perhaps healing, they’re assigned a job based on that. The rest are assigned mid-level factory jobs, which were still dangerous, but the chances of getting to keep all your fingers were significantly higher! (But not guaranteed).
When I turned on the shower, I was pleasantly surprised to find that the water was delightfully warm. It took everything in me not to keep standing there, enjoying the warmth, until the water would turn cold. I shivered as I stepped out of the shower and quickly wrapped my towel around me. I walked swiftly down the hall and flung open the door to the apartment. I grabbed my outfit from the kitchen table. A white trapeze-line dress ending an inch or so above my knees, long billowy sleeves pulled tight at the wrists, and a mock turtleneck with tiny ruffles adorning the edge. My shoes sat on the floor next to it; dark blue suede ankle-boots with small square heels.They were a birthday present from my mother; most definitely from the black market. I got dressed and pulled up a stool in front of my mother’s chair. She combed through my curls as gently as she could, but I still winced when she pulled too hard at a knot. She braided four small plaits at the front and sides of my hair, pulling them into two larger braids that she twisted together and pinned to the back of my head. She handed me the mirror. I looked into it and smiled, “It’s beautiful. Thank you.” I turned around and hugged her tightly. She smelled of soap and clean linen, and something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on- all I knew was that it was comforting and warm. I held on a little longer than usual. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, inhaling her scent. She brought her hand up and gently stroked the back of my head. We both knew what could happen today...I tried my best not to think about it. Maeve soon came back from the shower and changed into a mod-style purple dress and black mary janes. My mother braided her hair in a similar style to mine, adding a small flower clip at the side. She looked us once over, nodded, then stood at the mirror and added a few pins to secure her own hairstyle. She sighed, “Ready?”
“Yeah.” “Yeah.” my sister and I said in unison.
My mother chuckled lightly as we stepped through the threshold.
We walked the few blocks over to the underground and boarded the train headed to the Justice building. The train car was packed. Everyone was dressed in their best (and most colorful) outfit. These types of clothes were only worn on special occasions; those above working age wore grey coveralls to work and school, and something drab and ill-fitting otherwise. As we exited the train car, I kept a tight grip on Maeve’s hand. As we emerged from the underground, our eyes were bombarded with light, and I squinted as the brightness flooded my vision. When my eyes adjusted, I spotted the registration table. I gave my mother a brief hug and went to join the girls’ line with Maeve. Soon, we’d reached the front. I looked down at Maeve, “You want me to go first, kiddo?”
She glanced up at me with wide eyes, then stared forward and shook her head.
“You sure?”
“Mhmm. I just wanna get it over with.”
“Okay.” I hunched over and whispered into her ear, “You’re gonna be fine, I promise. It’s not as bad as you think. I’ll see you in a few minutes, yeah?”
She nodded. I gave her hand a squeeze and watched her walk up to the table. I heard them speaking faintly and a few minutes later, she turned around to look at me, a nervous expression on her face. I gave her a reassuring nod then headed over there myself.
The woman at the table sat there with a bored expression. She looked to be in her 30’s, but the heavy dark circles under her eyes seemed to age her quite a few years.
“Last name?” She said. She didn’t bother to look up at me.
“Whitlock.”
“Whitlock…” she muttered, flipping through the pages, “Right, Whitlock. Persephone?”
“Yeah.”
She crossed my name off the list. “You’re sixteen?”
“Yes.”
“Okay,” she sighed, “Hold out your hand, please.” She took a small device next to her and clipped it onto my index finger. I winced when I felt the needle prick my skin. She unclipped the device then stamped my wrist with the capitol’s sigil.
“You can go join your age group, fourth line from the left.”
“Thanks,” I muttered.
She paused, then looked up at me sympathetically, “And um, good luck.”
I nodded and gave her a curt smile before heading over to join my peers. We were arranged by age and gender, boys and girls separate, all standing in rows in front of the stage. I stood waiting, and mindlessly watched the rows slowly multiply. I didn’t know how much time had passed, but soon enough, I looked up at the stage to see a woman in a bright magenta pantsuit. The hem of her skirt was decorated with a flounce of fabric, and she wore a light pink blouse underneath her suit jacket. The front of it contained so many ruffles, you could hardly see her neck. Her hair was pale blonde, and styled in a way that made it look like a cloud sitting on top of her head. Her face was powdered white, save for her blushed cheeks and glossy lipstick. Her lips were absurdly over lined, both painted a shocking fuchsia that closely matched her outfit. She approached the podium with tiny steps and cleared her throat daintily, “Welcome, everyone, to the reaping ceremony for the 59th annual Hunger Games!” People remained silent; the only reaction being a cough from someone in the crowd. She cleared her throat once more, “As always, we shall begin by watching a special film from the capitol, telling us the history and origins of this unique tradition, and to remind us why we are all standing here today.”
At her words, the two televisions turned on to display the Capitol’s sigil. It faded out, and a film about the glorious history of Panem started rolling. I tuned out and stared blankly at the rows of people ahead of me. When the film concluded, Ms. magenta up at the podium clapped enthusiastically. She was the only one. “Oh, wasn’t that wonderful?” She exclaimed, “What a rich history this nation has.”
I scoffed, that’s one way to put it, I thought.
“Now, as always- ladies first.” She stuck her hand into the large glass bowl on the right side of the podium and shuffled her hand through the slips of paper before snatching one up. She gingerly unfolded the paper and held it delicately between her index finger and thumb.
She cleared her throat and read out the name, “Maeve Whitlock.”
I felt my heart stop in my chest.
No.
My eyes darted through the crowd and I saw people make way for her as she slowly walked to the stage, shaking with every step. Images from my dream flashed through my mind- most poignantly, the image of me watching helplessly, as a dark shadowy figure slashed a knife across my sister’s throat. Panic rose in my chest; my heart beat so loudly in my ears that I barely heard myself shout, “WAIT!” Everyone turned to look at me. My breathing sped up as I suddenly felt at a loss for air, “I volunteer.” I added, my voice cracking slightly, “I volunteer as tribute.” Maeve looked back at me with pleading eyes and shook her head furiously. I avoided her gaze and stared straight ahead as the crowd parted to allow me through to the stage. I paused to grab Maeve’s hand and squeeze it tightly. I cradled the back of her head and planted a kiss atop her forehead. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment as I shakily released her from my grasp and allowed the other girls in the crowd to place a comforting hand on her shoulders as they quietly pulled her away from me. I walked up to the stage and slowly climbed the short flight of steps to then take my place just behind the glass bowl from which my sister’s name was drawn. I can’t believe I’m about to be shepherded to my untimely death because of a stupid glass bowl. I felt my hands getting clammy, and I held to the hem of my dress to keep them from shaking. Ms. Magenta smiled and stepped towards me, “And what is your name, dear?”
“Persephone Whitlock.” I stated.
“And you are…?”
“Her sister.”
“Her sister! Oh, well, of course you are!” she remarked, “Well, that was a very brave thing you just did, Persephone. I’m sure I speak for everyone when I say that this was a truly inspiring moment! Well done! And may the odds be ever in your favor.” she smiled brightly and turned towards the crowd. There were a few measly claps, but they quickly fell silent. “And now, let us draw our male tribute.” She stepped over to the glass bowl on her left and repeated the process. I stared blankly past the rows of people; only when she read the name was my trance broken, “Frederick Weasley.” A tall, redheaded boy emerged from the crowd. I stared as he made his way up to the podium. I recognized him from school. I didn’t know him well, but I knew he had a twin brother- George, I think- who’d lost an ear in a factory accident a few years prior, and was thus ineligible to compete in the Games, as his injury would be an unfair advantage to the other tributes. Apparently, he’d been checking the cogs underneath a broken machine when it somehow turned on and cut his left ear clean off. It was formally reported as an accident, but it’s been rumored that he did it on purpose. There were no witnesses, so no one can say for sure, but if it was intentional, I can’t say I blame him for doing it. There are very few ways you can get out of the games if you’re under 18- something as extreme as losing an ear would certainly fall under that category. I stared at the redhead as he took his place behind the other glass bowl. He was tall, at least 6 foot 4, and seemed to tower over my own 5 foot 10 frame. I’d always thought I was fairly tall for my age, and was used to surpassing most adults in height; but standing next to him, I felt like a child. His entire body was long and lean, but I could tell from the way his shirt clung to him that he was not just skin and bone. He had a well-structured face. Round brown eyes, thin lips, a prominent, romanesque nose; his jaw was clenched as he stared straight ahead and refused to look at me. Him and his brother were known for pulling pranks and cracking jokes at school- there was a strange, impish quality to his features that unintentionally revealed his penchant for mischief. Every inch of his cool, pale skin was covered in freckles. Despite his pallid complexion, his cheeks always seemed to have a slight blush to them that made everything about him appear bright and lively. However, at the present moment, his face had been drained of all colour, save for a rather sickly green tinge. No wonder he doesn’t want to look at me- poor kid looks like he’s about to puke. Ms. Magenta finally stepped forward, “Excellent! We now have our two lovely tributes! Both of whom will now be escorted into the Justice building to await further instructions; Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor!” And with that, the Capitol’s sigil was once again displayed on the TVs, and its anthem blasted through the speakers. Suddenly, I felt four hands grab me by the arms and forcefully pull me backwards. I stumbled slightly, and looked up to see the two peacekeepers responsible. They continued to pull me across the stage before practically shoving me down the stairs and onto the cobblestone street. From the corner of my eye, I could see that my fellow tribute was receiving the same gentle treatment as they dragged- I’m sorry, escorted him- to the large, looming structure behind us. As they “escorted” me towards the building’s heavy brass doors, I looked back frantically, trying to spot my mother and sister. But the crowd had gotten rowdier, and they were all being jammed together as the peacekeepers continued to push them away from the stage. My breathing quickened, and I could feel the blood pumping through every vein in my body. When we reached the threshold, the brass doors opened to reveal a high-ceilinged marble hall, and a rush of cool air escaped them. So THIS is where all our air-conditioning goes, I thought to myself. Every sound echoed through the building’s marble interior. I craned my neck upwards and tried to take in every opulent detail as I was dragged down a hallway and shoved into a small room, where the peacekeepers finally released me from their vice grip. “Wait here,” one of them said. They both left and shut the door behind them. I massaged my sore upper arms. “You didn’t have to pull me so hard, you know!” I shouted at the door, “not like I was planning on going anywhere!”. I sighed and stepped back from the door. “Assholes,” I muttered to myself. I plopped down onto a green velvet armchair and examined my surroundings. The walls and ceilings were paneled in rich, mahogany wood. The square panels above me were covered in intricate carvings, complementing the elaborate crystal chandelier hanging in the center. While I assumed the floor was wood, it was hard to tell because of the heavy oriental rugs that adorned its surface. There were two large windows behind me, both framed by plush velvet curtains. They were the same emerald green as the chair, and were tied back with a thick, gold rope that had tassels on the end of it, so as to allow in natural light. There was not much furniture in the room aside from two armchairs- one of which I already occupied- a round, wooden coffee table between them, and two empty bookshelves inlaid in the wall on either side of the room. A thin blue vase containing a single white rose sat in the center of the coffee table. The smell of it was unnaturally overpowering. Something about it made me uneasy, so I carefully pushed it to the far side of the table and shifted away from it. I unconsciously started chewing on my lip. I couldn’t sit still. Sitting there shaking my leg, or playing with the hem of my dress, wasn’t helping. I let out a frustrated groan and jolted up from my seat. I continued to chew my lip as I restlessly paced back and forth across the room. The heavy rugs didn’t hide the creaking of the floorboards as I stomped across them. After what felt like hours, I heard the door creak open. I stopped in my tracks and ran to the door to greet my mother before she’d even entered the room. Her and my sister enveloped me in a bone-crushing hug which I eagerly returned. The peacekeeper standing behind them cleared his throat. We slowly let go of each other and turned to face him. “You have ten minutes to say goodbye- not a second more.” he said in a gruff voice. As my mother and sister stepped fully into the room, the peacekeeper roughly shut the door behind them and left.
