#it’s fun for a little bit but driving home at 4:30/5 when I’m tired isn’t ideal

[rosicheeks]

I'm sorry you lost your spot. Maybe that info the nice cop (i guess there have to be some out there) gave you can be the first step to a wonderful journey of joy and positivity. I'm rooting for you, Princess.

🤗

[officialsimppage]

-Hospitality-

Request: Spencer reid a reader where the reader gets poisoned by an unsub. Like in the hotel room the « staff » left chocolate on the bed for hospitality. Spencer has to save the reader when the poison starts to take effect at the precinct. Confessions of love later in the hospital?

Hi! Thank you so much for requesting! I really liked this idea and I hope my writing fulfills your spencer reid dreams! <3 This takes place around s4!

Warnings: Mentions of poor living, poison, and some sad vibes.

“Ok, so there have been 4 mass poisonings in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. The first was at a winery, which killed 13 people, the second, at a bar, which left 5 dead, the third at a restaurant which left 20 dead, and the fourth, at a hotel bar which left 3 dead. The last two were only 2 days apart.” Garcia says, showing us images of all the crime scenes. “They are testing for poisons, but they are thinking it’s arsenic. Since they died very quickly.” she says with a grim face. 

“He’s obviously escalating, but why is the body count going up and down?” I ask looking at Rossi and Hotch. 

“That’s what Milwaukee police want us to find out. Wheels up in 30.” Hotch says looking at all of us. I get up and walk out into the bullpen with Spencer right by me. He tries to say something but then I cut him off by asking,

“Hotch I forgot some stuff for my go bag so I’m going to run home quickly and I’ll meet you guys at the airport ok?” I ask Hotch. 

“Yeah sure that’s fine.” he says.

“Ok thank you!” I say walking out of the BAU,waving at him.

“Be quick!” he yells back at me. I don’t have to grab anything. I just have to hide from Spencer. I can barely handle being around him alone. I can’t even look at him without wanting to jump his bones right then and there!

We hop off the airplane and head to the hotel before we head to the precinct. There were little rooms so I had to double up with Spencer. Great. I have to be sleeping with the man I have been in love with since I joined the BAU. Which was 3 years ago. That’s always fun, being in love with someone who is completely oblivious for 3 years.

“Ok Spence, here's home for the next however many days.” I tell him to show me the hotel room. It isn’t the greatest, but it isn't the worst. I run to the the bed by the window and I yell, 

“I CLAIM THIS BED!” I say running and jumping on the bed. I stuff my face in the sheets and inhale the linen smell. It's nice, comforting. 

“Omg Y/N you are one of a kind. I like that about you.” He says chuckling looking at me. Even though I’m not in front of a mirror, I know I am blushing. But I know it means nothing, so I brush it off my shoulders, but at the same time I hold it close. Hoping it means something. I get a text message from Hotch saying there was another poisoning so I get up and walk to Spencer and I say, 

“Spence we should get to the precinct, there was another poisoning.” I say with a sigh. I get up, grab the case files and start to walk out . I stand in front of the door and I think ‘why isn’t he coming?” I turn around and,

“Spence, are you looking at my ass?” I ask laughing a bit. He looks up with scared puppy eyes quickly trying to think of an excuse.

“I uh- no actually, I was uh- not doing that! I promise! I- was-” He says stumbling quite a bit. 

“It’s ok Spencer let’s just get to the precinct.” I say laughing a bit. 

“Yeah right lets uh let's go!” he says quickly walking ahead of me obviously embarrassed. It’s cute, actually. I follow him into the elevator and down to the car. 

“Ok Spencer I’m driving. And hey if I catch you looking at my boobs-” 

“Y/N!” Spencer says obviously annoyed by my joke. I laugh and start the car and start heading to the precinct. 

 “Finally you’re here!” Emily says walking up to me. “Hey, sorry about you being paired with Spence, I know you love him, it's just I needed me some lady time. I just needed a break from doubling up with Spencer.” She says with a sorry face.

“No it’s totally fine Emily! I get it and I’m sorry about always asking you to double with Spencer.” I say no realizing how much she must have dealt with. I mean what the rest of the group sees as annoying when Spencer rambles, I think it’s cute. “Let's go find out about what happened.” I say to her. She nods and we walk over to where everyone is sitting. Apparently, 4 people were in the hospital from a different poison. I guess it was slower. Way slower. She didn’t feel anything for 1 hour!

“ So why would he give someone poison, that gives them time to be saved? Is this like a god complex sort of thing?” JJ asks. 

“Maybe. Or it could be a sign of remorse.” I say. Maybe this son of a bitch feels stuff. Like actual feelings. Not ‘Oh! I want to kill people today!’ sort of feelings. I look up around the room to see everyone thinking. I accidently came into eye contact with Spencer. ‘Oh god, was he actually looking at me?’ No not possible. He was probably looking at the pamphlets behind me and accidentally met my eyes. Yeah, it was that. 

“Well we need to figure out what exactly she ate. Y/N, Emily, go visit Ms. Quirte in the hospital.” Hotch tells us and I nod and walk to a SUV with Emily. 

Were halfway to the hospital and Emily asks,

“So you are in love with Spencer.” She looks at me with sad eyes. Knowing how I feel. Being in love with someone I have no chance with. You know, when you are in love with someone you think it will pass over in a month. Then it becomes 3 months, then 6, then a year. Then three. Three years and I still can’t get over him. 

“Yeah, yeah I really am. It’s unexplainable. You know like I thought this would all pass over put here I am. Still stuck on him. After three god damn years.” I say with tears in my eyes, looking out the window. “Did you know I’m from Milwaukee.” I say as we drive by my old neighborhood. “ That was my neighborhood.It wasn’t a good one, my family was really poor. I had rough grades before. The only smarts I knew were street smarts. Then I picked up my grades and got a full ride scholarship to UW Madison.” I say looking at Emily, wiping my tears. 

“Wow Y/N, that’s, that’s horrible. But amazing. I admire you because of that. You know my mom was an ambassador so I never really worked my way up. I respect you for putting in all of the hard work you have put in to get into here.” She says looking at me with proud eyes. Almost like a proud sister. 

“Turn here.” I say coldly. Wanting to stop talking about Spencer and my past life. She nods, knowing I just need some time for myself. Time to think about my future and what i'm going to do to make up for my shitty past. 

“All we got is that she took a mint from her hotel room. He was here for her sister's wedding.” Emily says as we walk into the police station. We put our bags down and look up at the time. It reads ‘8:30” but it feels like 2 am. “Hey did you guys also know Y/N was from here? Like this is her turf.” Emily says acting all Spencer Reid smart. 

“Really,” JJ says. 

“Wow this must have hit hard little lady.” Morgan says. 

“Where ya from?” Rossi asks.

“Of course I knew it was on her resume.” Hotch says coldy.

“I also knew as well.” Spencer pipes up from the back of the room. 

“Spence! You scared me!” I say walking to him, distracting me from answering everyone's questions. . “Hey do you think we could get out of here, I’m beat.” I say whispering to him. 

“Uh yeah of course!” Spencer says in a high pitched tone. “Hotch, me and Y/N are going to go.” he says grabbing his stuff.

“All right, just be here by 8 am.” he says, walking back to the geographic profile. 

“Ok!” I say walking out with Spencer right beside me. We get into the car and I turn to him and I say, 

“Please don’t say anything about my life here. I sorta want to forget it. All of it.” begging him with sad puppy eyes. He looks at me for a couple seconds. And says, 

“Of course Y/N. Anything for you.” He says putting his hand on my cheek. I quickly pull my face away. That had to have been a friendly gesture. Right? I looked out my window to see that it had started sprinkling. Great, some sad weather to add onto my sad mood. Just what I need.

When we get into the hotel room I turn on the lights and flop onto the bed. Then I feel something hard on my thigh. I look down and see a bar of gourmet chocolate with a ribbon saying ‘Enjoy your stay!’ Huh. I don’t see any on Spencer's bed. Well, all I know is that I’m eating this tomorrow morning. I could seriously use some chocolate. I change into my pajamas and turn to see Spence already laying down in his bed. I turn off the lights and I hear,

“Goodnight Y/N.” from Spencer. He says it in a quiet voice, like he's trying not to disturb me if I was sleeping. Even though I was awake.

“Goodnight Spence.”I say, making it obvious I’m tired. I turn around in my sheets and fall asleep quickly. Dreaming not of Spence, but of that chocolate. Oh how will I enjoy it tomorrow. 

I wake up at 7:30 and get up to go wake up Spencer.

“Spence, we have to get up. It’s 7:30, Hotch told us to be at the station at 8.” I say shaking him a bit. He stirs a bit in his sleep and then opens his eyes. He looks dazed and confused. 

“Wha- What? Oh yeah right the Hotch thing. Ok I’ll get up. I’ll use the bathroom while you change.” He says slowly sitting up and stumbling to the bathroom. 

“Ok sounds good.” I say before he closes the bathroom door. I put on a white blouse with a black pencil skirt. I brush through my hair a bit and look at my night stand. I lean over and grab the chocolate and open it and take a bite. ‘God this is so good!’ I have three more bites and I look over and Spencer has come out of the bathroom. 

“Where’d you get that?” He asks, walking to his bag for clothes. 

“I don’t know. It was left on my bed last night that said, “Enjoy your stay!’” I respond. 

“Can I have some.” he asks, hoping to just get a nibble. 

“Nope, it’s all mine.” I say walking into the bathroom taking the last bite of the chocolate. I put on my makeup, curl my hair, and brush my teeth and I walk out to see Spence ready to go. I put on my heels and we walk out of the hotel feeling better than ever. 

We get to the station at 8:05 and set up in the conference room where all of our stuff is. We look over and we see there are more crime scene photos on the board. Crap, another poisoning. 

“Good you’re here. You missed a doozy. 18 victims in the hospital.” Rossi says looking up from his newspaper. 

“Gah, really?” I say with an annoyed look on my face. Rossi gives me an understanding smile and chuckle. I turn to the board and decide to get to work. I think, why is he now not killing them, but giving them time to get to a hospital and be treated? Why is there such a crazy victim count? It’s all over the place. As I ask myself these questions, I feel some heartburn and my throat feels tight. I dismiss it and pop some heartburn relief, blaming it on the crappy coffee. As I look on the board I see Morgan and Hotch walk in with a serious face. 

“Guys, we need to deliver the profile.” Morgan says with an urgent look. I look at Spencer and Rossi and walk out to where JJ and Emily already are. 

“Our unsub is a white woman in her mid 20s to early 30s. We have reason to believe she suffered some sort of poison event as a child, or it happened to her own child. Which has caused her to suddenly feel the remorse kick in.” Hotch says looking at the officers. I start to feel a little dizzy as Emily talks and I feel my throat tighten even more. Spencer is standing right next to me and looks at me when it’s my turn to deliver. 

“Our uh, ahem, sorry,” I say, clearing my throat trying to talk then I feel my throat tighten all the way. I can’t breathe. “ H- Hel- I ca- can- brea-'' and that's the last thing I say before I black out. 

*SPENCERS POV* 

I turn and look and notice Y/N say she can’t breathe and pass out. Oh god no! I immediately catch her in my arms and lay her down. Everyone looks over and gasps. But they stay frozen. 

“SOMEBODY CALL THE PARAMEDICS! QUICKLY!!”  I yell for everyone to hear. JJ quickly picks up her phone and calls them right away. Everyone tries to crowd around her and I push them all back trying to give her space. The only thing I can think of is to perform CPR. I start doing chest compressions looking down on her. 

“Y/N you have to stay with me. Come on not now. Not happening not today!” I say speaking down to her. I lean down and whisper in her ear, “You can't go. Not until I tell you I've been in love with you ever since you said hello to me.” That's the last thing I say to her as I see the paramedics rush in and take her to the hospital.

 *Y/N POV*

I wake up to beeping and bright lights above me. I turn to my right side and see a heart monitor and IV drip. I look ahead of me to see ‘ICU ROOM 2’ on the window. What happened? I look over and I see Spencer resting. I look at him and say,

“Can we get these lights off?” I barely say since I’m so weak. He looks up with a happy expression and starts tearing up. 