END OF PART ONE
a/n: If you’ve made it this far, 1. Hi, I love you 2. Will I write more for this series? To quote John Mulaney, “Who’s to say?”.
#hunger games#the hunger games#hunger games au#hunger games fanfic#hunger games x harry potter#harry potter#harry potter au#crossover#fanfic#original character#oc#my oc#oc x character#fred weasley x oc#muggle fred weasley#harry potter oc#hunger games oc#fred weasley#harry potter fanfic#harry potter fanfiction#hunger games fanfiction#fred weasley fanfiction#fred weasley fic#fred weasley fanfic#enemies to allies#allies to lovers#tw blood#tw knives#tw injury#tw death
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Don’t Tell Ryder; XXI: I Love Snow! Remnant Though...
Chapter 21 of Don’t Tell Ryder (Master List)
Pairing: Evfra de Tershaav + OC
Words: 2281
Though they didn’t say anything about it, Cassiel could tell that Drack and Vetra were both very grateful that they didn’t even have to wake up until 11, unlike Colin and his ground crew, who were up at the crack of dawn, which was a lot earlier on Voeld than the other planets they had visited so far.
Cassiel had woken up briefly around 4 am to Colin leaving their shared quarters. Mr. Tumnus had grunted, his eyes small slits as he raised his head to watch Colin walk out, before he plopped back down to rest his head on Cassiel’s hip. She had groaned, tugging her blankets further up in a half-awake daze before heading back to the land of unconsciousness.
Around 11, Cassiel made her way to the galley, already dressed for her day of activating monoliths. Mr. Tumnus was still eating his food in her and Colin’s quarters. She grabbed a nutrient bar, nodding to Suvi, who was shoveling some cereal into her mouth while avidly reading through some report on a datapad. The scientist didn’t even look up in acknowledgement, too absorbed in the report.
“Morning, Drack,” Cassiel chirped to the krogan as he came in, and he let out a grunt in greeting, digging through a cabinet for a nutrient bar.
“So we’re going out and activating monoliths?” he asked, and Cassiel nodded. He grunted. “Maybe there’ll be some kett heads to knock together,” there was a lilt of hope in his voice, and Cassiel scoffed playfully.
“Perhaps,” she acquiesced, before holding a finger up. “Though I’m not going out of my way to satisfy your bloodlust, grandpa turtle,�� she said, and Drack let out a loud laugh.
“Whatever, tiny,” just then, Vetra came in, seeming very refreshed as she grabbed her own nutrient bar.
“Morning,” the turian greeted, and Cassiel waved at her. Everybody in the galley jumped when the door swished open once more and Mr. Tumnus rushed in, being sure to greet everybody. He rubbed up against Cassiel briefly before going over and sitting right by Vetra’s feet. The turian woman cooed and crouched down to give him affectionate scritches behind his horns, and Suvi perked up as well, setting aside her datapad to give some love to the flanjaak. Mr. Tumnus practically preened at the attention, his tail thumping against the floor happily.
A little later, after leaving Mr. Tumnus with Lexi, the crew were in the nomad heading towards the first monolith.
“Which way, SAM?” Cassiel asked, and the AI piped up after a moment.
“Head northeast,” he told her, and Cassiel nodded, before turning to Vetra in the passenger’s seat with a questioning look. The turian sighed, chuckling slightly as she pointed in the direction SAM had indicated, and Cassiel nodded again.
“Thanks!” she chirped, before shifting the nomad into gear and speeding across the icy tundra.
“Wow!” Vetra gasped, her hands going to grasp the sides of her seat tightly. Drack laughed.
“If you drive anything like your brother, pipsqueak, we’re gonna have problems,” he was able to say through his laughter at Vetra’s terror. Cassiel gasped in offense.
“How dare you?” she hissed. “Colin can’t drive for shit! I was a professional driver!” she rolled her eyes. “Besides, we’re literally in an open snowy field, there are no obstacles to avoid or anything,”
“Kett camp ahead,” SAM intoned, and Cassiel cursed, shooting a glare towards Drack, whose laughter came back with renewed vigor.
“Shut up,” she muttered, allowing the vehicle to drift now that she could see the kett structures ahead of her. “Not you, SAM, Drack,” she said as an afterthought, realizing that the AI may have thought the statement was directed at it. “What do you think, Vetra? Go around or take them on?” she asked, and Vetra chuckled, preparing her shotgun at her side.
“Is that a question?” she scoffed. “Let’s go kill some kett!” Cassiel chuckled, swinging the nomad so it skidded to a stop right in front of the camp, with Vetra’s door facing towards them. The kett all started shouting as the trio slammed open their doors and started firing. Cassiel stayed a little further back, shooting any stragglers she noticed as Vetra and Drack did the heavy lifting. The krogan was having a grand old time, swinging his hammer at any kett he could get within reach of, and Vetra was just chuckling slightly at his enthusiasm as she lobbed a grenade towards a couple huddled together near a heater. They didn’t even have time to scramble away before it detonated, sending sticky green blood flying in all directions. Cassiel was glad to be far away from the blast site.
Only 20 minutes later they arrived at the first monolith of the day, which went easily enough. Vetra was a little miffed at having to stand in the cold while Cassiel went around searching for the glyphs she needed, but once Cassiel had found them and activated the monolith, Vetra was no longer complaining. Some remnant had powered up, seemingly coming from nowhere and attacking the trio.
Vetra, at least, was happy to now have adrenaline, or the turian equivalent, pumping through her veins to keep her warm as she shot at the hovering observer, which sparked as a shot hit its eye, causing it to start to fall down. Drack crushed it with his hammer as soon as it was low enough, and Cassiel was able to use her omniblade to destroy a breacher that had gone in to restrain her.
“You good Cassiel?” Vetra called from behind cover as another observer started its laser up.
“All good! You?” Cassiel called back, behind her own cover a couple meters away.
“Peachy!”
“Drack?” she only got joyous laughter in response, so she assumed he was fine.
At the next monolith, after activating it and killing the remnant, Cassiel’s comm beeped with an incoming call from Kallo.
“Cassiel, there’s a kett shuttle inbound to your location, is everything alright?” Cassiel’s eyes widened, and she gestured for everyone to get in the nomad. She flung herself into the driver’s seat as she responded, not even waiting for Drack to finish closing his door before flooring it.
“Everything’s fine Kallo!” she shouted over the roar of the engine. “Don’t tell Colin byeee!” and with that she ended the call.
“Cassiel-” Vetra began, fear in her voice as Cassiel was going straight towards a sheer cliff.
“Uh huh,” was all the girl said in response.
“Cassiel!” Vetra tried again, and Cassiel just rolled her shoulders, eyes narrowing in concentration.
“CASSIEL!” at this Cassiel began laughing gleefully. The wheels left the ground, the nomad flying over the cliff as Vetra and Drack screamed and Cassiel continued to laugh.
“About 10 meters from the ground, Cassiel engaged the jump thrusters, causing their landing to just feel like they had gone over a rather rough bump. Cassiel was still laughing as Vetra and Drack tried to regain their breath and a normal heartrate.
“Cassiel?” it was Kallo again. “You just dropped 100 meters in altitude, are you alright?” Cassiel was still giggling, unable to respond, so Vetra responded for her.
“She just drove us off a fucking cliff,” she grunted, still winded, and scrambling was heard from the other end.
“Are you okay?!” Kallo asked, voice slightly panicked. Vetra hummed an affirmation.
“We landed fine, she used the jump boost, I don’t even think the Nomad was damaged,” they heard a sigh of relief.
“Okay,” Cassiel was finally able to reign in her giggles, taking a deep breath as she hit the accelerator again, sending them forward towards the final monolith.
“You got quads, kid,” Drack said, and Cassiel grinned.
“Of course I do!”
“I don’t mean to nag, but the kett still have your location,” Kallo said, and Cassiel’s eyes narrowed.
“I can lose them,” she said, certainty in her voice. “SAM, could you please scan nearby topography for the lowest elevation that’s easiest to get to?” she asked, and there was a moment of silence before SAM piped up.
“Lowest elevation that the nomad can access is 2 kilometers away,” SAM told her, and Cassiel beamed.
“Thank you!” she chirped. “Which way?”
“Turn 30 degrees counterclockwise,” SAM instructed, and Cassiel did so. “Straight ahead,” she nodded, pushing her foot all the way down on the pedal and switching the nomad from all terrain to smooth terrain, causing them to glide across the snow much faster than they could have otherwise.
“What’s the plan?” Vetra asked, and Cassiel glanced at the turian out of the corner of her eye.
“The snow and low elevation will throw off our heat signatures, making us look more like the animals native to Voeld than a couple sentients in a vehicle,” she explained, and heard a noise of surprise from Drack.
“Damn,” he muttered. “Never would’ve pegged you for someone with the know how for evading enemies,” Cassiel chuckled slightly, though the sound was a little strained.
“I plan to keep on surprising you, Grandpa,” she shot over her shoulder, finally seeing a dip in the snow leading towards a valley. “It’s a good thing the nomad’s white, otherwise this wouldn’t work,” she muttered to herself, bringing the nomad down into the valley. As soon as they were at the lowest point in the valley, Cassiel threw the nomad into park and turned to Vetra.
“Could you move your arm?” she asked, and Vetra made a noise of confusion, but did so without much fuss. Lifting up the central panel, Cassiel grabbed her sniper, assembling it so quickly that Vetra and Drack barely knew what was happening. They exchanged confused looks as Cassiel opened the sunroof, pointing her rifle at an ice formation about halfway up the cliff face. Firing, the ice broke away, allowing snow to cascade down into the valley, not quite avalanche level, and it settled to a stop slightly before where Cassiel had parked the nomad. She closed the sunroof once more, shifting the nomad into gear to bring it the couple of meters forward so that the grill was pressed right up against the snowbank. She then turned the nomad off and turned to her companions, who were giving her bewildered stares.
“Since when do you snipe?” Drack asked, and Cassiel shrugged, not looking at either of them.
She hadn’t had food in at least 3 days at this point. Luckily there was still some water left in her canteen. She had given up on being clean, instead rubbing the reddish clay over her clothes so she could blend in with the desert landscape. Far below where Cassiel was laying down on her belly, a raider camp was set up. Seven people, three were human, four were turian. Cassiel squeezed her eyes shut, taking in a deep breath, before adjusting herself and looking through the scope once more. Breathe in, breathe out-
BANG!
“It’s a… long story,” Cassiel finally said, before wincing. “Don’t tell Colin!” Vetra and Drack exchanged looks, before Drack was chuckling.
“What can we tell Colin?” he asked jokingly, and Cassiel’s lips quirked up in a small smile.
“Preferably nothing,” she giggled, and Drack laughed. Vetra gave a weak chuckle, though her shivering was taking up most of her energy.