“Y- Y/N! You’re awake! Oh god I thought I lost you! You were out for a day! Turns out the chocolate was poisoned since the unsub who we caught by the way, didn’t like the FBI being brought in,” Spencer says rambling a bit he then stops and says, “I’m just glad you're ok. And since this happened I am obligated to uh say this but. Y/N I have been in love with you since you walked in. Your voice, laugh, smile, lights up my world. It is my world. You are my world. I love you. And I understand if you don’t feel the same-” 

I cut him off with a kiss. A soft one, because I’m weak. But it means everything to me. He loves me back and it’s not just 1 way. 

“Spence, I love you too.” I say crying and looking at his beautiful, soft eyes. I slide over and usher him onto the bed to cuddle me. He sits up so I can put my head in his neck. He looks down at me and says, 

“I’m so glad I can call you my girlfriend.” he then leans down and kisses my forehead. 

“And i’m excited to call you my loving, caring, amazing boyfriend.” I say with a chuckle. We lay down for a while until he pipes up,

“That was some great hospitality wasn’t it Y/N.” looking at me. 

“Spencer I love you and your voice, but please be quiet.”

[rae-is-typing]

Scars

Original request from @sorrybutimtrying: Can you do one where Chris Evans or Paul Rudd meets a fan, sees her scars and tries to help her. Or something like that

Description: You win one of those contests where you and some other people get to meet and fraternize with a celebrity. This time, it’s Paul Rudd. He notices something you wished he hadn’t.

Characters: reader, original female and male characters (Sophia the Marvel person, Olivia the other teen girl, and a lot of unnamed men and women), Paul Rudd

Warnings: swearing, implied self-harm, self-harm scars, being sexually harassed at work, mentioned cat calling

Word count: 3.8k

See Ant-Man three weeks early, hang out with the one and only Paul Rudd, play laser tag, and pizza together on an all expenses paid trip to LA! Enter now! 12 lucky fans will be chosen. Entries close in three hours. 

You take a moment to stop scrolling. Your heart speeds up; it always does when opportunities arise. You always apply, but you never win. Glancing at the clock, you see you still have ten minutes on break. 

What the heck, might as well enter. There's nothing to lose. 

Entering takes the rest of your break. You were asked questions, and had to enter your phone number and email address a few times. You submit your entry as soon as your break ended. Sighing, you push yourself to your feet. Back to serving customers and getting yelled at by your manager. 

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

Life gets hard and you completely forget that you ever entered in the first place. 

You aren't proud of what you do to cope. Hell, you've managed to stop doing it completely for a few months. But sometimes it's so hard. Too hard to do anything else. 

You don't show off your scars. By sticking to long sleeve shirts, concealer, and strategically placed bracelets, you can easily make it seems like there are a few birthmarks on your wrists instead anything self-inflicted. 

Unfortunately, you can't afford to see a professional. Both you and your mother are working multiple jobs so you can eat and have a place to live. Deep down, you know you should tell her. Deep down, you want to tell her. But you can't bring yourself to. It'll only stress her out. Between two jobs and going back to school to finish her degree, you don’t want to bring her more stress. But your always hopeful for the day where she'd be able to help you through your hard days. 

Speaking of hard days, you hate being a waitress. You work in a particularly sleazy part of town where the guys like to call out anything resembling a female body. Walking down the street brings you one cat call after another, and waitressing isn't any better. You get called every pet name under the sun. Sweetie, babe, baby girl, jujubee. Someone even called you, a 16-year-old wearing some of the baggiest clothes imaginable, sugartits. Your manager had fun with him. 

After getting home, you flop on your bed and fight the urge to cry. You made a whopping fifteen dollars in tips that night for working 4 hours, a customer yelled at you for giving them iced tea with ice in it, and a guy started following you home until he got bored. It was not a good night. 

Then your phone starts to ring. Maroon 5 reverberates in your room, simultaneously annoying you and making you feel a tiny bit better. Without looking at the caller ID, you pick up the phone. 

"Hello?" You ask, voice muffled by the pillow your head is still buried in. 

"Hi there! I'm looking for a Y/N Y/L/N." A feminine voice chirps through the phone.

"Yeah, that's me." You roll onto your back so you can speak clearer. 

"Great. My name is Sophia Ramsey, I'm the one organizing the event with Paul Rudd. I'm so excited to let you know that you won! You will be one of twelve to be flown out to LA to meet with him and spend the day with him."

A huge smile tugs at your lips, so much so your face starts to hurt. "What?" You laugh. "Are you serious?"

"I sure am! Some blank documents have been sent to the email you provided in your entry. I need you to fill them out and either fax them to the number listed on them, mail them to the address listed, or scan them and email them to that same email address."

"I-I can totally do that!"

"Now this event is an all expenses paid, so everything will be provided for you. You'll be flown out the day of and flown back home after it ends. It will be held June seventh."

"Thank you so much!"

She laughs at your enthusiasm. "Of course. Once we get those documents we will be organizing your flights. We will be in touch."

"Awesome, wonderful. Thanks so much!"

"You're so welcome. Bye bye now."

You pull the phone away from your ear, sporting a grin that could rival the Cheshire cat himself. You won! You won you won you won! You're going to meet one of your favorite actors!

You pull up your email on your phone immediately. Spotting the email, you skim through the PDFs quickly. Since you're a minor, there are a lot of things your mom has to sign. 

I need to print these. You think, biting your lip. You don't want to wait for the next at school, you want to fill these out now. Grabbing your wallet and apartment keys, you run (yes, run) down to the library that's a few blocks away. A lot of students gather there for studying and the free wifi.

You wave at a few of your classmates, and they nod back. You print the documents off quickly, paying a small fee for the paper, and you run (yes, run) back home. 

You bounce into your apartment, still giddy (and sweaty). 

"Mom! Mom, you'll never guess what happened!" You exclaim upon seeing your mother sitting on the couch in the living room. 

She looks up from the book she was reading with a tired smile. "What happened, sweetie?"

"Remember that thing I entered? That event Marvel was hosting?" You ask, vibrating with excitement. 

"I do."

"I won! I won Mom! I get to meet Paul Rudd!" 

A grin broke out on your mom's face. "Oh, Y/N, that's awesome."

"I know! I have to fill out these documents. Do we have somewhere we can fax things? Do you know how to fax? I don't know how to fax."

She laughs. "I'll teach you how to fax things, don't you worry." 

------

You get everything taken care of the day after. After another call with Sophia, you manage scheduling flights and times for the drivers (you get a driver! how awesome!)

In the weeks leading up to the event, all your extra effort is put into a gift for Paul. You have a knack for art that you don't have much time for anymore. Between school and work, it's also hard to find energy to put into it. 

However, you said 'screw school' and began an art project: a hand-drawn collage of all Paul Rudd's characters, including Ant-Man. It takes all the time leading up to the event, but you manage to make it look amazing. Along with the collage, you write him a letter. You don't believe it to be anything very special, but you hope he will appreciate it. You detail your own struggles and how much looking up to him has helped you. 

Then the day comes.

You barely sleep at all the night before. Adrenaline and an unhealthy amount of caffeine replace any semblance of rest you may have gotten. 

The driver arrives at your apartment at 4:30 AM to take you to the nearest airport. After triple checking your stuff and a quick goodbye with your mom, you're off.

The car is so nice. You have no idea what make or model it is, but you're sure it very expensive. The drive doesn't take a long time; the roads are practically empty and there is little traffic, which is great. 

However, you're left on your own in the airport, which is not great. A lot of zombie-esque people are there, a few crying children, and some drug dogs even joined the party. You bite your lip, scratching at your concealed wrists. It's something you always do when you're nervous. 

You don't have any bags other than a backpack, so you don't need to check anything. Looking around, you try to spot someone that looks like they know what they're doing. You eventually do, and follow them to security.

The line is long, and after moderate hassle with the agents, you're through and on the way to your gate. Once you get there, you closely examine your ticket. First class. Your eyebrows shoot up. The first time you're flying and you get first class. Damn. Okay, you'll take it.

The flight was good: no babies cried, the flight people were all super nice, and you even got the entire row to yourself.

After the flight, you're off to the venue. You meet your new driver at the exit and get to another very expensive looking car. 

LA traffic is everything you've heard and more. The streets are packed, and it takes quite a while for you to get where you're supposed to be. But when you do, it is incredible. 

The building is huge. It's wall to wall one way glass. The sun bounces off the silver accents, almost blinding you. Out of pure impulse, you take a picture. You almost don't believe that you're here. 

After thanking the driver, you hop out of the car and walk into the glass building. The interior is even prettier. 

It's clean, with dark oak floors and chairs and tables lining the wall. A small group of excited people are gathered by a longer table full of stuff. Your anxiety spikes. This is actually happening. You're going to meet one of your heroes and give him some of your art. This cannot be happening. You nails find your wrist again.

After making your way to the small group, they immediately welcome you into the circle. They each introduce themselves for probably the millionth time, and one of them informs you that everyone is here. 

After a few minutes of pure small talk, a woman walks into the lobby area. 

"Hi everyone!" You all turn to her. She's dressed in a red sleeveless blouse, black slacks and high heels. Her face is done up nicely, as is her hair. She stands proudly with a charismatic smile gracing her face."I'm Sophia, the manager of this event. I'm so excited to get started! First things first, we'll start with the meet and greet. Each one of you will get 15 minutes with Paul. After that, there'll be a few games of laser tag, and finally, the screening of the new Ant-Man movie! We at Marvel ask that you keep all the movie details to yourself so everyone can enjoy the movie when it comes out."

Murmurs of agreement spread through the room. 

“If you all follow me, we can get started," Sophia leads the group to a different room. Paul is sitting at a table with an empty chair next to him. 

Excitement spreads through you. He looks so much more real in person, as weird as that sounds. You bite your lip, keeping your mouth shut. Excited calls from the other fans make him smile widely. 

You keep your place near the back, slowly building up courage and thinking out what you're going to say. You certainly don't want to look like an idiot when you meet one of your heroes. 

"Nice bracelets." The voice of a girl pulls you from your thoughts. 

"Oh, thank you." You say, turning to see her. She has short black hair, blue eyes and pale skin. 

"Yeah. I love Panic! At the Disco. Their music is amazing."

"For real, they're so good!"

The two of you share small talk until it's her turn. For twelve people each getting fifteen minutes, time went by very fast. She talks to him excitedly, something that he reciprocates. Another wave of anxiety comes over you. Your heart speeds up, your hands get a little sweaty. Holy shit! You're actually meeting him.You fight the urge to scratch at your wrist.

Finally, it's your turn. 

You go up to the table with an anxious smile on your face. He smiles back. 

"Hi there!" He says. "I'm so glad you won."

"Thank you!" You say, sitting down in the chair. "I actually brought something."

"Oh thank you! That's awesome."

You pull out the small framed collage, placing it on the table with the enveloped letter on top. There's a small stack of stuff on the other side of him. He carefully sets the envelope to the side, now examining the poster. 

"Wow! This is so good!" He exclaims. "Did you draw this?"

You can only nod shyly. 

"This is great, really. Thank you." 

"You're welcome."

The two of you talk for the rest of the time. He signs a couple of things for you, and you take a few pictures. At the end, you want to take a funny selfie for your instagram. While taking the picture, your bracelets slide up your arm. Your heart stops for a split second when you see a fresher scar. You pull back the bracelets immediately, and play it off as soon as possible. 

But it was too late, Paul saw some of the scars. His face falls into something more solemn, concerned almost. He opens his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted. 

"Alright everyone! It is time to move on to the next event."

Paul put a smile on his face, but he gave you a worried glance at you while he stood up. He walks by Sophia as you're led through the building. The interior continued to take your breath away. Postmodern design flooded your sight as everyone crams into an elevator. 

You're taken up a few floors and the elevator opens to a small room with vests and guns attached to said vests. A blank scoreboard hangs proudly above everything. You glance around. Everyone is sporting grins. 

"Let's do girls against boys!" Olivia, the girl you were talking to before, exclaims. 

"You sure?" One of the guys pipes up. "I think there are more guys than girls," 

"There's like one more guy. We should do at least one battle of the sexes." She grins. 

"I'm cool with it," A woman in her mid twenties smirks. 

"Me too," You shrug. More murmurs of agreement spread through the group.

“Alright, suit up everyone. Girls will be red and boys will be green." Sophia says. 

"I will leave you to Ralph, he is our resident lazer tag expert." 