“The shuttle has turned around,” Kallo’s voice piped up through their comms, and Cassiel jumped. “It looks like you’ve lost them, you can keep going now,” Cassiel breathed out a sigh of relief, turning the nomad back on.
“Thanks Kal,” she said as Vetra hummed happily at the heat flooding the vents. “You know the drill, don’t tell my brother,” they heard the salarian ‘hmph’ through the comms before a low tone was heard, signaling he disconnected.
A little over an hour later, Drack, Vetra, and Cassiel were at Resistance HQ to restock on ammo and rest for a bit before heading to the vault. They had activated the third monolith without much fuss, and Cassiel sighed happily as she slumped near a heat lamp. She lifted her arm, plugging a couple commands into her tool before her own face popped up, signaling she was videocalling Lexi.
The doctor answered after only a moment, worry in their voice.
“Cassiel, are you alright?” they asked, and Cassiel nodded with a smile.
“Yeah, we’re gonna go to the vault in an hour or so,” she informed the asari. “I just wanted to check in,” Lexi nodded, relief clear on her face.
“Oh, you’re not hurt?” Cassiel shook her head, before perking up slightly.
“Where’s Mr. Tumnus?” she asked, and Lexi smirked slightly, flipping the camera so Cassiel could see her flanjaak, whose tail was thumping against the floor at the sound of her voice. He was sat directly in front of Lexi, the toy Aarvos had given him resting in front of his legs. “Hi baby!” Cassiel cooed. “I’ll be back soon! Then we can go play in the snow!” as if he understood her, Mr. Tumnus’ tail thwacked against the floor at an even quicker tempo.
“See you soon, Cassiel,” Lexi chirped, before ending the call, and Cassiel smiled.
After a moment, she opened up her messages, shooting a quick one to Evfra.
Cassiel: If all goes well, Voeld’s vault should be up and running by the end of they day
She thought for a moment, before typing out a followup message, grimacing awkwardly.
Cassiel: Or Voeld’s day, I’m not sure what time it currently is on Aya…
She didn’t even have to wait a full minute before her tool beeped with Evfra’s reply.
Evfra: It is currently morning on Aya
Evfra: Good luck, may stars and skies guide your path
Cassiel: Thank you
TAGLIST: @sauce-pansexuals
#Don't Tell Ryder Mass Effect#evfra de tershaav#vetra nyx#nakmor drack#mass effect fanfiction#Mass Effect#mass effect andromeda#Evfra x oc#Evfra x Ryder#custom ryder#Extra Ryder Sibling
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Breathe - (Platonic) Alex x stressed out!reader
Summary: (Female Reader, but feel free to request for any and every other gender!) Y/N feels more stressed than usual, trying to balance home life and school life, and her coping skills aren’t going very... well. She gets a little help from a special someone who guides her and helps her live in the present moment.
Warnings: Anxiety, stress, school, cursing, what more can I say? Also the gays because Willie and Alex own my heart lmao
Word count: 1.9k
Requested: Yes! By anon :)
~
Whenever Y/N tried to get an assignment done, it went a little something like this: first she tried to get everything done by creating a small basis of a tool list. She was still feeling bloated, tired, hot, and sticky, but she went with it and continued to waste 10 minutes on making her to-do list aesthetically pleasing. After that, she thought, “Hmm... maybe I do want to take a break,” but she doesn’t anyway, so Y/N gets out her assignments, lays them all out, and just as she’s about to get started: hey, I wonder how many people can relate to me on xyz, and then she’d get distracted on social media.
Y/N would spend an entire 40 minutes on her phone before she remembers, “MY ASSIGNMENT IS DUE,” so she flips it back out, gets started, but can’t seem to get that guilty feeling of not doing her work out of her head, so she slightly uses that as an excuse to take a break. Only, she don’t take a break and end up rolling out of her chair and going on her phone again, and she still feel just as (or even more) exhausted. Then that’s when the guilt really starts seeping in, and Y/N realizes that she has another extra-curricular class so she gets ready for that, but by the time she’s done, there’s only 30 minutes before the due date-- so she start crying and gives up.
And that’s just a short summary of it.
It was dawning the last few weeks of exam months, and Y/N had been cramming all of her assignments over and over again, constantly getting burnt out and not moving up from her seat, even though she wanted to. It was as if she was glued to her chair, unable to move and constantly on the go at the same time. The stress of having to deal with so many things at once was one of the most overwhelming things that she’s ever had to experience, even though she knows those feelings come-and-go at times--- but this, this was so much worse than what she ever thought. And she believed that she was in literal hell.
There was a constant feeling of “I need to do this, I need to do that,” but it wasn’t that she didn’t want to do it-- it was that she physically couldn’t. Y/N knew that she couldn’t blame her brain for not doing the assignments, but sometimes, she felt like she had to. All the time. The constant feeling of overwhelming stress finally got to her when she opened up her classroom page to find yet another technical issue and the entire page crashed, leaving her with a due date within 10 minutes. It was currently a quarter before midnight, and she had been living on caffeine pills and sugar for the past week or so.
“𝟓𝟎𝟐 𝐁𝐚𝐝 𝐆𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐲.”
The assignment was due in less than 20 minutes, and now everything was going wrong. Great.
If I had only not gone on my phone... why did I go on my phone for so long? I should have just stayed put, I can’t believe myself, what am I even doing? This isn’t fair, this isn’t far, but is it fair? I did deserve this, but-- I also feel like I don’t, I worked so hard to get here, but what if I lose it? What will everyone think? No, no, this can’t be happening. I fucked up again. Oh no. No. No.
The thoughts came in like a raging, wild waterfall that was out of control and poured out, overflowing in her brain that pooled her thoughts, with tears that eventually spilled over. In the dorms nearby, Y/N could hear Reggie snoring sound-asleep in this room. Everyone in the band was still asleep like nothing was wrong, and overall, it just... wasn’t fair. How come they were sleeping? Why did they get all of that rest, while you were stuck on this stupid assignment that literally meant nothing to you-?
In frustration, Y/N suddenly wasn’t sure how she was supposed to react. She felt like she couldn’t cry-- more like she wasn’t allowed to cry. Her problems weren’t as bad as other peoples’, so why on Earth was she stressing out? It wasn’t her issue, why was everything always going wrong for her? No matter what she ever did, she always seemed to lose. Y/N pulled her hair and threw the nearest thing onto the floor in the darkness of teh night, when she heard a high-pitched echo from the sound, when she realized she had just smashed her laptop onto the tiled floor.
“Shit-” Y/N cursed under her breath and instantly ran over, her entire body and hands trembling over the cracked screen. In hopes of some sort of miracle, she turned the power button on, because maybe, just maybe it could turn on.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three seconds.
Nothing happened, nothing turned on, and in that moment, Y/N wanted to scream. She wanted to scream because she had so much pent-up frustration and anger, she wanted to scream because no one ever seemed to check in on her, she wanted to scream because she had worked so hard to try her best but every single time nothing ever went well for her. Her head was pounding and her eyes felt like they were being weighed down by boulders.
But she took a deep breath and staggered over to her desk to turn on the lights, and-- wait, why was everything spinning? That’s weird, that’s never happened in the room before. Why is that moon upside-down? What’s going on...
~
“Y/N!” a loudly-whispered voice rang.
Y/N groaned, mumbling under her breath and rolled over. Everything sounded like she was underwater, a weird, gurgling sound. Y/N assumed she was dreaming, so she pulled her hoodie over her head and slumped back.
“Y/N,” the voice exclaimed in a hushed tone.
Another mumble. Couldn’t that voice tell that she was trying to sleep?
“Hey, hey, wake up,” the voice continued. Y/N didn’t respond and groaned slightly. “Y/N?” a little... gentler this time? A softer tone? Who...
Suddenly, nothing sounded weird and the low hum of the heaters powered back on as Y/N tried her best to open an eye. She could tell by the faint smell of rain and cinnamon that she was still in her dorm, but who was there? They sounded gentle, sweeter, more... cautious?
“Hey, Y/N, you awake?”
She rubbed her eyes. “Al-” Y/N choked, launching into a coughing fit. “Alex?”
He laughed slightly. “That’s right. Good to know you’re brain is working,”
Working? Brain? Good?
Oh shit.
Y/N immediately stood up, staggering from moving so quickly and mumbled, “I-I need to finish my assignment, it’s almost, it’s almost done-”
“Woah, woah, slow down, y-you need to get some air,” Alex said, hoisting her by the shoulders with his hands.
“I don’ need air, I needa ‘inish the assignment, it’s due in-” she slurred, but turned into a panicked gasp when she whipped around, asking, “Alex, what time is it?”
“Y/N,” he said gently. “that’s not important, you just passed out, you need-”
“No, no, no, no!” she said, mumbling slightly. “Is-- is my laptop still working? Is it still-”
“Hey, I need you to breathe-”
“Alex, can’t you see that I can’t? I have so many things to do, and they’re all due so soon-- if I don’t ace this, if I can’t finish this music piece and somehow get all this shitty math stuff correct, I need to work hard. I need to be productive. I-”
Alex’s face suddenly softened and he nodded, letting her speak more.
“I also really, really need to get this done! If I don’t get it done, I can’t pass this class with you guys, which means that I can’t get a decent degree, and I also can’t do anything without the constant guilt that you guys moved on without me! I want to, I want to relax, I want to breathe, I want to just stay in someone’s arms forever and they’ll tell me that I’ll be fine-”
In those seconds, in-between her times of rambling, Y/N barely noticed that Alex had pulled her outside to the rooftop (which wasn’t very high) and wrapped his arms around, pulling her into the softest hug.
She stopped mid ramble. “Wh-what... what are you doing?” she choked.
“It’s going to be okay,” Alex said slowly, almost as if he were testing the words out.
“S-say... say that-t... again,” Y/N trembled.
“It’s going to be okay. I need you to breathe, is that alright with you?”
It was almost as if Alex had become an entirely different person as he slowly let go of her, then he grabbed onto her shoulders and said, “breathe with me.”
“Inhale,”
1…
2…
3…
“Hold for four seconds,”
1…
2…
3…
4…
“Exhale for five,”
1…
2…
3…
4…
5…
Y/N breathed in and out as they both continued to do that for what seemed like 10 times. Alex also seemed like someone new, not the same out-of-sort and confused guy, but he didn’t seem like a teacher either… like an older brother, someone who guided her no matter what.
“Where… who taught you that method?” Y/N asked, trying to stop her voice from trembling.
Alex immediately broke into a smile so wide that he had smile lines as he stared up into the sky. “Willie taught me,”
Y/N slightly smiled. “He did, huh?”
“Yeah, he’s… he’s pretty beautiful,” he continued to nod with that same old dorky expression.
“Beautiful, huh?” she said, trying to match his tone.
“I mean-- uh, pretty good. At that.” Almost instantly, Alex flushed and changed the topic. “A-are… are you feeling better now?”
“Definitely a lot better than before, but... how did you know you had to do that?”
“W-well, when I saw you rambling, I saw myself, so...” Alex shrugged slightly, his eyes undoubtedly playing along the slightest bit. “And since I never really... well, had parents to comfort me while growing up, and Willie was the first to help me, I assumed that you’d might need some help, too.”
Y/N couldn’t believe her ears. How could there be such a sweet, loving, kind and gentle person right in front of her? His smile was genuine as he nodded slowly again.