"Alright everyone, your goal is to destroy the other team’s base. You do that by destroying the power supply in the deepest part of the opposing team’s base. It looks like a dinosaur egg off of Jurassic Park, and it lights up. I have a few ground rules. No fighting, no sprinting, no food or drink near the equipment. But most importantly, have fun! There are large towers on each side where you have to charge your gun. Your vest will beep at you when you need to recharge. Good luck. Boys, enter to the left, girls on your right." With Ralph ending his spiel, everyone hustles into the room. 

You follow behind one of your teammates to the back of the base. The room is absolutely massive. There's a large structure running through the middle of the floor with at least four sets of stairs. The supporting poles are lit up by green and red lights. You clutch your gun to your chest. It's not the very first time you're playing laser tag, but it is the first time in a long while. 

You go off on your own, jogging up the stairs on the large structure. You speed walk quietly, ducking behind large foam covers that were spread sporadically throughout the entire floor when you suspect one of the boys had spotted you.You climb to the top. You hold your gun by your thigh, keeping your finger on the trigger. Slowly walking in circles, you try to spot the egg like power supply that Ralph had described on the ground below. 

Suddenly, someone bumped into you. You jump, barely holding back a yelp. 

"Oh, my god. I’m so sorry." Olivia quickly apologized. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, you just scared the shit out of me though," You laugh. 

"I'm sorry... Y/N, right?" 

"Yeah yeah yeah, and you're Olivia, right?"

"Mhm, what are you looking for?"

"I'm trying to find the power supply." 

"Same girl. I think I saw it over there." She says, gesturing to your left. "But I'm not sure."

"Let's go check it out."

The two of you venture to the left, moving as quickly and quietly as before. Soon enough, you're able to spot the power supply through the guard rails. Only one guy is standing guard. You share a small low-five and split up to attack it. 

Olivia jogs down the stairs to ground level and you go to the second floor for better range. 

You crouch close to the floor, poking your gun through the guard rails and wait until you see Olivia come up behind the guard and start shooting. You join her immediately, and together you almost destroy it. However, your gun runs out of charge. 

Cursing under your breath, you jog as fast as you can (almost running) down to a charging base, where you run into Olivia again. 

"Dude, that was fucking crazy." She laughs. "We almost had them."

Laughing breathlessly, you agree. "For real though. We got them this time. Same plan?"

"Hell yeah,"

"What plan?" A new voice cuts in. The woman in her mid twenties pops up out of nowhere. 

"We found their supply. I went low and she went to the second floor. If we have one more person, I think we got this. We'll have to hurry though."

A grin spreads on the woman's face. "Let's do it. I'll head to the first floor on the other side."

The three of you jog together back to the same place as before. You show the woman where to go, then you leave to go up one floor. 

Once again, you start to shoot when Olivia does. The woman joins in soon after. 

You hear the guards frustrated cries as he tries to fend off all three of you at once. A few of the other guys come running back, but it was too late. Girls won! 

You laugh, throwing your hands up. "Hell yeah!" 

Olivia cheers, and the woman whoops. The lights come on, making you wince.

"Game over. Red team has claimed their victory! Congratulations, ladies!" Ralph's voice comes over intercoms you didn't know were there. 

You make your way down to ground level, meeting up with the other women. You congratulate each other. 

"Let's do it again! Same team?”

The lot of you end up playing three more games: girls vs. boys, old people vs. young people, and Paul vs. Everyone else. Boys won, young people won, and the last one was a tie. (You and Olivia ended up teaming up with Paul anyways, but no one else needs to know that.)

After that, everyone was crammed into an elevator yet again. This time smelling a lot less pleasant after running and sneaking around.

All of you are lead to another floor. This one resembled a movie theater more than anything else. A huge table of food is set up in front of the door to the screening room. 

Everyone begins to get their dinner, most of them being hungry from the hour and a half spent running around in the dark shooting at each other. 

Before you could grab a plate, however, someone places a hand on your shoulder. You turn to see Paul standing behind you.

You smile up at him. "Hi."

"Hey. I wanna talk to you, could we step out?" That look of concern from before is etched onto his face. 

"Sure," You say, the slightest bit of hesitation seeping into your voice. You step into a smaller, unoccupied corner of the hall. Before you can ask any questions, he starts speaking. 

"Look, I don't know your situation, I don't know you, and I don't know what you've been through, but I saw your wrist. I know what it's like to be low, and I just wanted to tell you that it gets better. Everything is going to work the way it's meant to. Everything is going to be okay. And if you need help, don't be afraid to ask. Mental pain is just as serious and debilitating as physical pain is. I hate to see anyone go through this, especially my fans."

Tears prick at you eyes at his words. No one has ever taken you aside and spoken to you like this before. All the anxiety and trepidation leaves your body, and your left with this warmth and reassurance. 

You can only bite your lip and nod. He smiles again and opens his arms. You hug briefly before leaving the corner and getting your food. 

Everything after that is all smiles and laughter. The food is some of the best you've ever had; they certainly spared no expense. 

The movie is incredible. You have no doubt in your mind that you'll save your tips and take your mom to see it one night after it comes out.

Truth be told, you're sad this is over. You want to do more with everyone, but you're so undeniably grateful that you got this opportunity. More pictures are taken, social media is exchanged, and soon you're all on your separate ways home.

When you get home, you pass out on your face, shoes barely kicked off your feet. You never expected to wake up to what you did though. 

A DM from Paul Rudd. 

Hey Y/N! It was so nice meeting you! I'm so glad you had the opportunity to attend the event. It's always so wonderful to spend time with fans. I wanted to tell you that your collage is amazing! You have a real knack for art. You should definitely keep it up if you can. Thank you for sharing your story in the letter. It really moved me. I also wanted to let you know one last time that things do get better, things do improve. Stay strong for yourself and your future. You got this.

[kikizoshi]

Fyolai OTP List

Original list taken from sonse’s The Ultimate OTP Questions List: Fyogol Edition

I urge anyone interested in my list to go look at sonse’s, too. They have a lot of cool takes. (There’re 48 questions in total.)

        1. Who is the most affectionate?

Neither of them are super affectionate or touchy-feely, really.. I guess you could say that Fyodor’s more touchy, but even then it’s usually only fingertips… But yeah, usually there isn’t much touching in general.

         2. Most common argument?

Argument… Well, it’s hard to really call it an argument. Usually, Nikolai’ll get upset at Fyodor not seeing him as a person or manipulating him and go off for a few days or weeks until he can come back and pretend he was never upset. Fyodor, for his part, doesn’t acknowledge it and just welcomes Nikolai back when he returns.

         3. Who apologizes first?

Well... Fyodor's too arrogant to assume he's done something wrong, and Nikolai's too prone to brush past things he doesn't want to think about... So they kinda just leave it to fester in the corner and continue about their days.

         4. Favorite (non-sexual) activity to do together?

It depends on the mood. But, most commonly, Fyodor's favourite activity is to curl up in a private place (library, nook, underground base, etc.) with Nikolai and read with him, each occasionally sharing thoughts or questions--or even conversations--about their individual books. Nikolai's favourite activity, however, is taking Fyodor out to a carnival, or the theatre, or a fair--something fun and flashy.

         5. Who drives and who rides shotgun?

Public transportation~ (though, in cases where that's not possible, it just depends on location and need, so probably about 60/40 for Nikolai and Fyodor.)

         6. Who is most likely to carry the other?

Nikolai's way more likely to carry Fyodor as, well, Fyodor'd struggle to lift someone his own weight. That being said, I don't see this happening unless out of necessity, as they're both fairly independent.

         7. Nicknames?

Russian ones? Yes, probably. I imagine Nikolai'd call Fyodor Fedya (since he calls him Dos-kun in Japanese), and Fyodor... he'd probably just stick with the name Nikolai (or maybe “golubchik” (little dove) on rare occasions?).

         8. Who proposes?

Ehh, I highly doubt they'd get married, since Nikolai's all 'society's norms are hellish brainwashing' and Fyodor likely just doesn't care (it’d be a hassle for nothing).

         9. Who sings along to the radio?

Nikolai, though it's rarely lyrics since all Fyodor listens to is classical pieces or old operas Nikolai can't decipher. He'll hum along quite a lot, though.

         10. Who worries most?

I feel like Nikolai's more of a worrier in general. Like, in his moments of downtime, with nothing to distract him from the futility of his goals, he'll worry and worry about what he should do, what he's doing, how what he'll do will affect the future, etc. Fyodor's more sure of himself, so I don't see him worrying about much. Maybe about Dazai, though...

         11. Who always wants to take selfies with the other?

Nikolai would secretly like to (though not so secretly, considering how perceptive Fyodor is), but Fyodor won't let evidence of himself in a location be found, lest the picture be stolen and used against him. Nikolai usually doesn't mind, though, unless they're in a once-in-a-decade place. He complained about not being able to hold onto mental pictures like Fyodor once, when they went to see a travelling fair that was doing its last tour.

         12. Who likes to playfully tease the other?

Nikolai, completely. He'll enter the room with a joke, and leave it that way too, as well as adding them in the whole way through. Fyodor, though, I'd say teases back almost as much, just more subtly and in response. Nikolai initiates the teasing, and Fyodor finishes it with a tease.

         13. Who has the weirdest taste in music?

Depends on your definition of weird. Fyodor listens to mainly classical and old operas, stuff like that, whereas Nikolai's more into modern things with some sort of twist (experimental jazz or electric swing, for example). He also loves musical theatre.

         14. Who remembers what the other always orders at a restaurant?

Well Fyodor remembers everything Nikolai's ever ordered when they were together... Using a word like 'always', though... Fyodor remembers what Nikolai ordered but Nikolai usually gets something different each time, and Fyodor's more uniform with his palate choices, but still tends towards trying out new things half the time. Fyodor could guess what Nikolai was going to get, though.

         15. Who is embarrassed to take their clothes off in front of the other?

Hm, neither of them are.

         17. Who initiates kisses?

Depends on the situation, so I'd say about 50/50. Neither of them are touchy-feely, as I've said, and kissing is only slightly more common than hugs for them. But, generally, Fyodor kisses Nikolai when Nikolai's having a rough day, or when he's trying to get Nikolai to want to do something. Nikolai kisses Fyodor when he's in a really good mood, or when he's really in a bad mood... I'm not sure how to put it properly though...

         18. Who reaches for the other’s hand first?

They don’t, really.

         19. Who kisses hardest?

I honestly don't know... I really liked the second half of sonse's answer though.

         20. Who is most ticklish?

Nikolai.

         21. Who brings an animal they found home?

Fyodor would kill the animal to put it out of its misery.

Nikolai would just walk past and think that there's no point in helping.

         22. Who holds the umbrella for the other when it’s raining?

Nikolai, since he's taller and his arm doesn't tire as easily.

         23. Who tries to playfully embarrass the other in public?

Neither, embarrassing each other isn't something they do.

         24. Who kills the scary bugs?

I mean neither of them are afraid of bugs-

         25. Who asks the weird questions at random in the middle of the night?

Nikolai'll wake up from any number of bizarre dreams, and, if Fyodor's still awake, he'll bring it up.

         26. Who hogs the blankets?

Fyodor. If he's asleep, his subconscious will do all in its power to make him as warm and comfortable as possible, even if it means the freeze of his dear friend (Nikolai usually just ends up draping himself in his cape at that point).

         27. Who wakes up first?

Nikolai wakes up first since he goes to sleep earlier, though he only wakes up first by about thirty minutes.

         28. Who wants to stay in bed just a bit longer?

Depends... Fyodor's good about getting up when it's a workday, and on the rare day's he'll take off, he still usually gets up quickly to make the most of the day, and drags himself off to the shower. Nikolai, on the other hand... Well, it depends on several things. If he's alright or moderately alright, he'll get out of bed just fine. However, if he killed someone in the month or just, in general, can't stand himself, it'll be a lot harder to convince him to get up. Some days even a gun to his head won't get him out of bed.

         29. Who always makes coffee for the other each morning?

Neither. Ivan makes Fyodor's tea and Nikolai makes his own.

         30. Who cries during certain films or when reading sad books?

Haaaah, well I guess if Nikolai was in a really, really, really (and I mean REALLY) bad place, something might set him off, and a few tears may fall. It's super uncommon though--he usually just bottles his emotions until he can 'forget' about them.

         31. Who gets scared during horror films?

Neither of them scares easily at all.

         32. Who cuts the other’s hair?

They both cut their own.