Y/N grinned gratefully, shifting her weight from toe-to-toe. “Thank you so, so much, but I- I’m just a bit stressed about my laptop, and…”
“Hey, hey, hey,” Alex stopped her before she could continue. “Don’t get caught up in your thoughts (he learned this quote from Willie), just take another deep breath and your head will be clearer. It’ll-- It’ll sort things out. Listen, we can always go to the counselor, she’s on her night shift right now. We can see if we’re allowed to borrow the school’s laptop for now, how does that sound?”
“I…” you nodded. “Thank you… so much, Alex.”
He turned his head and smiled back. “You never have to thank me for anything,” he turned his heel and waved. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up!”
#alex#willex for the win!!!#THIS IS PLATONIC#alex x reader#alex jatp x reader#julie and the phantoms x reader#jatp x reader#PLATONIC#jatp alex x reader#jatp alex#alex jatp#julie and the phantoms alex#willex#willie x alex#alex x willie#WILLEX WHOOOO#platonic alex x reader
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desert secrets
MJ meets a helpful stranger in the desert that turns out to be more than she hoped for.
7k holy shit lol
warnings: some pretty unrealistic fluff that might get your hopes up that you’ll have a meet-cute with Grayson
***
Shit. Fuck. Fuck. Shit. Shit on a fucking stick. You actual fucking idiot, MJ.
A stream of thoughts along these general lines becomes her stream of conscience as MJ Macias plops down on a large rock, throwing her head back to the sky to bask in the sun and her own general incompetency. Maybe the heat of the desert mountain sun beating on her face will cause her to shrivel up and disintegrate to become lizard food or something — the thought isn’t altogether unwelcome.
Her trip to the middle of nowhere was meant to clear her mind both through exercise in the form of a nice, long hike, as well as simply by being alone amongst nature, under an endless expanse of clouds and stars. The week had been pure hell for her: she had been let go from her dream job at her marketing firm in the latest round of budget-related layoffs; received a ticket from a dickhead cop for going 34 in a 30; and discovered last night that the hot water heater in her apartment had broken. To top it all off, her ex had been harassing her relentlessly over texts and calls, wanting to meet up and ‘talk about things’ since she had dumped him two months ago.
So as she cried hot tears in a frigid shower that morning, thoroughly wallowing in self-pity, an idea popped into her head that was so spontaneous and ridiculous she didn't even try to talk herself out of it: go on a solo camping trip.
MJ really has no idea why this of all the therapeutic outlets available to her was something her brain decided was the right one, since a camper she is not. Sure, she loves being outside in the sun for a good hike, or a swim in the ocean once in a while — nature isn’t the problem. It’s the whole navigating-desert-terrain-alone-and-sleeping-on-the-ground thing that isn’t usually at the top of her list of fun weekend activities. The tent and sleeping bag that she had been forced to purchase for the ridiculous bachelorette party of one of her very outdoorsy friends had called her name as she paced manically around her apartment that morning, though.
Did she have every intent to return them after their one-time use? Absolutely. Did they both end up getting thrown to the back of her storage closet and thus forgotten about until then? Also, yes.
Both her practically nonexistent camping experience and her general lack of enthusiasm for the activity as a whole should have been her first clues at how moronic she was for thinking this is a trip she should (or could) handle alone. But, now determined to have the ultimate self-care weekend, she had: packed a backpack as an overnight bag; tossed it with her shitty little tent and a cooler full of snacks and water in the back of her car; texted her best friend Lainey to sound the alarm if she wasn’t home in 36 hours; and driven away to the first camping ground Google showed her that was at least 100 miles outside of LA. It seemed adventurous and spontaneous an indie movie-esque at the time.
But now, as she sits on this rock, feet and back aching, utterly fucking lost, MJ is starting to feel more like she’s on a self-inflicted episode of Punk’d. Being very directionally challenged, she had been using the maps feature on her phone to find her way back to her campsite after going on a winding, hilly hike, until her phone had suddenly died. The trails have no legible signs so between her use of the GPS, the borderline stalker-ish calls from her ex, and the heat of the sun, she’s left without her lifeline much sooner than she could have anticipated.
She thinks of her backpack and the battery-powered charger in her tent. In a moment of pure rage with herself for being such a lost, ill-prepared dumbass, she wants nothing more than to run back up the mountain and punt the now useless little piece of metal and plastic into the abyss. Her inner drama queen thinks maybe the best thing that could happen is that it will fall on a mountain lion, which will devour her out of anger before she shrivels up into lizard food, and put her out of her misery early.
MJ rolls her eyes at how ridiculous she’s being, and forces herself to take a deep breath and think. Her inner antics really do bring up an actually pressing issue. There are plenty of animals out here that don’t need any iPhone provocation to attack, and she’s only armed with a half-empty HydroFlask and a sparkly purple tube of pepper spray. Not to mention, judging from the incurring pinkness of the sky, the sun is going to set soon, and with that means it’ll be getting cold as well. She looks down at her thin Lulu Lemon tank top and shorts.
Fuuuck.
Knowing she has to make a decision, MJ doesn’t second guess herself when her feet heave her body off of her rock and set off further down the trail. Her only hopes at this point are to either miraculously stumble upon her camp before dark, or pray that she runs into fellow campers that might have a portable charger and that also aren’t serial killers. The only people she had passed on her hike had been a middle-aged couple and a woman maybe a little older than herself with a dog, but she couldn't have any idea if they were staying on the campgrounds or merely taking a day trip. Like she should have done.
MJ walks down the trail a solid 20 minutes, and wonders where the hell she had actually gone on her hike to be so far out from her own campsite. Inexperience with the outdoors had made her assume all the trails met up in a circle, but clearly that isn’t the case here. She’s already out of the hiking trail and in one of the areas designated for camping, but there are a couple of those around the park and she has no clue which one she had chosen.
Trying and failing to keep the creeping worry out of her spine as a few clouds turn orange and the noises of the nocturnal wildlife start up, she picks up her pace.
She’s about to resign herself to huddling in an unoccupied camping spot for the night when she suddenly sees flumes of smoke about a football field away. The Hallelujah chorus fills her head, and she mumbles out a quick ‘thank you’ to whoever is listening as she practically speed-walks to her impending safety.
The smell of the crackling wood draws her nearer and nearer. When she finally rounds the corner, she’s surprised and disappointed to see that while there is indeed a small fire burning, as well as a deconstructed tent piled on the ground, the occupant of the campsite is nowhere to be found. MJ hesitates and looks around for any sign of them, not foreseeing this issue. Should she wait around like a creep? Keep walking and hope to run into them?
“Can I help you?”
MJ startles out of her skin and lets out an embarrassing little squeak. She whips around and is thoroughly unprepared to see what just might be the hottest guy she’s ever had the pleasure of laying her eyes on in real life. Judging from her own height, he’s maybe six foot or a tad over; his thick arms are laden with a bulky backpack and a sleeping bag, and his dark hazel eyes observe her warily behind a flop of dark wavy hair.
“Uh,” she begins stupidly, slightly stunned by both his sudden appearance and his masculine beauty. “Yeah, um, I’m so sorry to intrude on your space but, I, you know, got a little confused on the trails and, uh…”
He raises a naturally arched eyebrow expectantly as she pauses and stumbles over her words. MJ looks at him, then releases a huge breath she hadn't even realized had been held in her chest until this moment, officially giving up on not sounding like a complete and total idiot.
“I’m fucking lost. I have a terrible sense of direction and was using a map online of the trails to find the pin I dropped on my campsite, but my phone died. Is there any chance you have a portable charger I can use for, like, twenty minutes?”
The guy chuckles, and despite her pure mortification at the situation, MJ cracks a smile too, glad to see he isn’t pissed at her for lurking around his campsite like the actual weirdo she is. Unfortunately for her, though, his crooked grin somehow makes him even more attractive, which doesn’t bode well for her already inevitable awkwardness.
“Uh, yeah, I have my Mophie in here somewhere,” he says, indicating the backpack in his arms. He nods his head in the direction of his campsite where there is a large stone clearly put there by park officials as a makeshift bench. “Come on over and I’ll find it.”
“Thank you,” MJ sighs in relief. She follows him through the gap in the log threshold, and when he drops the items he’s carrying on the ground, she gapes; holy shit, the man is built. She could tell he had pythons for arms, but the stuffed backpack and sleeping bag had hidden the way his plain white t-shirt stretches taut over every solid, muscled crevice of his torso.
She shakes her head and hopes he can’t sense her obvious stare that has since traveled from the breadth of his shoulders, down his tapered waist, settled on his ass, and finished on the multitude of tattoos decorating his legs as he walks in front of her. MJ finds every one of these aspects of him immensely appealing; she’s never felt so viscerally attracted to a complete stranger in her entire life.
MJ settles on the rock and, sensing some of the aforementioned awkwardness about to settle in the air, searches her brain for a way to alleviate it. She knows she’ll only be here a short amount of time, but she feels compelled to get to know him even just a little bit. And to not make a complete fool of herself, if possible.
“What’s your name?” she asks. That’s a safe place to start. She hugs her knees to her chest as she watches him arrange the stuff he had just dropped into a neater pile.
“Grayson,” he replies. Grayson crouches down to dig through his backpack and flashes her a friendly, blinding smile over his shoulder. “Yours?”
As if she couldn’t embarrass herself any more, she feels a flush rise to her cheeks. For fucks sake, she isn’t 16 talking to her high school crush — she’s a grown woman who has been with plenty of guys and knows how to have a simple conversation with one, no matter how hot they are.
“MJ,” she finally manages to get out.
“MJ,” he repeats, testing it on his tongue, nodding approvingly. “That’s cool. I don't think I’ve ever met a girl with that kind of name. What does it stand for?”
He stands and turns to face her. He extends the little black charger to her and MJ looks up at him through her lashes as he towers over her, biting her lip. Flirting isn’t her strong suit whatsoever, but she can’t help trying; it’s not like she’s going to see him again by the time the sun sets.
“It’s a secret,” she answers after a brief moment, taking the Mophie from Grayson and accidentally-on-purpose brushing the tips of her fingers against the back of his. “Thanks.”
Grayson raises his eyebrows, but a humored grin graces his full lips. “Okay,” he says, surprising her by taking a seat next to her as she plugs in her phone. “But who better to spill your secrets to than a total stranger, you know?”
MJ can’t help the giggle that escapes her throat, humored more by the fact that he seems to be having the same idea of fuck it, we won’t ever see each other again, as her, than his actual question. His nearness should make her uncomfortable, but it just…doesn’t; he’s close enough for her to smell his scent emanating from his warm body. Clean, like laundry and soap, but also hints of an earthy, masculine cologne and an admittedly enticing musk from being in the sun. She wants to lean in and inhale him.
God, she hopes she isn’t coming off as insane as she feels inside. What is wrong with her? He’s just a guy. A guy whose close proximity as a stranger should be making her feel intimidated rather than buzzing with electricity.
“You’re very right,” she says, leaning back on her hands to appear more relaxed. “If I die out here in the wilderness, killed by my own stupidity, I wouldn't want the last person to see me alive not know my real name.”
Grayson throws his head back and laughs, and it draws one from herself as well. She likes his laugh because despite the deep timbre of his voice, the sound is carefree and boyish.
“It’s Makenna Jean,” she finally admits once they both quiet down. “I’m named after my grandmothers, but my mom didn't like your typical shortenings people might automatically give to Makenna — you know, Mack, Ken, Kenna, all those. So she just started calling me MJ to avoid it all, and…that’s me, MJ.”