         33. Who says “I love you” first?

Fyodor says it first, as a way to get Nikolai fully on his side. Nikolai’s said it a few times, in despair, but always pretends it didn’t happen afterwards.

         34. Who tells their friends/family about the relationship first?

Well there isn't really a 'relationship' to tell about? They don't classify their relationship as anything other than lovers and friends, and there’s really no point in mentioning it randomly.

         35. What do their friends/family think about the relationship first?

Well... Pushkin hates Fyodor, always has and always will, and considering how their relationship started... Pushkin does have a reason. Goncharov doesn't care. Fyodor's mother and sister vaguely know about Nikolai. They've met him maybe once or twice, but they just know him as 'Fyodor's friend'. Turgenev... it's best to say that his relationship with Fyodor is... turbulent... but when they end up talking their conversations are usually very fascinating (if they can get over their mutual disdain, that is). Mishima flat-out couldn't care less, why is this being brought up to him?

         36. Who is more likely to ask the other to dance with them?

Nikolai, probably, after being moved by Dostoyevsky's cello playing.

         37. Who cooks best?

I'd say they're about the same.

         38. Who wears the other’s jacket?

Neither. Nikolai needs his for his Ability and Fyodor's the one that gets cold easily. Nikolai does, however, keep a spare cloak in his Overcoat just in case (though whether or not he’ll offer it to Fyodor depends on his mood, and Fyodor never asks).

         39. Who uses cheesy pickup lines?

Nikolai.

         40. Who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear during inappropriate times?

Both, but in different contexts. Nikolai spontaneously gets ideas from things around them, and excitedly likes to share them with Fyodor on a whim. Fyodor likes to respond to them with a small quip to encourage the idea, though he sometimes does them just in general if he's super bored at a social gathering or something. In any case, they usually do it in a language no one else around is likely to speak.

         41. Who makes the other laugh most?

Fyodor makes Nikolai laugh all the time, though those laughs are always sort of fake (like an extreme version of a small, polite chuckle). Sometimes, though, when Nikolai's in a really good mood, the laughs will be genuine. On the other hand, Nikolai tries to make Fyodor laugh, but doesn't succeed. In the end, neither of them are much to laugh.

         42. Who needs more reassurance?

Nikolai, definitely. Fyodor's sure of himself and his plans, and so is Nikolai to an extent, but Nikolai still gets doubts, which is when Fyodor comes in to tell him that everything is going to work out.

         43. Who would have to bail the other out of jail?

Well... I don't think either of them would pay for bail, but Nikolai'll be fishing Fyodor out of jail (or general captivity) pretty regularly. (It's just such an easy way to extract information!)

         44. What would be their theme song?

Oh boy I have no clue- Maybe ‘The Land of Might-Have-Been’?

         45. Who would sing their child back to sleep?

Fyodor, as he softly touches their forehead and watches the blood pour from their slack lips- On second thought, maybe children isn't such a good idea...

         46. What do they do when they’re away from each other?

Oh, all sorts of things. Fyodor does work, gets kidnapped, messes with Dazai. Nikolai bounces from place to place, spends time with friends, finds work or other such things to do. In the end, they don't actually spend that much time together.

         47. A headcanon about them that stabs your feels?

Neither will ever truly achieve fulfilment.

         48. A headcanon that mends the previous one?

:')

[clonecaptains]

i’d really love to see you tonight - part 4: night moves

chapter 4/5

word count | 5k

rating: m for smut

summary: hopper x reader; Christmas presents are given, among other things ;) buckle up for some sexytimes

a/n: part one is here; part two is here, part three is here

masterlist //

PART FOUR: NIGHT MOVES

Hopper’s cabin is perfect, and the moment you first step inside - you know you want it to happen here.

It’s exactly what you expected and more. It’s cozy and warm, and rustic, yet simple. It’s so him. He gives you the grand tour, and you know he’s proud of the little place.

He makes you dinner and you watch TV. The evening is relaxed. There’s something you love about watching him in his place. He looks like he belongs, he’s comfortable. Not to say he isn’t comfortable with you - but it’s different. And you feel cozy here. You hope you belong in his eyes.

He doesn’t tell you then, but he does think you belong. Having you in his place makes it better.

A month or so passes before much changes. It was fall when you moved to Hawkins and met Hopper. Since then, you’ve grown closer to him, and made new friends. Your social circle has grown a little and you’re enjoying life the way it is.

You’re not as scared or lonely to sleep alone, and Hopper doesn’t stay over on your couch as often. It’s not exactly a Hopper sized couch.

However, the more you’re around him, and the more you fall for him, the more you want him. He’s been nothing be patient and wonderful. He’s comfortable in taking things slower. He’s never been slow with a woman in his life, and it’s refreshing in a way.

It’s early December when you decide you’re ready. Hopper has a long weekend coming up before the holidays, and you’re going to take advantage. You weren’t sure how to tell him, you figured when the moment was right you’d know.

That Friday evening, he took you out to a new restaurant in town you’ve been wanting to try. You picked at your food from nerves, and lied saying you weren’t that hungry. He knew better, and you knew better to lie to him, but he didn’t press the issue. And he never got the chance to because as soon as you got back to his place, he ran into the bathroom and was sick.

Food poisoning.

You’d not seen him so sick in the few months you’d been dating. You got a cool rag for his head, and let him rest his head in your lap on the bed.

“I’m sorry,” he groaned, “I know you were looking forward to this weekend.”

“Yeah,” you give a defeated sigh. “I was hoping…”

“Aww shit,” he groans again. He knows what you’re saying, and it makes sense to him now why you didn’t eat much.

“It’s not your fault,” you tell him and rub the rag over his forehead.

“I know but, this ruined your plans.”

It might have ruined your plans for this particular evening, but you knew it’d be approaching soon.

You want to make sure whenever it happens that Hop is off the next day, and that you are too. You don’t want to be running off to work, you want to enjoy him in the morning.

You’ll be off for sure during Christmas. And you assume he’ll at least have Christmas Day off.

And you were right, he has to work Christmas Eve, but Christmas Day is all yours.

He’ll be home late that night, you know. So you spend most of the day at his cabin getting ready. You’ve packed a bag, and brought some groceries over. You’re going to cook while Hop is at work. And also try to calm yourself down.

You’re mostly excited, but there’s still that twinge of nerves in the back of your mind. But the excitement is greater than the fear, so that’s how you know.

A shower is first on your agenda. It’s freezing outside, and getting extra toasty sounds good to you. Hop keeps the cabin warm when he knows you’ll be here, so it’s not cold inside.

Getting naked in his bathroom to shower sends a thrill down your spine, a different kind of thrill. You’ve showered here before, but you have a new mindset today. Soon you imagine he’ll be joining you in the shower.

You wash your hair and your body at least twice. You want to smell extra clean. When you step out, you glance in the mirror and examine yourself. Every insecurity seems highlighted in the bright bathroom light.

But then you pause to look around the bathroom. It’s clean but not spotless. Wallpaper is peeling in the corners. His deodorant and cologne are both uncapped and lying on the counter top, which tells you he was in a hurry this morning.

Hopper has never sought out perfection, and he won’t notice the things you see in yourself.

Feeling slightly comforted, you dry off and get dressed in what you’ll wear tonight for him. A warm sweater and a simple black skirt. Some lacy underwear is hidden underneath.

You’ll worry about your hair later, for now you’re going to begin supper.

Christmas movies have been playing all day, and though you’re alone, being at his place doesn’t feel so lonely. The essence of him is all around.

At 5 pm the phone rings and you jump out of your skin. It sends your heart pounding.

“Jim Hopper residence how can I help you?” you answer, you know it’s him so you decide to have fun with it.

“Hey baby,” he answers his voice is fond, but he doesn’t laugh, that tells you something is up. “I’ll be home late tonight. Nothing I can do. I’m so sorry.”

You expected this but it still deflates your good mood. You try not to let him hear it in your voice when you answer. “It’s alright, it’s not your fault! Just call me before you leave ok?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“I love you Jim.”

“Love you too baby. Be home soon.”

You hang up the phone and feel your heart ache. You know he’s upset, you want nothing more than to hug him. You can just picture him frustrated in his office, if he’s not sitting he’s probably pacing.

While you wait now, you start on some cookies. That takes up a lot of time because you decorate them as well. Two hours have gone by, and the phone rings again.

“Hey sweetheart, I’m headed home. It’s snowing really hard so it might be a bit before I get there. I can’t wait to see you.”

It’s killing him knowing that you’re alone at his place. He knows what’s going to happen tonight and he doesn’t want to keep you waiting any longer. You’ve been in his head all day and he wants to speed home. But the roads are bad and it’ll take longer to get home. His usual drive from work to his place is 15 minutes. From the way things are going he’s betting a solid 30 or more.

You know for sure you have at least 15 minutes before he gets here. You do last minute checks on food, and yourself. You touch up your hair and makeup and spray a bit more perfume. Your palms are sweaty and every sound sends adrenaline through your veins.

15 minutes goes by. Then 30. Around the 45 minute mark you start to really worry.

Your worries are relieved when you hear tires crunching on snow as he pulls up to the cabin. You can barely see him come in because the snow is so heavy coming down.

Your pulse quickens with every step of his up the stairs to the front door. Your heart is so loud in your ears when the keys jingle in the lock. A cold rush of wind blows inside and soon he enters the cabin. Snow is dusting his jacket and his hat. He shivers when he steps in as his body adjusts to the warmth inside.

He shrugs the jacket and takes of his hat. And when he turns to look at you, you swear your knees are going to give out.

“Hi,” he smiles at you, you’re standing by the little table he has near the kitchen against the wall. He takes in the sight of you, you look beautiful. His nose is filled with the scent of food and sweets and your perfume that drives him wild. “This is the best thing to come home to. C’mere baby,” he motions for you and in a beat you’re in his arms. “I’m sorry I’m so late.”

Feeling his body against yours after waiting all day is too much. His clothes are cold still, but his body is warm underneath. He smells like coffee and his cologne though it’s worn off considerably.

“It’s alright, I was just worried after so long.”

“I know,” he sighs.

You don’t move from his arms, you’re not sure what happens now. Your answer comes when you hear his stomach growl. You laugh at first, but then you frown. He’s probably not eaten all day.

“Ready to eat?” you ask looking up at him. He kisses your forehead and nods in response. He knows you’re eager to get to…other things. But you haven’t eaten either.

You get plates ready while he steps into his bedroom to change clothes. He returns in your favorite blue flannel with a henley underneath and jeans.

The food is still warm, and you sit down to enjoy the meal together. You can barely look at him from across the table. His big blue eyes are fixed on you. The teasing has begun. He’s flirting now a bit, to take the edge off. His eyebrow raises, and he’s smirking a little bit. And every time your cheeks get a little redder, he chuckles to himself.

You do carry on a nice conversation and tell stories and memories from past Christmases. It’s not easy on either of you, but because you’re together it makes it worthwhile.

Hopper eats more than you, which isn’t abnormal - but you barely eat anything.

“Nervous?” he asks watching your face for a reaction. He’s not teasing when he asks this question. It’s the elephant in the room for you, but he’s very casual about it. But he’ll admit he’s anxious to make things good for you.

You nod, but still give him a soft smile.

He doesn’t tell you, but your shyness is driving him wild. It’s turning him on more than he anticipated.

“It’s ok,” his voice is calm. He stands and takes both of your plates to the sink. He shoves a cookie in his mouth and takes your hand.

This is it, you think. You heart is racing. But instead of leading you to the bedroom, he sits down in his recliner, and he pulls you down on top of him to hold you.

“I want to let my food settle first, and get you relaxed,” he tells you and wraps an arm around you.

You’re snuggled against his chest, and you feel the soft flannel under your hands. His chest is firm underneath, and the slow rise and fall of his breathing soothes you. His heartbeat is steady. He’s watching the movie on TV, but you’re paying attention to every little detail you can feel. One of your legs is draped over his, and his arm is wrapped tight around you - but still relaxed.

And you only think he’s watching the movie, his eyes might be on the screen but he’s noticing every little thing too. How good you feel in his arms, how your breasts are gently touching his chest. Your hand over his heart.

You’re not sure who will make the first move. You wonder if he’s waiting on you.

The movie ends after an hour, and you stir. You sit up a little, his hand rests on your back as he watches you sit up.

“You ready?” he asks. It kills you how gentle his voice is. His eyes are so kind. His eyebrows raised in question. He asks as if it’s the most simple thing in the world.

You nod yes. Your heart hasn’t stopped racing, but it’s exhilarating.

Your legs tremble when you stand, and he’s quick to get up to steady you.

“We can wait you know,” he offers.

“No.”

He nods, and takes your hand in his and leads you to the bedroom. Once inside, he clicks the door closed behind him. He starts to turn on the overhead light, then he stops and turns on the beside lamp instead.

You stand awkwardly in the room, unsure of what to do now. He pulls the covers back on the bed, and adjusts a pillow up at the head of the bed. He gives it a once over, then he takes a seat on the edge of the bed.

You take that as a sign and start to pull the sweater off, but he stops you.

“Whoa whoa, wait. Not yet. C’mere,” he motions for you, with a reassuring hand, he pulls you to stand in between his spread legs. “I want you as relaxed as possible.” He wraps his arms around your waist and his lips find yours. The kisses are slow, there’s no urgency in them. And it takes you a few moments to kiss him back.

Hop takes things in stages, once you’re relaxed and kissing him the way you normally would, his hands go for the hem of your sweater. Soft eyes check to make sure you’re good with the action.

“Sweetheart, look at me. If anything at all makes you uncomfortable - tell me. And if something feels good…” his voice trails off and you see that mischief in his eyes again. You run your hand through his hair while he looks up at you.

You nod, you’re sure. And you’ll tell him.

With that, he pulls the sweater off over your head.

He takes a moment to admire his view. Your torso is now bare except the black lace bra.

“Damn. Darlin’ this is the best Christmas present I’ve ever opened,” he laughs and with greedy hands he grabs your hips. He focuses on your neck and exposed chest for awhile. His lips drag across, and his beard blazes a trail. He’s getting more playful and tests the waters by throwing in little nips and bites to your neck. When you moan, he continues.

Next he goes for your skirt, he unzips it in the back and works it down your hips. Once you’ve stepped out of it, his hands grab your ass. He squeezes and groans to himself.

You’ve never felt so sexy in your life. He’s melting under you. Your confidence is through the roof. Until he travels his hands up your back and reaches for your bra.

You don’t mean to, but a small sound comes out.

He stops in his tracks and looks at you, concern on his brow.

“I’m not….as good as other girls,” you tell him covering your chest with your arms. He raises a brow in confusion, but he reads your insecurity.

“Will you let me be the judge of that?” He takes your arms in his hands and puts them at your sides. He waits for your answer. When you nod again, he reaches around to unhook your bra. He can feel you tremble under him as he slides it off your body.

The sound he makes when he sees you almost kills you. He grunts like he’d been punched in the gut. Your nipples are in peaks, and he thumbs the swell of your breast first. He works his way up to your nipples, and touches a thumb to each. The first contact buckles your knees. He continues, and brushes his thumbs back and forth teasing them.

He then fills his palms with your breasts, he squeezes and massages, and when you groan louder, he definitely continues. You lean forward and lean against him, you can’t stand up straight anymore.

“They’re perfect,” he whispers more to himself, but he’s making sure you hear. He repeats the affection again, this time his mouth is inches away from your right breast. His breath is hot against your skin, and you see stars when his lips wrap around your sensitive bud. Right when you thought it couldn’t feel any better, he starts to suck and nibble. He places gentle bites along the more fleshy part of your breast. And when you shudder when his beard grazes along, he makes a point to nuzzle you. You can literally see him making mental notes of things you like.

“Hop,” you whisper. You love standing between his legs, but your knees are about to give.

He nods and gathers you in his arms to lay you down. He nudges you over so your head is laying on the pillow he carefully placed. You lay on your back feeling exposed, he’s still dressed. But that’s about to change.

He unbuttons his flannel and shrugs it off. He’s not giving you a show on purpose, but it’s highly arousing. His henley is next, he pulls it off over his head, leaving him shirtless in front of you now. A light dusting of dark hair covers his chest. You want to touch it immediately.

Before he can unfasten his belt, you sit up and reach for him. You grab his belt and pull him towards the bed, feeling a little bold. Your hands are obviously trembling, but you unfasten his belt.

“Let me,” he smiles down at you fondly and he finishes the rest. His zipper sounds so loud to you, that thrill you’re becoming familiar with shoots down your spine.

He steps out of his jeans, leaving him in boxers with an obvious bulge.

Reaching out to touch him, you stop in sudden shyness. He only smiles and pushes you back onto your back. Making sure you’re comfortable, he climbs on the bed. Leaning over you, he places warm kisses to your lips. He makes a trail, from your lips to your neck. Then from your neck to your breasts again. He spends more time there - he knows you like it but he does too. He’s always been a boob guy. Then he kisses your tummy, and finds a ticklish spot. With his hands he reaches for the hem of your black lace panties. Again looking to you for permission, he pulls them down off your legs.

Still feeling shy, you clamp your legs together. He hovers over your lips and talks deeply - deeper than you’d ever heard him, “darlin, you gotta spread those legs if you want me in there.”

He thrives off of the blush staining your cheeks, and when he sees you smile, he knows it’s ok. It takes some coaxing, but he parts your legs by rubbing his hands up and down your thighs.

Getting further situated, he positions himself between your legs. He’s sitting up right, and you’re fully open to him. You’re eyes are closed tight at first, you’ve never been this exposed before.

The first touch of his fingers against your sex has your eyes opening wide.

“Baby girl, you are soaked,” he purrs and touches the slick collected there. He wants to tease you some more, but he decides against it for now. He plans on that for the future, he lives to tease you. And now that he knows how you respond it fuels him on.

But for now instead of teasing, he places his thumb on your clit to relieve pressure. You gasp loudly, and whine when he moves his thumb in slow strokes. He slips a finger inside your entrance, and then another. He curls his fingers inside a couple times, and before you know it you’re already clenching around him and reaching the first high of the night.

“Damn baby,” he praises, “barely touched ya. You’re doing so good,” he coos.

You’re panting and your body is humming. You’re not sure if your heart will ever calm back down.

“Wanna rest a second or keep going?”

“Keep going,” you huff out. “Don’t you dare stop.”

His laugh is loud at that. “Yes ma’am, I wouldn’t dream of it.”

While you catch your breath, he takes his boxers off. It’s now you see him fully for the first time. And now that he’s exposed to you, you take this chance to reach out and touch him.

“Is this ok?” you ask. He’s hot in your hand and you squeeze once to see his reaction. Which earns you the best groan you’ve ever heard. He pushes your hand away by holding your arms above your head. His hand is big enough to clutch both of your wrists.

While he’s holding you, he lays on top of you and kisses your lips again.

“You ready?” he asks. He wanted to eat you out, but he deems you wet enough. Maybe tomorrow for Christmas morning.

“Please,” you tell him.

“Gonna go slow,” he looks you in the eye making sure you heard him.

He guides himself to your entrance, and enters slowly. You feel every inch, and like everything else on Hopper - he’s big. It’s a snug fit, and it doesn’t hurt, but it doesn’t feel amazing yet.

When he’s fully inside, he pauses. His breath is strained, and you see a vein popping out on his forehead. He’s trying so hard to be gentle. When you feel the slight ache turn into a good feeling, you tell him.

“Move Hop.” Your arms are wrapped around his head, and you stroke his hair, then pull when he moves.

His first stroke and thrust of his hips is slow. It takes a couple thrusts before it feels good. Then he hits that spot inside of you that causes a strangled moan to leave your lips, and your nails dig into his back.

Another mental note.

He jerks his hips again and again to hit that same spot within you. He’s got a hand on your hip, and another cupping your breast. Your sex is still a bit sensitive from before, but you feel it building again. And to your surprise, it hits you again. It’s a slow orgasm, and not as intense, but you pulse around him.

A whine escapes your lips, and he’s whispering praises in your ear.

“Good girl,” he smiles and kisses your ear, “you’re doing so good.”

At the sound of his pet names and encouragements, you shudder and clench around him again, which triggers his orgasm. His groan in your ear is like you’ve never heard, it’s full of pleasure and it almost sounds pained.

He can’t help but relax a little on top of you, he holds himself up still with an arm but his body is pressing against yours. He begins to press kisses to anything his mouth can reach. You hold him tight against you, and then you feel tears well up in your eyes, you try to fight them, but he looks up when he hears a sniffle.

“This is embarrassing,” you laugh but sniffle.

“Why?” he smiles softly, he rests his arm above your head, and he gently thumbs away a tear, “it’s all new to you honey.”

And he’s right, it’s an extremely intimate act, and you’re overstimulated in the best way possible.

He kisses your cheeks and then your lips, “you did so good.”

Hopper continues his kissing trail to your neck where he stays. His large hand holds your head while he place warm open mouthed kisses along your neck and collarbone. He feels your pulse fluttering under his lips. He bets you have one more in you, but he’ll wait.

Slowly he pulls out, and climbs off the bed to get a rag to clean you up. You whine at the absence of his warmth, suddenly feeling very naked and exposed. He’s back before you know it, and feeling the warm rag between your legs is a jolt. He’s gentle, and the intimacy of it makes your heart burst. You’re not sure how much more you can take.

When he’s finished, he sighs heavily with content and lays back down on top of you. Only this time his head is nestled between your breasts on your sternum. Gently you rub his back, and he sighs again.

“That’s your spot isn’t it?” you laugh.

“Mm baby I believe, it’s your spot. You made these cut little sounds….” his sentence trails off as he hovers above your left breast and puts his lips around your nipple. Your back arches and you do make a noise - involuntarily of course. “There it is,” he chuckles and lays his head back down, scraping his beard along your skin on purpose as he goes.

Your heart is beating heavily under his ear, and he’s dying to get between your legs one more time.

“Baby, I feel that heartbeat of yours,” he purrs.

“Hop,” you whine, you’re flustered beyond belief. But you love it.

So does he.

“Thank you,” you whisper and rake your fingers through his hair.

“For what?” he rests his chin on your chest and looks up at you.

“For this, taking care of me. It was wonderful. Best Christmas ever.”

“You’re welcome,” he’s serious. “It was wonderful, and thank you for making dinner. And those cookies.”

“I still haven’t eaten one,” you laugh. You barely ate dinner.

“Let’s heat you up some food yeah? And eat some cookies.” He heaves himself off of you and the bed, and pulls on his boxers. You watch him with a smile as he rifles through a drawer to get flannel pajama pants and a t-shirt. He turns around to see you still sitting on the bed, he raises a brow at you. When you flush at the simple gesture, he shakes his head with a smile and comes over to kiss your forehead.

He disappears into the kitchen, and you hear him clatter around getting plates.

You take this opportunity to get up and go to the bathroom. You have to give yourself a once over.

You put on clean underwear, and pick up his henley and flannel off the floor and put them both on.

Giddy and on cloud 9, you tiptoe into the living room area and watch Hop in the kitchen.

“So what happens now?” you ask walking behind him. You wrap your arms around his waist and lean your head on his shoulder.

“You come move in here with me. That’s what.”

“Really??”

He turns in your arms, and looks down at you with the fondest smile you’ve seen all night. “That was going to be my Christmas present to you, is this place.”

“Jim Hopper you are full of surprises,” your smile, tears falling from your eyes.

“I know, I know, I’m pretty amazing,” he strokes his chin. You lean your head against his chest and sigh. Nothing could ruin this night or this moment.

You sit down at the table to eat, again, and he munches on some of the cookies you made. A Christmas movie is playing in the background, and you watch the snow fall outside.

“I have a present for you,” you tell him coyly inserting a forkful of food into your mouth.

“Oh yeah?”

“It’s wrapped under the tree,” you nod your head in the direction of the Christmas tree by the TV.

Excitedly he scoots his chair back and like a kid goes over to the tree. You follow behind him and sit down on the couch, a cookie in your hand.

He sits down on his chair, and rips open the package with his teeth. Inside is a rectangular box, and he’s so excited when he lifts the lid. You’ve given him a new watch.

“Oh it’s great,” he tells you. “Thank you!” he immediately puts it on, adjusting the size and giving it a look once it’s around his wrist. Maybe this gift was more for you than him because you love how he looks in them, but he doesn’t have to know that yet.