He nods in understanding. “Gotcha.”
They continue effortless conversation for a while, words and laughter flowing freely from their lips with an ease that MJ hasn’t experienced in years. In the first lull, though, MJ fills it with a sigh and extends her long legs to stretch them as they tire from being folded so closely to her body, flexing and pointing her toes. She knows her shorts are a little too short, her tank top a little low cut, even with a sports bra on. It’s another one of those accidentally-on-purpose moves that starts as inadvertent in the way it exposes and elongates her body, but ends in her relishing the way his eyes quickly dart across her form. She’s reticent to admit that she isn’t mad about it. Not even a little.
She ducks her head and bites her lip to hide a triumphant smirk as Grayson clears his throat and runs a hand through his hair. “So, are you out here by yourself?”
For the first time since she met him, a little swoop of nerves unrelated to her attraction to him passes through the pit of her stomach. She feels like she’s always had a spot-on instinct for determining someone’s ‘vibes’, and Grayson has only given her good ones since the minute she saw him. Maybe she’s fallen victim to the Ted Bundy effect, though…
He seems to pick up on her hesitation, and Grayson slaps his palm to his forehead, squeezing his eyes shut. “Fuck, sorry, that was so creepy. I didn't mean it like that, I was just, uh, making conversation.” He opens his eyes and rubs his forehead and, to her shock, is he blushing now? “I promise I’m not a murderer.”
She might have still been weirded out by a guy even putting the word out there in this situation, but her gut is telling her that Grayson is harmless, and she prides herself on being a pretty good judge of character.
“It’s okay,” she says, giving him a serious look. “I promise I’m not either. But you should know that I’m packing heat with a fully loaded can of mace and my best white belt skills from the karate classes my mom made me take in 4th grade.”
Grayson gives her a disbelieving look. “Fourth grade karate, huh?”
“Yep. For real, I’ll karate chop your arm off if you try anything sketch.”
“Try,” he challenges with a beautiful, dangerous smile, leaning in ever so slightly and looking her dead in the eye. It takes her breath away a little bit. “I dare you.”
MJ scoffs, still keeping up this facade that she isn’t fighting every primal urge to mount him, especially with the unmistakeable tinge of flirtation in his last words.
“Fine,” she accepts. Grayson grins wider and leans back, offering her his right arm. “Get ready.”
“Oh, I am.”
She lines her hand up with the dip in his muscles between his shoulder and the top of his bicep, rears it back, and —
“Ow!”
The side of her hand simply bounces off of the solid mass of his bulging arm. Grayson does that head-back belly laugh again and she pretends to pout as she rubs her sore hand. “That hurt way more than it should have!” she exclaims. “What are you, Superman?”
Grayson, still laughing, grabs her hand in his and strokes it rather tenderly considering the sheer size of his palm compared to hers. And it’s so cliche, but MJ swears she feels tingles where their skin connects.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he says, biting his lip in an attempt to contain himself. “It’s just, in the least misogynistic way possible, that was high-key cute.”
“Hmph.” MJ scrunches her nose at him as her heart drops to her stomach in the best, scariest way.
Uh oh. He's a stranger, MJ; you’ve known him for half an hour, MJ; you’re in the middle of nowhere, MJ — you can’t catch feelings for a stranger you’ve know for half an hour in the middle of nowhere, MJ…
She clears her throat and gives his hand a slight squeeze before extracting it from his grip, hoping that conveys that she doesn’t disapprove of his touch. But the sun is well on it’s way to setting, and she does need to check her phone battery. It’s at 28%, not as much as she hoped for but probably enough to do the trick.
Shit. MJ really, really doesn’t want to leave him, but she can’t exactly invite herself to stay longer. She had already kept him from building his tent, and his fire is starting to die as well. She turns back to face him only to find his eyes trained on her, brow slightly scrunched. Her belly swoops again.
“I should, ah, probably get going,” MJ admits quietly, fidgeting with her fingers. A shiver runs down her spine and goosebumps raise themselves up the skin of her arms, too, as the setting sun steadily lowers the temperature around them. She crosses her arms across her chest, partly for warmth and partly to hide her stiffened nipples that peak through her thin sports bra and tank. “Or I really will kill myself out here in the dark by walking off a cliff or something.”
Grayson smiles woefully and lets out a little huff, ducking his gaze down for a moment and picking at a thread on his shorts. “Yeah, I understand.”
Is it her imagination or does he sound…disappointed?
When he looks back up at her, the sudden intensity of his gaze makes her swallow thickly. She wants so badly to ask for his number, his Instagram, his last name, but it all seems too weird given the circumstances and the amount of time (or lack thereof) they’ve spent together. Besides, she thinks, she’s still dealing with a psycho ex amongst the rest of her life falling apart, and doesn’t need any more boy problems in her already crazy-stressful life.
MJ stands and dusts off the back of her shorts. “Thank you, Grayson, seriously. You really did save my ass,” she says with a sad smile.
“Of course,” he replies, standing with her.
She unplugs her phone and pulls up both maps before setting off down the trail with one last wave at the gorgeous, sweet man she’s so reluctantly leaving behind.
“MJ, wait!”
She stops in her tracks, black Nikes skidding in the loose, sandy dirt. Turning around in time to see Grayson dig his hands in the backpack to fish out a sweatshirt and flashlight, her heart lifts when he starts jogging toward her. Despite her elation, however, she looks up at him confusedly.
“I’ve actually been to this place a few times, so I’m pretty familiar with the trails and campgrounds. I would feel a lot better if I walked you to your tent. Not that you need a man to help you anywhere or…whatever, but yeah, only if you want —”
“Grayson,” she interrupts, touching a slim hand to his forearm. She smiles, endeared at how flustered he’s getting. He runs a hand through his hair again. Is this him wanting to spend more time with her, or him simply being a gentleman? “I really do appreciate it, but I’ve already kept you from setting up your own camp. I couldn't ask you to walk me all the way to BFE and risk you coming back alone in the dark.”
Grayson shakes his head. “I swear, it’s fine. I’ve got a flashlight.” He clicks it on and shines it under his chin, illuminating his head in typical campfire story-time style, and makes a face at her. MJ giggles. “And you can’t be too far from here; there are only two main campgrounds and they’re less than a mile apart from each other, so I should make it back before dark one way or the other.”
A shiver from the cold overtakes her body suddenly. “Oh, here,” he adds, extending the purple hoodie to her. She starts to protest, but he shakes his head and holds it at her more insistently. “I know you’re cold.”
MJ flushes, but takes the soft garment from him gratefully. “I never said I was cold,” she remarks as she shoves her arms in the sleeves and slips it over her head. It practically swallows her, but it smells just like the laundry/cologne scent she had picked up earlier, only more concentrated and delicious.
Grayson eyes her up and down slowly, grinning. “I’m observant,” he says teasingly.
MJ raises her brows at him amusedly. Again, she should be creeped out, but there’s something about him that sends all potential red flags out the window.
“And I might not be done sharing secrets with you,” he adds quietly, smiling the softest, sexiest smile she’s ever seen and utilizing the ultimate puppy-dog eyes. “Please?”
Well, twist my arm, MJ thinks sarcastically. “Okay,” she says without hesitation now, her insides jittering with a strange mixture of happiness and nerves. He beams at her and jerks his head in indication for them to continue down the trail.
“So, you never said what you’re doing out here by yourself,” Grayson prompts, nudging her with his elbow.
MJ shakes her head and smiles up at him. “Nuh-uh. Not only is that a sob story no one wants to hear, it’s definitely your turn to share. So I could ask you what you’re doing out here by yourself?”
Grayson shrugs as if to say ‘fair enough.’ “I’m not, actually. I’m with my brother and his girlfriend because she wanted to camp, but my brother doesn’t know shit about it. I only came under the agreement that there was going to be no funny business while I was around, only to come back from getting firewood to find them going at it, so I chose to remove myself from the situation. They’re still at our original campsite further down the trail. I needed to make sure I was far enough away to not hear anything.”
MJ sucks in a sympathetic breath through her teeth. “Ooh, yeah, there’s nothing worse than being the third wheel, especially when you have nowhere to escape.”
“Exactly!” he exclaims, turning to her with his hands raised. “Thank you! Ethan told me I was being dramatic, but it definitely sucks. He’s been with her long enough now, I think he’s forgotten what it’s like to be the lonesome outsider.”
This is the perfect segue for the question, but it gets stuck in her throat. Come on, MJ, grown woman, remember? She’s sure she already knows the answer based on what he had just said, but it never hurts to check.
“So…you don’t have a girlfriend?”
“Nope.” She glances up at him to find him staring straight ahead with that lopsided, boyish grin. He looks back down at her and reciprocates the question. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
“Nope.” MJ is mortified to hear it come out as a whisper. She clears her throat and diverts her gaze to the sunset. She had literally, quite literally, just met this man — he should not have this kind of effect on her.
Just then, her phone buzzes, and she’s infuriated to see the deleted number of her ex pop up on the screen. She groans in frustration. “But it’s not for my idiot ex’s lack of trying to get back together,” she complains, wiggling the phone and sending it straight to voicemail.
“I’m sorry,” Grayson says, shaking his head understandingly. “I’ve definitely been there. How long have you been broken up?”
MJ swipes the voicemail notification away and rolls her eyes. “Over two months. We weren't super serious and it wasn't a crazy bad breakup or anything, we were just in different places, and I’m not one to be in a relationship just for the sake of it. Especially if I’m not feeling any aspect of it. I didn't hear a word from him the first month or so, but he’s acting like we were soulmates who had some tragic ending, calling and texting me nonstop the last couple of weeks.”
Grayson shrugs. “Sounds like he’s just realizing what he missed out on,” he says, grinning. MJ’s breath catches in her throat and she rolls her eyes again embarrassedly with a smile, flushing pink yet again. “Why don’t you block him?”
She sighs. “I probably will. I don't like to burn bridges like that unless someone really does me wrong, but it’s getting ridiculous at this point.”
Grayson nods. “I’m not just saying this, but I feel the exact same way. And about what you said with being in a relationship just to be in one. Like…” he ruffles the back of his hair, something she now detects as a tell for when he's uncomfortable. “Ok, like, this sounds so ugly and conceited, but if I really wanted to be with someone, I could. Ethan and I do social media for a living and we have a decent following, so it’s not a lack of girls, but that’s not me. Maybe when I was a little younger, but…yeah, not now.”
Wow. What does that mean, a decent following? Her job requires her to know the ins and outs of the social media side of marketing, but she isn’t super invested in it for herself entertainment-wise. Mainly, she’s active on Snapchat with her friends and just occasionally uses Insta, so with the knowledge of the spectrum of social media followings, that could really be any number in her book. “So you’re, like, an Instagram model or something?”
He chuckles. “No, no. We make YouTube videos mostly. We’re identical twins so a lot of them are stupid things based on that — challenges and skits and stuff. It’s pretty chill. We’re starting to dabble in documentary-style projects, too.”
MJ gawks at him playfully, though she is actually surprised by his admission. “There are two of you?!” she gasps.
Grayson gapes back at her jokingly. “Technically, yes. He’s my absolute best friend in the entire world and, like I said, we’re identical, but half the time we really couldn’t be more opposite if we tried. I’ll show you our channel later, if you want, and you’ll see.”
“Hmm,” MJ hums, catching her lip with her teeth briefly. “Well I’m sure Ethan is great, but I’m glad I met you, then.”