He looks up at you with a smile, but then it turns hungry. He licks his lips, and you swallow, somehow you know what he’s thinking. He sets down the empty box, and gets up out of his chair. He stands in front of you and kneels down. One hand is on each of your thighs.

“Hop?” you question, your voice trembling with delight.

“Baby, I gotta know.”

“Know what?” you shift around in your seat. His hands are up under the shirt now and tugging down your panties.

“Hop?” you ask again.

“I gotta know what you taste like.” He pushes the shirts up a little exposing you to him. You squirm a little at him seeing you in the light. “You ok with this?” he asks just to be sure.

Eagerly you nod yes, and he laughs. Then he growls and makes his move. He drags his bearded cheek along your thigh, and bites along your skin. He was going to tease you some more, because damn if it’s not becoming a thing for him, but when he smells you - he needs to taste now.

You’re already wet again, and feeling his mouth on you is arousing you even more. His tongue teases your entrance, and his nose brushes your clit. It’s when he sucks on your clit and teases with his tongue that you really cry out. He knows you’re sensitive and he goes slow. He keeps your legs spread by holding one hand on your thigh, but then he moves his other hand up under your shirt. His goal is to feel your heartbeat under his hand.

His facial hair tickles you everywhere, and it burns your thighs in the best way. When you come it’s a wonderful release, because he’d wound you up so tight.

Exhausted, you lay limp on his couch and he tongues you through the aftershocks.

“Darlin, you taste so good,” he grins when he comes back up. His chin is wet, and your eyes widen.

“Maybe soon you can teach me some other things?” you ask once you finally can move again. He’s sliding your panties back up your thighs.

“Yeah what’s that?” he smirks a little.

“Maybe I wanna know what YOU taste like…”

His head jerks up and looks at your grin. His eyes glance towards a window at the snow coming down. Then he nods his head towards said window, “the way that snow is coming down, we’ll be here most of the day tomorrow.”

“I’m looking forward to my next lesson.”

“Me too,” he huffs out like he’s been punched.

“Ugh no,” you groan suddenly and flop back against the couch.

“What’s wrong?” he stands up panicked.

“I just remembered, if I move in here I have to pack everything up again!!” you laugh.

He huffs out a laugh as he sits back in his recliner. “Well I’ll be glad to help with that,” he pats his chest for you to come sit on his lap, “again.”

You snuggle into his arms and relish in the warmth and safety that surrounds him. Tonight was special and he made it special. You’ll never forget this Christmas Eve.

//

@billyrussosbutt / @thisgirl-knm / @bitchy-vamp / @jamesbuchancnbcrnes / @thors-soft-cheeks / @negansdirtygirl22 / @justalittlepickle / @dewy-biitch / @thatbluenote / @crushed-pink-petals-writes / @asthepheonixrises / @worldofhannahg / @curbitkirby / @ohbeewan-kenobi / @wearethebrokenones / @egertonunwin / @happy-hopper / @joonieskooky / @missihart23 / @cainanelea / @eleanor-gillespie / @amywhatsherface / @hazeleyedwinchester / @thatprettymvthafvcka / @littlemissthistle / @thesimsnextdoor / @gamingaquarius / @pixiehex1985 / @mybulletproofheart / @fandommaniacx / @leyla676 / @ragnarsdrapa / @daddyharbour / @maciiiofficial / @yelenabelovna / @chiefharbour / @we-are-all-a-messs / @alumiinikuu / @ottosuricato / @no-mom-it-is-not-about-tumblurs

[miggydiaz]

I was tagged by @thugheadjones. Thanks, dear! 1. what is the color of your hairbrush? White, with a gray handle that has since been dyed purple due to my hair

2. name a food you never eat: I hated broccoli as a kid, so I tried it recently as an adult... it still tastes like what dirty socks smell like so I’ll pass, thanks.

3. are you typically too warm or too cold? Too cold -- I am a hoodie in the summer kind of person.

4. what were you doing 45 minutes ago? Eating a breakfast so late that it crossed over from brunch to lunch.

5. what’s your favorite candy bar? Uh... I’m not really a candy *bar* person. I like sour candy more, but I guess if I had to choose, something dark chocolate. Just not a Mounds because I hate coconut.

6. have you ever been to a professional sports game? A couple of baseball games. Both of them the Tigers won! (this is unusual, as the Tigers typically suck)

7. what is the last thing you said out loud?  “How do I get this stupid thing to go away?” It was a sign-in banner on my word document for OneDrive.

8. what is your favorite ice cream? Orange Sherbet, or uh, coffee/chocolate chip cookie dough. It really depends on my mood.

9. what was the last thing you had to drink? Coffee

10. do you like your wallet? Yeah! It’s this bat wing clutch one from Blackcraft Cult. Plenty of card space, the license spot isn’t a pain in the ass... it’s a good one. 30 bucks well spent.

11. what is the last thing you ate? Waffles.

12. did you buy any new clothes last weekend? Nope. I basically refitted my wardrobe this year though.

13. what’s the last sporting event you watched? Uh... oh, a Michigan/Ohio State football game two years ago? Michigan lost, just like they have the last million years. I gave up on football after that.

14. what is your favorite flavor of popcorn? Just a normal butter popcorn. Or I like popcorn covered in toffee.

15. who is the last person you sent a text message to? @starryeyedagony. It was a link to the Johnny Lawrence himbo video.

16. ever been camping? Once! It was fun, I’d do it again.

17. do you take vitamins? ... I know I should, but no.

18. do you regularly attend a place of worship? Not even a little bit. Not even at all.

19. do you have a tan? HAHAHAHAHAHA. Ha. Ha. No. Never.

20. do you prefer Chinese or pizza? Two years ago, I probably would’ve said pizza. Now I’m all about Chinese.

21. do you drink your soda through a straw? In restaurants? You guys remember restaurants? But no. I actually prefer canned soda.

22. what color socks do you usually wear? black. 90% of my sock drawer is black.

23. do you ever drive above the speed limit? I haven’t drove in years, but when I did... yes.

24. what terrifies you? Bees and all of their horrible cousins. Bumble, honey (I know they are good, I don’t kill them, I just run away) wasp, hornet, yellow jacket... basically, if it is black and yellow and flying then I am GONE.

25. look to your left, what do you see?  My bookcase, reminding me that I should be finishing up this critical analysis of formulaic violence against women in pop culture, but YA KNOW.

26. what chore do you hate most? Cleaning the tub is up there, but I do dishes more often, so I hate that one the most.

27. what do you think of when you hear an Australian accent? The old Foster’s beer commercials.

28. what’s your favorite soda? I like pomegranate italian sodas the best. Mainstream wise? Probably Squirt or Sprite.

29. do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive thru? Plague means I don’t go inside anymore, but it used to depend on whether or not the drive-thru line was too long.

30. what’s your favorite number? 13. Yes I am an overgrown edgelord. I was also supposed to be born on the 13th though, so there is that.

31. who’s the last person you talked to? @starryeyedagony over our brunch/lunch

32. favorite meat? Probably chicken these days. Unless I’m eating chinese because my go to dish anymore is mongolian beef.

33. last song you listened to? Uh, Come Little Children while watching Hocus Pocus. But I’ve had this Wear a Mask parody of Be Our Guest stuck in my head all day (thanks for reminding me that I have to start Season 2 of TLK though!).

34. last book you read? Darkness at Noon by Arthur Koestler. I’m finishing up Superwomen: Gender, Power, and Representation by Carolyn Cocoa

35. favorite day of the week? The day I don’t have to worry about this election bullshit anymore (I am keeping that answer because this election cycle has me so drained, can it just be November 3rd already?)

36. can you say the alphabet backwards? Yep. I can sing it backwards too.

37. how do you like your coffee? Hot, in my favorite mug with my initial on it, with some vanilla or hazelnut flavored almond milk.

38. favorite pair of shoes? My purple-black glittery converse.

39. time you normally get up? Somewhere between 9 and 11 depending on whether it’s a week day or a weekend day.

40. what do you prefer, sunrise or sunsets? Sunsets for sure (because I’m awake to appreciate them)

41. how many blankets are on your bed? I have one fuzzy blanket, one knit blanket, two down comforters, and a quilted velvet coverlet. So, 5 altogether.

42. describe your kitchen plates? white. Corelle. Google tells me the pattern is called South Beach. It has teal dots along the rim.  

43. describe your kitchen at the moment: Cluttered. There isn’t enough counter space in the world for all of my kitchen appliances. Probably warm since @starryeyedagony is making pork mole right now.

44. do you have a favorite alcoholic drink? I can’t really drink anymore (thanks heart condition!) but it used to be whiskey, neat, or in a whiskey sour. Or a glass of pinot grigio.

45. do you play cards? I’m decent at poker/black jack, but card games like Uno and Phase 10 are a different story.

46. what color is your car? I don’t own one. My roommate’s car is maroon? A dark red.

47. can you change a tire? I haven’t in probably 10 years, but yes.

48. your favorite state or province? To be quite honest with you, if it wasn’t for the people, I would love my home state of Michigan. I don’t live there anymore, but even though Detroit gets a bad rap, I miss my home <3 But outside of that, Minnesota was really pretty, and I actually like Florida (again, minus the people). Probably Florida since I’ve been there more than Minnesota. 

49. favorite job you’ve had? I used to work in this movie/video game/music resale shop that I loved. All of my coworkers were cool, we always had fun at work... aside from that though, I loved working holiday retail at Williams-Sonoma when ours was still open, and I actually really liked my most recent job at the university. I’m hoping I can go back (laid off... THANKS COVID) once they’re allowed to hire again.

If you want to, I’m tagging @starryeyedagony, @magicknightblue, @poloniumicecream, @magnetic-rose, and uh, anyone else who wants to do this.

[bitchardhendricks]

Well I’ve Never Been to Heaven (But I’ve Been to Oklahoma) Pt 5

Catch up on parts 1, 2, 3, and 4. Tell me what you think. Tell me Richard’s not the only one who has complicated feelings about home and what it means.

***

They finish dinner, Diane chattering about the goings on in the neighborhood, gossiping about Richard’s old classmates, and positively lighting up when she tells them Richard’s sister, Caitlyn, is taking the afternoon off and driving to Tulsa tomorrow from Oklahoma City, so she will arrive in the afternoon in time for family dinner at Brothers Houligan, Caitlyn’s favorite. 

Throughout this endless stream of words, Richard watches Jared hanging on every syllable. He’s eaten every last one of his carrots and potatoes, moving his roast into a neat pile on the side of his plate, and he laughs at all the right places, asks all the right questions that cause Richard’s mom to clap her hands in delight and coo over what a sweet boy he is. Richard mostly stays silent, staring down at his plate, thankful for someone who can finally play the role of the son his parents always wanted. 

It’s an unfair thought and he knows it, but seeing his parents so delighted feels like a weight has been lifted. If coming home were always like this, it would be so much easier. And Jared, god, Jared’s like a completely different person, all easygoing and unburdened...he looks good. Lighter, somehow. Maybe that’s just the consequence of having people around who notice him, ask about his life - fuck, Richard never asks him anything. Not unless it’s related to Pied Piper. All of their personal crap has been shoved out of the way because of Gavin fucking Belson and his fucking lawsuit and the monumental stress and anxiety and lack of sleep and like, defcon five-level emergency his life has been at for the past year. He shovels pot roast into his mouth and vows that when they get back to Palo Alto, he’ll do better, be better. Because it’s...nice. Nice to see Jared smile like this, to see him in his natural element among nice, normal people instead of their little band of freaks back at the incubator. 

A yellow, ugly bruise of a thought crosses his mind, and Richard bats it away as best he can but it lingers - in this moment, he wishes he could transfer his parents who care too much over to Jared, who's been cared for so little.

***

After dinner, they move to the living room to sit on the huge overstuffed sofa and watch recorded episodes of Jeopardy! that Steven had saved for Richard’s visit. It’s one of the few activities Richard and his dad can agree on, and for an hour or so, Richard is able to relax a little. There’s a category about North American birds that Jared sweeps, and he shoots a sunny, bashful smile at Richard when he gets the last one right. For the first time in months, the knot in Richard’s stomach begins to unclench.

But then Steven bids them goodnight and heads down the hall to get ready for bed, and Diane starts talking and the knot gets tighter, and Richard grinds his teeth until his jaw aches. It’s just - she never stops talking, even when she’s physically exhausted. “You boys must be tired after such a long day,” she says with a yawn, but she’s still stubbornly trying to stay up and get Richard to talk about his life, every question like lemon juice on a papercut. 

(“How are uh, oh the two that bicker all the time like old marrieds, you know--”

“Dinesh and Gilfoyle? Oh those two! Such fun. They fight, but I think they really cherish each other,” Jared supplies with a wistful smile.

“And Nelson? I mean, I talk to his mama, but I do worry about that boy. Such a sweetheart, but I swear he doesn’t have the sense the good lord gave a goose.”

“Big Head’s fine, mom. He’s great, actually, he’s got a boat. And a guy. For the boat, a boat guy, I mean, I guess you gotta have one if you...have a boat.”

“Oh! Well, that’s good. Good.”

She smiles, hopeful, tinged with expectation, always wanting more from him, always wanting something he just can’t seem to give her. 

When she gives up and launches into a story about Miss Louise down the street, whom Richard hasn’t talked to since he was 17, the familiar mix of relief and annoyance he feels is almost comforting.)

“I know it’s late, Mom, you wanna go watch Fallon with Dad.” 

A guilty look steals across her face as she protests, “No, I didn’t mean that! I just wanted to make sure y’all had what you needed. I already put fresh towels in your room, Richie, but let me just go fetch some for you, Jared, and I’ll put them in the guest room.” 

“Oh uh actually I think I’m gonna stay in the guest room. It’s uh, Jared talks in his sleep, so. To not wake you up, I thought, my room is uh, further away.” 

Diane’s eyebrows raise for a moment and she looks at her son like she isn’t quite sure what to make of him. “Okay, sweetie, that’s fine,” is all she says, and makes her way down the hall.

Richard turns to Jared on the couch, “Is that ok? I mean I just thought, with the German...”

Jared places one of his huge hands over his heart with an expression that means he’s about to start composing odes or sonnets or something, and Richard cuts him off quick, “It’s not a big deal, enjoy sleeping in a sad virgin’s bedroom. I mean I was, at the - I never, well I have now, I’m not anymore, I - I’ve had sex before!”

Diane clears her throat. “Fresh towels are laid out for you - you boys need anything else?”

Jared stands up from the couch to say, “Thank you, Diane, I think we have everything we need,” to allow Richard time for his blush to fade.

She says her goodnights, then makes her way down the hallway stifling another yawn. Jared turns to Richard and the sight feels surreal, incongruous, his lanky frame plopped in the middle of his childhood home. Richard suppresses the wild urge to laugh out loud at the turn his life has taken, somehow beyond his control; he has dreams sometimes where he is driving but can’t keep his eyes open, trying in vain to steer without careening off a cliff or into oncoming traffic. But no matter how hard he tries he can’t see, so he just keeps moving forward, knuckles white around the steering wheel, trying with all his might to get...somewhere. 

“I guess we should turn in as well, don’t you think?” Jared asks and Richard looks up, blinking at him. 

“Uhhh. Yeah, I - um, I guess.” The weight of the day is hanging around his neck, the tiny swp-swp-swp of the wicker-blade ceiling fan putting him into a sort of trance. He gets up and takes their bags, dragging them down the hall while Jared stops to stare at the photos hung there. The series of Richard’s school pictures, kindergarten to junior year arranged in small circles around the big circle in the middle containing his senior picture. Those dorky glasses, his ill-fitting polo shirt with the collar askew, his hair an afro-like halo of curls around his head. That wide smile, so much easier and open than he remembered being at the time. God, when was the last time you smiled like that? he asks himself. He has no answer.

The familiar drone of the newscasters on NewsChannel 8 drift down the hall from behind his parents’ closed door. His dad always kept the volume too loud. Inexplicably, Richard is surprised by a sudden wave of nostalgia so strong it almost makes him nauseous. Fondness and grief and the urge to hide away from everything are all mixed up inside him and he turns to Jared looking for - a solution? A distraction?  But clamps his mouth shut when he realizes belatedly that Jared doesn’t know what this feels like. He doesn’t have a home to go back to. 

“Hey Jared?”

He turns from the doorway of Richard’s old bedroom, looking a bit pink around the edges. Like Richard caught him doing something scandalous. The idea of Jared doing anything scandalous amuses him - this guy fucks, his mind supplies helpfully - and it’s enough to shake him out of his funk. This has been a long, long day and he knows exactly what will make him feel better. 

“It’s only 9:30 in Palo Alto. You wanna go somewhere?”

[sakuradormitory]

Understanding

I finished and edited another old project: 50 sentences about Sorata and Ryuunosuke this time! I’m hoping to do the same with a few more old projects next year.

You can read it on AO3 or FF.net, or down below!

1. Restless

“There's five concepts here, six if you count last one as two potential ideas-—” Sorata thumps down the pile of papers on top of Ryuunosuke's desk, and looks at him intently “-—I want your honest opinions on them, go ahead and rip them to shreds if you must, just help me make them better, alright?”

2. Understanding

“I just don't understand him,” as he tosses his phone aside, Sorata mutters to himself — he doesn't really care to, either (at least, not quite yet).

3. Right

“It just doesn't sit right with me, living with someone who I've only met face to face once,” Sorata argues,  raising his hand to knock on Room 101 even as Jin and Chihiro try to talk him out of it.

4. Hope

“Akasaka...” Sorata peeks around the door hopefully, “Jin-san and Misaki-senpai took over my room playing games, mind if I hide here for a while?”

5. Hinder

“You're only holding yourself back with that kind of attitude,” Ryuunosuke starts, but Sorata doesn't want to hear that from him, of all people.

6. Kite

Rita takes them up to Hampstead Heath where she and Mashiro used to fly kites; Sorata isn't expecting it to be quite so much fun until his and Ryuunosuke's kite outfly the others by a considerable height.

7. Closed

“Misaki-senpai said you play games too, want to join us—” Sorata winces at the sharp sound of the closing door.

8. Confuse

“You thought I was a ghost?” Ryuunosuke wrinkles his nose, apparently confused, “really, Kanda?”

9. Presence

“Well, you didn't exactly radiate a comforting presence!”

10. Rough

Sorata pats the space on their sofa next to him as Ryuunosuke flops down with a groan, “let me guess, the meeting ran overtime again?”

11. Edible

Ryuunosuke defends his attempt at cooking dinner as both edible and nutritious, which is really all that defines food, when you think about it, though Sorata insists that what you cook needs to taste good too.

12. Learn

“If you won't eat it, we can just order someth—” Sorata drags him to the kitchen for a cooking lesson before he can finish.

13. Posture

“Here, if you lift your chin a bit, and straighten your back—” Sorata holds onto his shoulders and steps back a bit to get a better view at him, Ryuunosuke's attempts to deter him doing nothing, as usual “—you'll thank me for this later, Akasaka, you'll make a better impression on them if your posture is good!”

14. Team

“I don't like team games,” Ryuunosuke says, not unexpectedly, but Sorata is pretty sure he and Misaki will manage to rope him into a few anyway.

15. Listen

“You just don't want to admit that she's actually really good for you,” Sorata starts heatedly, but Ryuunosuke is out of the door before he can finish.

16. Distance

“You know, you could at least admit that we're really good for you,” Sorata tries, his tone softer this time as he slumps back on Ryuunosuke's bed, looking at the ceiling, “just like you're really good for us... we've come a long way together.”

17. Subject

“It's research...” Sorata waves the console at him imploringly; Ryuunosuke turns away, hiding a smile, “...come on, Akasaka, just one game?”

18. Length

“You're just about the only person here I could tolerate living with for longer than two years,” Ryuunosuke mumbles sleepily one night, not expecting Sorata to really remember it.

19. Grumble “...oh, alright, I suppose I've got some time to spare...” Ryuunosuke rolls his eyes, but Sorata is all but beaming at him.

20. Assisstance

“Kanda, I...” the words seem to cost him something, so Sorata waits patiently for him to finish, “...you... you were right, and I need your help.”

20. Chord

“You could stand to treat your friends a bit better, Akasaka,” Sorata bites back harsher words, but the ones he calls out seem to strike a chord with him too.

22. Miss

“I think I'm missing something, Akasaka... your girlfriend sent you a lovely, thoughtful gift for your birthday and this situation is terrible because...?”

23. Gift

“...her birthday is several weeks away, that's plenty of time to come up with a gift idea,  Akasaka.”

24. Distress

“Do you think I'd be panicking about it this much if I thought I could think of something in that time?!”

25. Unite

“Combining what we both do... so you're talking about some kind of art software...” Ryuunosuke frowned slightly, looking from Mashiro, to Sorata, to his desk and the computer screens, “...even for someone such as myself... making an art software from scratch on my own in under a month... isn't exactly feasible,” he says finally.

  26. Serious

Mashiro looked from Ryuunosuke to Sorata, “Sorata, I thought he was supposed to be a genius.”

27. New

“I'd like to see you make software from scratch in three weeks,” Ryuunosuke muttered, leaning back again, as Sorata and Mashiro returned to the drawing board.

28. Smug

Sorata passes his driving test on his first try with flying colours; he offers to drive Ryuunosuke to and from every in-person meeting he has, so Ryuunosuke can't really complain about how smug he is about it.

29. Amount

“I can't imagine he'll be able to eat that many tomatoes,” Sorata said, eyeing the grocery bag that Jin had begun to unload.

30. Aviation

“I'll miss her too,” Sorata smiles when Ryuunosuke looks away abruptly from the rising plane, “but I think we all know she'll be back again soon.”

31. Gloom

“He likes programming and... tomatoes,” Sorata echoes gloomily, wondering how he's supposed to use those to start a decent conversation.

32. Routine

It had become some sort of a routine to bump into Ryunnosuke in the kitchen in the early hours of the morning on the days when insomnia kicked in.

33. Conduct

“I had hoped they'd be tired out by now,” Sorata sighs sympathetically when Ryuunosuke shoots a glare in the direction of today's chaos that Misaki and Jin seem to be conducting in the garden.

34. Appreciate

“Tomatoes are best enjoyed in their natural form, but I do appreciate the soup, Kanda.”

35. Victory

“Akasaka-” Sorata bursts into the room with what seems to be explosive, uncontainable delight “- I did it, I passed!”

36. Second

The second time they celebrate by the school pool, (despite Nanami's protests) Ryuunosuke decides to come for the food, but flat out refuses Sorata and Misaki encouraging him to join them in the water.

37. Visit

Mashiro comes by for a visit just as Sorata is giving Ryuunosuke a cooking lesson... he's surprised by how well it goes.

38. Rest

“Overworking yourself never did anyone any good,” Ryuunosuke scolds him; it's a sentiment that Sorata makes sure to repeat back to him on occasion.

39. Between

Between them, they'd managed to fix the broken kitchen sign with a lot of success... and the smile on Misaki's face certainly made it worth it.

40. Moment

“It's pretty good...” Sorata could almost swear that he was grinning, “it needs work, of course, but for a start...”

41. Certain

“Ryuunosuke-sama, a certain someone seems to be sending you a lot of messages for advice on his current project... should I block him?”

42. Split

“If we're going to be living together, we're splitting the grocery shopping 50/50, got it?”

43. Role

“Alright, I'll bring them to him,” Sorata huffs as Shirayama-sensei piles a stack of papers into his arms, wondering when he'd signed up for the role of passing on assignments.

44. Found

“Akasaka, have you seen K—” Sorata grins when he sees a familiar shape curled up contentedly on his friend's lap.

45. Lecture

“You're really going to lecture me about working out a good schedule when you pulled two allnighters to finish that project?!”

46. Exception

“Thanks, Kanda, I...” to his surprise, Ryuunosuke slumps against him after the awards ceremony; Sorata can feel his knees shaking a little still, “...I'm glad you came with me.”  

47. Attitude

It's a wonderful thing, Sorata thinks, to see your friend smile more and more throughout the years.

48. Reject

He'd expected Sorata to turn his back on him, he'd expected all of them to, and yet...

49. Unexpected

With Ryuunosuke being the only other resident home, Sorata isn't expecting much attention while he sneezes the day away, but it's a pleasant surprise when Ryuunosuke comes in with reheated soup, medicine and a bag of Sorata's favourite snacks, even if the latter is dumped rather unceremoniously on the end of his bed.

50. Change

A lot of things have changed for him over the past few years, he realizes, wincing a little as he helps Sorata carry the last box of his posession through the door of their new home, but he might have changed the most.