He bumps her with his hip. “Are you saying you like me?”
MJ rolls her eyes good-naturedly at the teasing lilt to his voice and hopes that the light is low enough that he can’t see the seemingly permanent tint to her cheeks. “Since we’re sharing secrets…maybe. Yes.”
“I like you, too,” he replies, just as quietly. She picks up a barely-detectable lisp on the ’t’ and the East Coast lilt on the ‘oo.’ It’s adorable.
Her heart flutters.
They walk steadily a few more feet in silence, when suddenly she feels his hand brush hers gently. She assumes it was accidental until it happens again, only this time there’s more assertiveness in the movement, clearly indicating what he’s trying to do. Her heart jumps in her throat as she gladly lets his palm dwarf her own as he takes her hand in his. They happen to both glance at each other, only to duck their heads simultaneously, each attempting to hide giddy smiles.
“Ah, so, secrets,” MJ says to break the silence that’s thick with the best kind of tension. “How old are you?”
There’s a beat of silence. “Old enough…almost,” he answers cryptically, side-eyeing her.
His reply actually makes MJ stop in her tracks, and she’s jerked a bit by their joined hands as he continues moving. “What?” she asks incredulously.
Grayson laughs heartily and squeezes her palm, melting her insides a bit. He’s clearly pleased with himself at catching her so off-guard. “I’m kidding. I mean, I am legal, but people tend to think I’m older than I am.” He observes her standing there, waiting for his answer, and finally relents. “I’m 20.”
MJ shakes her head, stunned. “Shut the fuck up!” she exclaims. “Twenty?! Dude, yeah, no kidding people think you’re older. I definitely did.”
He tugs on her hand to keep her walking, and MJ obeys dutifully, still amazed at yet another shocking disclosure. “Is that an issue?”
She shrugs; she feels like it should be, but he doesn’t look or act 20 at all. But also…an issue for what? They literally just met. And she should only be thinking of being friends; she can be friends with a 20 year-old.
That thought doesn’t stop her from answering, though, because time factor aside, something is happening between them. Something more than friends, if she’s letting herself be honest. “I guess it’s only an issue if it affects maturity, but that doesn't seem to be a problem here that I can tell.”
Grayson squeezes her hand again, and a shot of sparks zings up her arm this time. “Good. Now, are you gonna make me ask, or are you gonna tell me how old you are?”
MJ groans. Twenty. She’s basically a dinosaur compared to that. “God, I don’t even want to say now. I’m 24,” she admits.
“What’s wrong with that?” Grayson asks with a chuckle.
“Because…” How do you explain to a young, hot 20 year-old man that every year that you creep closer to 25 only means one year closer to the downhill to 30? “I don’t know. Sometimes I feel old. And stuck. Especially lately. And you seem like this super young, super successful guy. It’s a little intimidating.”
Grayson is quiet for a moment. “If there’s anything I know, it’s not to judge your path based on other’s. If you’re feeling stuck, something will happen that gets you unstuck. Age has nothing to do with that.”
His answer catches MJ by surprise in its sincerity and maturity and thoughtfulness. Before she can form an answer, they pass what must be his brother’s tent. She has to hush her fit of laughter into her free hand when Grayson makes a disgusted little noise and flips off the dark red canvas that is, indeed, rustling suspiciously.
From there on they share anything and everything about each other, with each other. Against her word from earlier, she tells him about losing her job and her other woes from the week; he briefly opens up that he had lost his dad a little over a year ago and is still coping with it. This shocks her a bit, but his openness leads her to sympathize with him by sharing how her mom had passed away in a car accident when she was 15. By the time they reach the next campground, their fingers are completely intertwined and she’s leaning her head on his shoulder, his smell enveloping her completely from both his shirt sleeve and the collar of the hoodie. MJ has truly never felt more connected to a man on this level, and it’s both exciting and terrifying.
They aren’t even to her tent yet and she already doesn’t want him to go.
“Should be just around this corner,” Grayson says, squinting at her phone before concentrating on the trail again.
Sure enough, the next turn reveals her campsite, complete with the tent she had miraculously managed to construct herself and her cooler propped next to the same rock-bench that they had sat on at Grayson’s camp.
Her free hand clenches around his elbow. “Yep, here it is,” she says.
They stop and stand to face one another. “Thanks again, Grayson,” she tells him sincerely. “I didn't really know what the hell I was doing coming out here. In more ways than one, obviously.” This earns her a smile and — God, as if her heart could feel any more sappy in that moment — he brings their clasped hands to his lips to kiss the back of her palm. “But in the hour that I’ve known you I think you’ve helped me take my mind off things more than anyone else back home could have. So…thank you.”
“Of course, MJ,” he says quietly. “I could say the same. I rarely talk about my dad with anyone besides Ethan, let alone someone I just met.” Her heart warms at his confession, and a heated moment of quiet and intense eye contact passes between them before he breaks it. “Come on, I’ll help you start a fire.”
She nods, and they release their grasps on one another to gather sticks and dry brush at his suggestion.
“You know,” he says as he leans over the fire pit that’s now filled with their findings with her lighter, breaking the short silence, “I was going to spend the night alone since E was clearly pretty busy. I don't think he would miss me if I stayed for a bit. To keep telling secrets. If you want, that is.”
MJ swallows. What the hell is this night? She’s pretty sure sad, lost girls meeting and mutually falling for beautiful, polite, genuinely funny boys in the desert is something that only happens in the likes of cheesy Meg Cabot novels. Yet, here she is, living out her nerdy 16 year-old fantasies in real life somehow.
“Yes. I want you,” she murmurs finally, and though she doesn’t mean for it to come out as a bit of an entendre, she doesn’t regret her wording; even in the low light of the late sunset, she can see his eyes darken. “Won’t he notice eventually, though, if you stay gone for very long? And it’s getting dark…”
“If I can borrow your phone, I can text him,” he explains. “I don't have any service but you do somehow. I guarantee he’ll use the wifi in our car to check his phone before he goes to bed, so he’ll get it eventually.”
She nods and unlocks her phone for him. “How do you have service out here, actually?” he asks as he types out a new message.
“My brother,” she answers, entranced by the way his thick fingers fly across the keyboard of her phone. “Being a firefighter, he gets to be on this plan for first responders where he gets first access to a bigger network in case he’s in the middle of nowhere on a call or in a crowd during an emergency or something. I was able to sign on with his account and get all the benefits of it.”
Grayson looks up at her, surprised, and smirks when he hands her phone back to her. “Wow, a firefighter? So he could probably kick my ass if he wanted, huh?”
MJ laughs. “Normally I would say yes, but somehow I think you've got a solid 20 pounds of muscle on him, even though he's a little taller than you,” she admits.
She finally can’t resist anymore and runs her right hand over a bicep that is truly bulging right beneath the edge of his shirt sleeve, and allows herself to take in unabashedly the way the fabric stretches across his wide shoulders, his defined pecs…fuck, he’s sexy.
He swallows hard and she looks up at him. For the second time that night, the intensity of his gaze stuns her into silence and stillness.
When he ducks his head to meet her lips with his, however, her insides are screaming and the hand not clutching his arm travels to grip the front of his shirt, then the short hairs at the back of his neck.
More cliches, but it’s a perfect first kiss — soft but intense, not too much tongue but just enough as it deepens. MJ sighs into his mouth, deciding she would be perfectly content to do this with him forever despite the fire now lit within her at his touch that has her body begging for more.
It could have been a few seconds or a few hours that they stand there entwined with one another, but eventually they part, eyes closed and breaths panting heavily in the minimal space between them. The longer she isn’t distracted by his lips, the longer she stands there trying not to overthink things.
But the beauty of what this trip has been — what Grayson has been — for her is that it was the opposite of overthinking; it was instinctual, impulsive, and honest. In short, her motto had been ‘fuck it.’
Her green eyes open and lift to his hazel ones. “Grayson,” she whispers, “we’re telling secrets tonight, right?”
“Right,” he replies just as breathlessly.
She swallows past a small lump as an inexplicable rush of emotion hits her.
Fuck it.
MJ’s hands cup his angular jaw and she forces herself to keep eye contact with him. She takes a deep breath. “Look, I’m not into drama and feelings and fairytale shit. But I like you. I really like you, way more than I should considering we’re basically strangers, which fucking scares me. And even though I barely know you, I trust you for some reason. I just…need you to tell me if you feel kind of the same, or if this is starting to feel like too much now that I’m putting my thoughts out there. Because my gut is telling me this is mutual, but we can both walk away now and write it off as a crazy, whirlwind thing in the desert. I go in my tent, you go in yours, and we never see each other again.”
Her words come out in a rush, her last sentence almost painfully so. She also suddenly considers the idea that maybe he’s only using her as a fun story to tell his friends about, the pretty girl he met in the desert, wooed by his charm and good looks into her tent, only to be ghosted by him the next day.
Maybe the uncertainty in her life is leading her to be too impulsive with her wants and desires right now.
Maybe she’s starting to overthink things.
Grayson catches his lower lip with his teeth and mimics the position of her hands with his own. His thumbs brush the ridges of her mandible and his long fingers overlap at the back of her neck, scratching lightly. Despite herself, she could have purred at the sensation, almost does when it’s combined with that of his lips brushing hers tenderly.
“MJ,” he says lowly, resting his forehead against hers. “I’m not a fuckboy, I promise; like I said earlier, if all I wanted was a warm body beside me, I could have that in a second. What’s so hard for me is to find someone who's not after clout or money or anything that comes along with being in the social media space. Almost every girl I’ve talked to in the last couple of years has been attracted to one of those aspects of my life, not me. Once I find that out, no matter what they look like, I’m never interested in being in the same room as them, let alone in a relationship with them. I can tell you don't give a shit about any of that, and I love it. I love how funny, genuine, and kind you are. I love how naturally, absolutely gorgeous you are. That’s what I look for, that’s all I go for, and you’re all of it.”
Holy fuck, how is this guy real? It’s like he could read her mind. Her thumb tugs on his lower lip and he takes that as his cue to kiss her thoroughly again.
“Promise me now, then,” she huffs when they break apart, “no matter what happens tonight, we try to stay friends, at least, tomorrow.”
“Deal,” he agrees with a grin.
MJ bites her lip and smirks up at him. “How about we, uh, keep sharing secrets in my tent?”
Grayson raises his brow, his smile widening. “It is getting a little chilly out here.”
#this might have originally been written w smut#but i wasn't sure if i wanted it to be official#should i post it as like a continuation?#hmm#dolan twins#grayson dolan#grayson dolan smut#grayson dolan fic#grayson dolan oc#grayson mj
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Egotober Day 28: Phantoms of the Old World
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31
Prompt: Fear
Summary: In an undisclosed location there is a vault where a powerful group keeps “troublesome” relics. Nate and Mare have to go in, and play a little game of pretend. If they play their cards right, Nate gets to walk back out with Mare. If they don’t, they’re both in quite a bit of trouble. But there is more to fear than hooded figures and hard-to-find places. Things that time is trying to bury and forget . . . the phantoms of the old world.
A/N: Birthday post for Mare.
Warnings: none
They had been in the car for a long time, and normally Nate wouldn’t have minded. If this was an ordinary car trip he was forced to sit passenger on, he would have been on his phone, or writing another song or cover.
But this was no ordinary car trip. He was out in the middle of what he thought was the desert, interrupted from his tour, but promised he’d meet up with them at the next stop, with a black bag over his head to block out the possibility of him seeing where he was going. The only positive was that he was allowed music to keep him and Mare from going insane.
And that was part of the problem, Mare was with him. Normally he would have let Mare slip away, pretend they didn’t know each other and Nate would sit and be fine.
However Nate and Mare had to play of game of pretend. They had to pretend that Nate was completely in control of Mare. That Mare couldn’t and didn’t get away from him. Pretend that there wasn’t a slowly but surely founded bond of trust between the two of them.
Around Nate’s neck was a necklace with a fake metal key dangling around it. In the head was a large amethyst that seemed to faintly glow. Mare was inside the necklace, hiding and trying not to look like he could get out if he casually stretched.
They had to sell this perfectly. So far Mare had already passed a couple tests before Nate had gotten into the car, and things seemed to be going alright.
But now it was dark and the car’s heater was almost silently going in the background. All Nate could do was hope and pray that Mare didn’t go completely crazy in boredom. He didn’t want Mare taken away, Nate liked Mare. The demon wasn’t half as bad as Anti and nowhere near as devious as Dark.
But to this group a demon was a demon, and they would believe Nate had been taken over. So they couldn’t afford to mess this up.
Mercifully the car stopped and the bag came off.
Nate blinked in disorientation, taking his ear buds out. “We here?”
“Yeah,” the driver got out as the guy next to Nate opened the car door.
“This gonna take long? I’ve got a tour to get back to,” Nate got out, putting his phone in his pocket and taking out his head phones.
“Shouldn’t take more than a half-an-hour,” the driver promised.
There was what looked like a decommissioned aircraft hangar surrounded by a gated fence, runes and protection seals all over the place. It wasn’t meant to keep humans out, that’s what the desert was for, it was to keep out other dangerous creatures.
Nate was greeted by five people in robes, “Ahh, Young Nathan, we hoped you’d join us properly. Make sure you leave that thing in the vault and get changed. We have a lot to talk about.”
“I still have a concert to get back to and I’m not done using his aura,” Nate pretended to be a lot colder towards Mare than he ever had been, but he still took off the necklace. Mare tried to be as still as possible as he was placed inside an ornate but non-magical box.
He could still hear the conversation as he was slowly taken away.
“And I’m not wearing those robes, you all look like cultists,” Nate refused.
“We’re not cultists,” the leader insisted, as they got farther away and Mare fought the urge to rush to Nate’s side. Nate wasn’t extremely magically inclined like Dark’s host or Marvin. He had a nice voice and was sensitive to magic, but otherwise defenseless against those who wanted to harm him.
But Mare had to trust Nate, that he knew these people, that they only wanted to harm Mare if he showed he couldn’t be contained.
A gnawing unease that felt worse when he was taken into a room and could feel other twisted, tormented souls inside the room. Locked and sealed inside of various objects. Because Mare wasn’t locked inside the necklace, he could sense around the room. There was a sealed book holding a demon that wouldn’t stop screaming. A music box with a banshee locked inside. A mask. A couple more necklaces each with a demon inside the centerpiece gemstone. A statue with a weeping demon.
But at the other side of the room, locked inside of a glass case, tethered onto place with chains and papers written with all kinds of rooms was a black cane, the pommel head of the cane was a three talon claws hand holding a clear gem.
And the demon inside that cane . . . it was staring at him.
Mare didn’t want to be in here, he could feel the screams of other demons and spirits trapped in this room. It was like if you stuck a human and people locked that person into a room with the sick and dying, and then closed the door behind them.
“Well,” a voice rumbled out and the other demons immediately fell silent. “That’s not fair.”
The other demons seemed to echo the one in the cane, with almost a mad fervor.
“Not fair . . .”
“Not fair . . .”
“Not fair . . .”
“Not fair . . .”
“Not fair . . .”
“Enough!” The demon called out and they immediately fell silent. “You have a name?”
“Oh, I don’t trust you,” Mare defended.
Mare could almost hear the smile when the demon asked, “So you’re not an idiot? How about this: you help get me out, and I don’t tell them you’re not under your host’s thumb?”
Mare felt a tight coil in his soul, “I’ll see what I can do.”
“The longer I wait little parrot, the more impatient I get,” the demon warned.
“Okay, okay,” Mare allowed. “I got it.”
Then the door opened and Mare went quiet. Mare didn’t think any real time had passed, but that might have been the droning of tortured souls warping his perception of time. His box was picked up and removed and in a minute or two the box was opened and Mare felt relief wash over him as Nate put the necklace back on.
“I’ll definitely keep an eye on the situation,” Nate promised the leader. “Figure out of it’s really them.”
“I’d like to know how bad the situation is,” they told Nate. “Make sure you tell us if the demon you have becomes unmanageable.”
“Of course,” Nate agreed, “safety first.”
Mare did his best to stay quiet and still, Nate had his head covered, but this time it was just Nate and the driver.
When the driver was concentrating on the road, Mare clung to Nate’s neck.
“Hey, buddy, calm down,” Nate whispered as quietly as he could.
Mare felt like a coiled spring, waiting for everything to fall through. But to Mare’s relief they rendezvoused back with the tour group and Mare flew out of the necklace the instant the van started driving away.
“Hey, come on, you don’t have to go back for a while,” Nate promised, everything’s okay.”
“They’ve got an evil bastard in there,” Mare warned. “He just threatened to expose us.”
“Okay, you tell me and I tell you,” Nate told him.
“We were in assfuck north Arizona,” Mare reported.
“Alright,” Nate nodded. “They don’t suspect anything right now, so we’ve got sometime. Which demon was it?”
“He was in a cane, that fucker had the whole cell under his thumb,” Mare warned.
“Shit, okay,” Nate swore, his hand forming a claw. “Did the top have a claw and a marble in the claw.”
“Yes.”
“Dammit!” Nate yelled. “M’Kay, we can’t free him, that fucker needs to stay in his cage. We’ll think of something. We’ll do the tour and think of something.”
“Do I have to go back in the necklace?” Mare asked with a little bit of trepidation.
“No, there’s some hot wings in the kitchen unit,” Nate offered. “Have fun, buddy.”
“Sweet,” Mare let out his first smile he’d given Nate since he told Mare about the necklace trick.
“Make sure you save some for everyone else,” Nate told him, smiling back at Mare.
“Maybe if I feel like it,” Mare scoffed, still smiling.
The demon slipped through the door, Nate’s smile lingered a bit as he looked at the door. Then Nate turned back to the camera he had taken from the Sides, currently it was tied down with rope and spell tape. “Okay, now back to work.”
#Superhero AU#Masks and Maladies#Egotober2020#Natewantstobattle#Natemare#Mare#Phantom#blackmail#cursed objects#birthday post
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Falling asleep
(Haymitch and Effie each decide to never fall asleep together, until one night it happens. Warnings: NSFW, sexual content, trauma)
Haymitch never slept without a knife, and he never slept with women. He fucked them sometimes. But he never allowed himself to fall asleep afterwards.
He had done that once, a lifetime ago, with a woman who’d requested him six months after the second Quarter Quell. His stitches had been removed and his scars hardened, but the pain in his gut hadn’t gone away. His mind, heart, and spirit were all numb. He’d fucked that woman with gritted teeth and closed eyelids. He did it to stay alive. President Snow didn’t give him a choice.
Haymitch was 17 years old then.
He’d woken up early the next morning to the sound of her wheezing and gasping for breath as she shoved at his face. He was on top of her with his hands gripping her throat.
He let go in horror and rolled off of her, falling onto the hotel room floor. His cheekbone hit the floorboards, and he froze. The wood grain swirled in front of his eyes. He closed them to keep from throwing up, but he threw up anyway. And still he couldn’t move. “I’m sorry,” he managed to say.
With his ears ringing, he couldn’t hear her reply, but he felt her spit on the back of his neck as she stormed out and slammed the door.
Snow didn’t prostitute Haymitch out after that. The boy was too much of a liability, and maybe Snow figured he’d broken him enough, killing his family and his girlfriend after the stunt he’d pulled with the force field and the axe. Perhaps that night with the woman had been a test of his brokenness.
Fast-forward 30 years, and Effie still didn’t know the whole truth about why Haymitch never stayed the night without her having to ask him to leave. She nudged men out the door for her own reasons. Sleep dissolved the mask she wore, and she didn’t like to be unmasked. Being herself felt vulnerable. She hardly even knew who she was underneath the layers of ostentatiousness she’d worn since her earliest memories.
Pink had been her signature color as a girl: dresses, bows, patent leather shoes, body glitter. Wigs weren’t as much the fashion in those days, especially among the Capitol children, but her mother spun ribbons like cotton candy into Effie’s blonde hair. “You must always look your best, my darling. Nothing less than the best for my girl,” she said as she added finishing touches, pinching Effie’s cheeks hard for longer-lasting color. Then she sent her off to school.
Effie was 8 years old then.
She only had two life-long memories from the second Quarter Quell. She remembered the candy pink birds who pecked the throat of that District 12 girl, Maysilee, and she remembered Haymitch holding Maysliee’s hand long after the cannon boom signaled her death.
Effie had never spoken with him about it, even the year that they’d sat side-by-side in the Tribute Center as the scene replayed among The Hunger Games highlights and greatest hits.
The birds had tainted the feeling of candy pink for Effie, but her mother still insisted she wear it. For years after that, when Effie had nightmares, they were always the same — candy pink birds pecking her throat.
She and Haymitch had never spoken about each other’s nightmares. She knew he had them. The walls of the sleeping compartments on the train were thin enough to hear his screams. She wondered if he knew she had them too.
“Nightmares are ghastly things,” her mother had said, “Well-bred ladies don’t discuss them.” So they just became something else for Effie to wall off with her plastered face, hair, clothing, and attitude.
Effie and Haymitch never spoke with full intimacy. They bantered and bickered and taunted. And in recent years, they got lost in each other’s bodies when he found a reason to visit the Capitol, an excuse to visit her.
The third Quarter Quell and the Revolution had softened Effie’s plaster, and he liked her better this way — too much sometimes, he considered. Liking people too much was dangerous. She felt it too: the softening and the danger of getting attached. She looked forward to his visits far more than she was willing to admit.
He arrived late one night, long after the hour of their usual dinner and drawn out tease. Effie hated waiting; she hated worrying as rain fell outside; and she chastised herself for worrying as she waited — for Haymitch of all people.
At midnight she glared at herself in the bathroom mirror. “Enough!” she demanded, pulling off her false eyelashes and brushing out her intricately styled hair. “That man! Six hours late and not courteous enough to even call.” She stripped off her clothes and threw on her robe. “I’m done with him. I mean it!” A single tear spilled onto her cheek, and she quickly washed her face to try to remove its presence from her psyche. The tear was stubborn. She wanted him too much tonight, and he’d stood her up. She recognized she was too attached.
Effie curled up in bed and listened to the rain, too anxious and upset to sleep. When she heard a knock at the door, her heart slammed. Damn it. If he thinks he can waltz in here more than six hours late, in the middle of the night for sex, then he’s sorely mistaken.
The knock came again a bit louder this time, accompanied by his voice, “Effie? ...C’mon, give me a chance to explain.” He knew she’d be fuming rather than sleeping.
Silence followed, and her heart slammed again. She wanted to open the door. She didn’t want to want to open the door, but wanting was her reality. She tied her robe closed, tucked her hair behind her ears, and steeled herself against her feelings.
“Fine!” she heard him holler and start to walk away just as she opened the door.
“If you think you can waltz in here more than six hours late, in the middle of the night for sex, then you’re sorely mistaken” She said it just like she’d rehearsed, though her voice wavered at the end.
He turned to face her with a sideways smile. “Sex? Who said anything about sex, sweetheart? I thought we were going to have dinner.”
Haymitch was sopping wet, leaving puddles on the floor of the hallway.
“Dinner?!” she huffed, “I see you dressed for the occasion. Did you swim here?”
“Almost.” He moved toward her. Damn, she looked good. No clutter. No makeup. Her hair curled behind her ears, and silk clung to her curves. He didn’t care what he’d just said about not coming here for sex; he wanted to touch her.
He waited. Waiting was more his thing than hers.
“The train broke down before the border in District 2. Some sort of electrical problem. Everything was dead. So I walked the rest of the way.”
“20 miles? You walked 20 miles?”
He stepped closer. “25.”
“In this weather??”
“Well, it wasn’t raining when I started walking.” A smirk clung to his face like the clothes did to his body. Everything was tight, including the feeling in her chest.
She held the doorway to keep from reaching. “Why not just wait for a repair vehicle?”
“It wasn’t coming until morning, and you and I had plans for... dinner. ...Am I too late?”
Oh, screw restraint. She reached her fingertips to his forehead, pushing aside his dripping hair so she could see his eyes.
He reached up for her hand before she could pull it away. They stood there a moment, knowing what would happen, still pretending they didn’t.
She composed herself. “You can’t just stand there dripping like a faucet. Whatever WILL the neighbors think?! For goodness sake come inside. ...And wipe that smirk off your face. ...And take off those boots.”
He kicked them off onto her mat, and closed the door behind him.
“What else, sweetheart? ...What else can I take off for you?”
Everything. She thought the word but didn’t say it.
“Wait,” she said instead. She headed to the bathroom and threw him a towel. He caught it just as the next one hit him in the head.
“Thanks for your hospitality,” he teased.
“One to dry off with and one to wear. ...I don’t think any of my corsets will fit you.” The smirk now was hers.
“Let’s hope not.” As he took off his clothes, Effie carried each article to the bathroom, where she hung them to dry in front of the heater. When she returned for the last items, he had the towel wrapped around his hips, just below his scar where the axe had effectively eviscerated him in that lifetime ago in The Games.
Her breath caught a moment. She’d seen his scars before. They didn’t surprise her, but her response this time surprised her.
“Don’t,” he said.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m a wounded animal.”
“Is that how you think I see you?”
“No? Then how?”
She draped the rest of his clothes in front of the heater. He followed her, and they met in the middle, beside her bed.
“How do you see me?” he repeated, not quite understanding why he cared enough to ask twice.
“Don’t you know? ...After all these years.”
“I don’t want to play guessing games tonight.”
She reached for his hand. “I see you like THIS.” She grasped it when he tried to pull away. “Since I was a girl, I’ve seen you like THIS.” She laced their fingers together. “For all the other ways I’ve ever seen you, there’s always been THIS — first, before anything else.”
“Maysilee.”
“Yes. Not wounded, Haymitch. And not an animal.”
He drew circles in her palm with his thumb, and her breath caught again. He untied the robe with his other hand. The silk fell open, revealing a sliver of her nakedness.
“Not an animal, eh?”
“Unless you want to be.”
He traced the edge between the silk and her skin. “What do YOU want? I’m more than six hours late. What can I do for you?”
She toyed with the towel at his hips. “You walked 25 miles in the rain to get here. What can I do for you?”
“I’m freezing. How about you warm me up, and we’ll figure it out from there.”
She unwrapped the towel and it fell to the floor. “Come here.” She pulled him into bed.
“So... what happened to being sorely mistaken about waltzing in here more than six hours late in the middle of the night for sex?” His hands were already moving in all the right places.
With her hands moving on him too, she asked with a mixture of annoyance and knowing, “So... do you want to have sex or not?”
“Fuck, yes.”
“Me too.”
The hours of waiting were all the foreplay they needed. Their mouths reached for each other as he slipped inside her, thrusting gently. Damn, she’s soft ...and beautiful. Without all that crap on her face, she’s gorgeous. What if I tell her? What then?
“Jesus, you’re warm.” He didn’t say it all.
Damn, he fills me — and I’m not alone. I’m so ready for this. I’m so ready for not being alone. What if I tell him? What then?
“God, you’re good at this.” She didn’t say it all.
They were lost in sensation. Haymitch realized he wasn’t fucking her; this was something else. This wasn’t numbing him, like alcohol or Morphling. He was feeling more, not less. And he was surviving it.
Soft moans in between kisses filled the apartment. Had they kissed during sex since the first time? Effie couldn’t recall. She wanted more. Sliding her tongue between his lips and his teeth, she explored the softest part of him. Maybe the only soft part of him. She’d take it. He was letting her have this much. And he was reciprocating, discovering her too. This was intimacy. And she was surviving it.
She was more than surviving it. She was swimming in it. Her body clutched him with a will of its own.
“I’m close,” she stifled a whimper.
He heard it anyway. “I know. Look at me, I want you to watch me when you come.”
His words pushed her over the edge. He crashed into her and followed, watching her too. Blue had never felt so striking.
“What WAS that?” she asked, still panting.
“Good. That was good.” He didn’t need verbal confirmation. He knew it was good for her too. “Good” was the only answer he had. Frankly, he didn’t have a fucking clue what that was. But he liked it, way too much. He felt it in his veins now, and it made him sleepy. He softened against her body.
“Don’t let me fall asleep.”
“Why not?” she asked for the first time.
His voice was drowsy, almost nonsensical. “My knife is in my clothes, and I don’t sleep without holding my knife.”
“Keep holding me instead,” she dared to say it, threading her fingers with his as she’d done earlier.
“You don’t want me to do that, sweetheart. You might wake up dead.”
“Don’t tell me what I want.”
“You don’t know me.” Even as he said it, he knew it was a lie.
She ran her fingers through his hair, untangling the candy pink ribbons that lived in her memory of her own confinement. “I know you as well as you know me.”
He brushed a thumb across her eyelid. Her lashes were natural, soft like everything else about her, everything except for her will.
“I don’t want to put tears here.”
She thought of earlier and that stubborn tear. The attachment was already here. It was too late to stop. “I’ll cry whenever I please. You can’t control that, Haymitch, so you might as well sleep.”
Her fingers hadn’t stopped moving along his scalp. She felt better to him than anything he’d known in a long time.
“Why do I bother arguing with you?” he mumbled.
“Because you love it.”
He clutched the silk along her spine.
I love it, he didn’t say.
I love it too, she didn’t respond.
Falling asleep was enough.
#hayffie#hayffie fanfiction#haymitch abernathy#effie trinket#hunger games fanfiction#hunger games#the hunger games#thg#thg fanfiction#haymitch x effie#effie x haymitch#the capitol#falling asleep#HayffieFics
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masterlist
requests: open, (read the rules here) i tend to write ones that i really like really quickly :) last updated; 06/08/20
works in progress
request here!
M = smut
A = angst
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bascially all others are fluff or have happy endings!
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johnny
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jaehyun
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mark
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donghyuck (haechan)
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➪ [23:45] 0.8k
↪ haechan’s stupid ipod touch had always been a joke to you, but when you finally get your hands on it, it makes you see him in a different light.
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↪ someone who hides pain behind a smile
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chenle
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jisung
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｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ seventeen ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆
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junhui (jun)
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wonwoo
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mingyu
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minghao (the8)
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part two 2.32k
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↪ you aren’t bothered by the werewolf that watches you whilst you charm your garden to grow, in fact you quite like the company.
｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ senseless ramblings and unfinished pieces ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆
➪ college boyfriend mark lee
➪ make you feel my love (preview) 0.6k
{badboy au}{highschool au}
#masterlist#nct imagines#seventeen imagines#ateez imagines#nct x reader#seventeen x reader#ateez x reader#seventeen#nct#wayv#nct dream#nct 127#ateez#wayv imagines#wayv x reader
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You know that Post I made about 2am movies? Well I felt like making something like that again, or at-least the last part. I’m putting it under a Read More so I don’t clog up anyone’s Dash.
Imagine you’re sitting there in the basement, your bedroom. You moved out of you’re childhood bedroom taking everything into the half finished basement during high-school. Sure a quarter of the basement is just concrete, some storage, the water heater and the furnace but there’s a wall between your room and that so it’s fine. You needed the freedom and you’re parents didn’t mind, they’re ready for you to move out soon anyway. The couch is alright but it’s no real place to sleep, your bed’s been on the floor since you busted the frame. You’re only here for the Summer anyway, or at least you don’t plan to stay there long.
It feels good to be at home, the first year of college is over and this is just what you needed. You think about staying here while you finish off college, dorm life didn’t suit you well anyway. Life in the dorms didn’t give you as much freedom as you though it would, sure it was fun at times but most of the time it sucked. Too many parties and loud noises, it was a miracle you passed with the grades you did. Thinking about it you know you’d save some cash living here, even if you didn’t spend much time here. Between work and classes you know you’d only sleep here.
You’re job at the grocery store took up any time you weren’t studying or in class. But you’d rather work at the video store or the record shop, hell, the arcade would be more fun even if it was just as hectic. After all you have a buddy who works at the video store and one that works at the bowling alley. It would be a lot easier to buy weed if you worked at the video store, since that’s where you met your dealer anyway. Sure there was a guy who sold at the mall and the bowling alley but their stuff sucked, plus they always pushed you to try other drugs you didn’t care about. You’re happy sticking with beer and weed, even if some hard liquor was nice from time to time.
You don’t really miss those Dorm parties, they where fun at times but mostly they where loud and annoying. Too much noise and too much drama, there was always a chance a fight would happen, and frankly you could do without seeing another drunken brawl. You’re basement bedroom with a few friends was always better then a big party. There was a lot more to do in the basement then at a party, watch a movie, play some video games, even just hanging out was better there. Sure you had to open a few windows or stand in the hatchway to smoke, unless the weather was nice then you’d just take a walk. The dorm parties where always stressful even without drama and fights.
Sitting back on the couch you do some channel surfing, not being too picky with what you watch. Just something good, it’s probably going to be some sitcom reruns unless there’s a movie on. Being close to midnight you don’t expect much, it’s not like your paying for cable. Your TV antenna get around 20 channels, almost 30 on a good clear night. A few of the channels come in a little fuzzy, but it’s not too distracting just a bit of static here and there. The TV fuzz is no worse then some VHS static, even a few of your tapes have fuzz just from being watched.
You could watch a tape or play a game, but you’re not in the mood. Having a Super Nintendo and you’re original Nintendo give you plenty of games to play. Your tape collections not bad, even if a bunch of them are one’s you had as a kid. Cartoons, a few kids/family movies, even a few horror flicks and the typical action and comedy movies, There where maybe 30-40 tapes mixed in with your books and games on your shelf, no real order to it.
Flipping threw the channels you sip on some water, settling for some reruns of Happy Days. It’s not like you’re gonna watch much of it anyway given how tired you are. Dozing off was bound to happen, especially since you got up during a commercial to grab your pillow and blanket. This was a good night to sleep on the couch anyway, with nothing to do tomorrow there was nothing to loose. You end up falling asleep half way threw an episode, only to wake up a few hours later. Mister Ed is on which means it’s around four in the morning now. Turning off the TV you roll over and go back to sleep.
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