[the-canary]

Languages of Saints - C.R (5/10)

Summary: A deal isn’t supposed to involve feelings, right? (Reader/Carter Baizen). 

Prompt: “Did you enjoy yourself last night?”

Masterlist

A/N: 2.7k! ;A; 

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 

Feedback is always appreciated.

Part Time Event Coordinator.

It is something you decide to put one night on your resume after going over how much time you had spent creating and showcasing the wonder and charitable nature of the company since Mr. Baizen took over. Yes, you still had your old job and worked the hours necessary for them -- filling in all the dirty numbers that the CEO didn’t want to show the world, but even the numbers don’t add up for Carter Baizen sometimes. There were several thousands missing at a time, sometimes the numbers just didn’t add on -- at first, you had thought it was just something related to the shady dealings that Mr. Baizen handed, but there were even moments where he was confused, but with a flick of the wrist or a signature it was moved from his desk and ignored you. You had frowed the first time that he had done this, only for him to give you a shrug, throwing away money seemed so easy for him.

�� Get a lawyer, just in case, ” that’s what Rocio had told you the other day when you talked about the current details of your job, a relief that you hadn’t been working that weekend. But, who in their right mind would go against Carter Baizen -- the more time you spent with him, the more you realized how much of New York he had come to own. There was a little part of him everywhere, even owning a small portion of the Jets -- I mean, who did that ?  

However, you had also come to understand that Carter Baizen, without any of his family’s money, was a man that struggled to prove he had some type of worth to whoever looked down on him, you had seen this happen once.

“Carter Baizen threw away all his inheritance, pulled his father’s company to the brink,” they whispered, a little too drunk late into the night.

“Now, look at him, pretending he cares about inner city kids,” they, those socialites with nothing much to do besides drink, giggled as your eyes flickered to them and Mr. Baizen passing by and though he seemed unfazed there was a tightening of his jaw you seemed to notice -- you were noticing a lot of things recently.  

You stare at the word document for a moment before calling it a night. You’re still unsure of who Mr. Baizen was and what was his endgame to all of this, but at least you could be prepared when it all fell, or at least when he decided to finally fire you, which was the least he could do.

 Truth be told, Carter Baizen had lost his endgame years ago, when she got married a second time, when she had her kids, and a winery somewhere in Northern California. A lot of the things he had now, didn’t coincide with what he had wanted at the start of this long money marathon, but without a set end -- he kept running and doing what he had learn to do best -- take things from others. The problem was that despite all his misgivings and foolish choices, the former CEO of Wyman had been a charitable man, as such there were contracts and grants to follow through with, along with dollars to match and giveaway.

It wasn’t something he was looking forward to, but then he had found the perfect person for it.

“Mr. Baizen, I have the report completed for last night’s donations,” your voice echoes from the entrance of his office, as blue eyes look up from his laptop to look at you -- dark business pants and a white blouse-- before motioning for you to come in, whatever he was doing forgotten for the fun he found the rest of the night.  

“I’ve told you Carter is just fine,” he waves his hand dismissively, as you hand him the report and take a seat across from him, preceding to work on whatever else you have on your plate.

Ever since that first charity event, Carter had roped you into doing all of them for the spring season. He knew it wasn’t an easy task doing everything he threw at you, but you did it to perfection and he was proud of his little employee, letting you in on little perks that some threw themselves to try to grab on the first day -- like letting you calling him Car if you wanted, spending dinner time together, things he knew people only dreamed off -- but with that look in your eyes as you sat down, he knew it was a no-go tonight as well.

“Are you sure this is how much the Wallaces gave this time around?” he asks, skimming through the end where all the numbers connected, as you look up from your computer and nod, “ Cheapskates.”

You let out a small puff of air, but cover it before it can turn into a laugh. Carter can’t help the small uptick of his lips at the sound that managed to escape, before shaking his head and going through the rest of the documents you had brought him. Events were already planned months in advance, as you listed them all out -- ready for his approval, though he did find ways to get arise out of you -- just to see to roll your eyes and give him the best explanation as to why.

“Are you sure this is the appropriate blue for this theme?” he questions, a shiteating grin on his face as you look up from the laptop to see him leaning on the desk a bit more, while pointing to the color scheme for the summer boat race a few months away. You tell him to give you the paper, as you turn the page.

“This blue matches the color the foundation we’re supporting,” you explain, as he nods though not really paying any attention, he just wanted to see you work through it -- give him your explanation as to why you made all these choices so far. Carter might not have enjoyed all of this, but he liked seeing all the work you accomplished and how you seemed to be doing it for a good cause as well.

“I hope you understand why I chose it now,” you finish, though clearly knowing he wasn’t paying attention before going back to playing with the numbers on your screen.

Trading questions and remarks until 9pm had become the norm, and while he didn’t do it as often so did having some dinner through one of the apps he had downloaded the other day. Most of the fancy restaurants he knew didn’t deliver, but you were well-versed enough with what was around the building to give him some suggestions. At first it had just been for him, too tired to get his own dinner as you worked on, but now there was just enough for two people.

“Look you can either eat the kung-pow chicken,” he states with pushing the plate in your direction, “Or let it go to waste.”

You grumble your appreciation as Carter laughs taking another bite of his own meal with a self-satisfied feeling bubbling through his body, as he looks out towards the New York skyline. However, all things must come to end, as they do every night when the clock strikes 9:30 and the two of you are ready to leave, not to meet again for another week, as you head towards the street --ready to wait for a certain someone-- as Carter leans out of his all-too familiar car.        

“Would you like me to drive you home?” Carter asks. He had been asking the same question since these nightly meetings started. Sometimes, he was close as you debated being murder to walking to the station alone, but never once had he gotten the chance to get you in his car again, like he had back in the party.

It’s wasn’t going to be any different tonight, as a r ed 911 Carrera Porsche zooms in front of the two of you, Rocio grins as she waves at Carter from the front seat.

“Thank you for the offer,” you manage say in an even tone and a professional smile -- and for some reason it’s a rejection that Carter can’t seem to handle though he doesn’t show it, as you get into the red vehicle, “Goodnight, Mr. Baizen.”

Carter lets out a frustrated groan as he runs a hand through his hair before driving his own expensive car to his apartment, unsure of why he is so angry at these constant turn of events and just exactly why they won’t leave his mind anymore.

Oh, Carter Baizen has it bad, he just doesn’t know it yet.

 Heidi Castelo-Ashford constantly worried about her children, even if they didn’t care due to them being older now, but the one she worried about the most was her eldest -- Rocio. Being the only child of a model and a real estate agent wasn’t easy for Rocio, watching what happened to her father and then seeing her mother get married again and have more children --- well-educated and privilege beyond what one could imagine as old New York money, made her lash out even more. However, through thick and thin, there was someone that was a constant in her daughter's life -- you, because Heidi knew that isn’t it wasn’t for you Roci wouldn’t have made it this far in life, would have ended up in even worst situation.

Even if she didn’t see you often, you were like a 2nd daughter to her. An open invitation was always there for you, and this time Rocio (for whatever reason) had decided that the two of you would attend her mother’s annual garden party supporting various art foundations. So, here you are a pretty expensive summer dress and heels, as Rocio downs her 3rd margarita before it even hits 11am. Her mother waving from afar, as you return the greeting.   

“Roc, why are we here again?” you question, as green eyes scan the lavish tables and guests mainly dressed in white, “Who are you trying to bang?”

“I’m trying to reconnect with someone,” she explains before getting another drink from the waiters moving around, “Mom said Montreal came back.”

“Oh shit,” is all you manage to say, as you look scan the area for the moment. Montreal, or rather the person you had gone to the blasted city to had returned --potentially as the prodigal child-- the one that had humiliated Roci all those years ago, and you knew you had to be here.  

“Any game plan?” you question, only for Rocio to shake her head. It was kind of scary since she always had one before she threw it out the window, at least she was one step ahead for now, “Well, I’m here if you need an extra butt cheek.”

“I’ll holler if I need help,” she says calmly, almost too much so for some who has had 4 drinks in less than an hour, but you know that if she wanted you there she would have told you, as she marched into a world you didn’t know very well.

Outside dealing with Rocio, her family sometimes, and now Mr. Baizen -- you weren’t from a world like this -- hell, you could barely make the rent sometimes. You stood around for awhile, before Heidi grabbed you and began showing you around, soon more people were gathered around you, as if it had caught wind of who you were and your connections to a certain someone, unaware that someone had also heard that you were there as well.

“And have you thought of leaving Wyman?” an elderly woman that seems to be Heidi’s friend ask and clearly ignoring the recent change in ownership, as they have been going on asking you for the past 20 minutes about your personal background and current aspirations -- to which you didn’t back down from. You were sure that they were judging you, but you shrugged it off -- Rocio’s attitude clearly rubbing off as Heidi just gave a hesitant laugh.

“I actually--” you start off, only to have a hand grip your hip tightly as you look to see an annoying but perfect looking with his gelled hair wearing white suit and light blue shirt.

“She actually plans on staying there a very long time, but that’s besides the point,” he gives them a smile before dragging you out of the circle, as you try your best to say goodbye to Heidi as the women talk in a higher pitch before shaking their heads in agreement -- like flock of white birds and you can’t help but laugh a little.

“You’re hanging out with the wrong crowd, sweetheart, ” you turn to look back at Carter shaking his head, as you frown at the nickname.

“And your company is better than theirs?” you unknowingly tease him, as he grins pulling you towards a shadier part of the garden where the buffet is taking place along with some dancing. You pause and stare for a moment, still confused as to why both Mr. Baizen and Rocio would hate such a lifestyle, but it was just something you were never meant to understand.

“Much better,” he gives you a boyish grin that doesn’t seem as annoying as all the others he has given you in the time that you have known him. You don’t know if it’s being out of the work environment or his changed demeanor, even though he’s still seems to be puffy around everyone else, that allows you to laugh at his comment.

“Do you come to these often?” you question, pulling his hand from your waist only for him to place it right back. Blue eyes scan the whole area, as if lost in a memory of something else before answering your question.

“Haven’t been to one in a long time,” he lets out in a bitter huff, as you simply nod, as he adds on mysteriously, “But I just had to come today.”

You can feel eyes on you and him, as you turn to see some people talking and you can’t help but shake your head a little because as much as you try to keep it professional, Mr. Baizen had been trying to push that boundary from day one, and it seems that he was just doubling in his efforts more and more though you didn’t understand why. Like now, as some people who you remember from a previous charity event start coming up to the two of you, he moves you forward and onto the stuffy dance floor.

“Mr. Baizen, what are you doing?” you ask harshly, unsure of how to move to the steps of such a formal song, while he twirls you keeping one hand on your hip and the other within his free hand’s grasp.   

“Gotta stake my claim,” he states before tapping your heels with his brown loafers, moving you in the correct position to dance, “Everyone knows you’re running the events for me. Rich people always know the value of a good staff.”

“Like you do?” you question, trying your hardest to keep up with his steps but to also not look down.   

“Something like that,” he flashes you a smile, as you are quick to pick up how to move. His smile brightens as he spins you for a moment, completely lost to whoever else might be watching, as you giggle at being able to follow his lead. One song and then two songs pass without the two of you dancing near the back, nobody daring to bother you but watching every move. Carter makes comments here and there about people you don’t know and you can’t help but laugh, each time heartier than before as blue eyes watch you completely mesmerized.  

But, the spell’s has to be broken sometime, as there is a scream followed by the echo of your name in Rocio’s voice. People turn at the sound of splashing as you turn around to look as many partygoers have gone to go see what was happening near the large fountain near the center of the garden. You let go of Carter in worry for your best friend, you turn and give him an apologetic nod.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Baizen,” is all you manage to say before taking off to where Rocio might be, as he eventually loses sight of you through all the people.

“Yeah,” he says as he runs as hand though his face and groans. The warmth of you still sending electricity throughout his very being, and Carter know this feeling all too well -- he had felt it once before, a long time ago.

What the hell was he going to do now?

Part 6 

[nashvilletonihon]

To Stay Or Not To Stay...That Is The Million Dollar Question.

I’m currently sitting at my desk in the Kumihama teacher’s room. It’s Finals Week here so everyone is buzzing around and it sounds like a busy hive of bees. The students already look broken, defeated, tired. It’s been a long couple of weeks for me so I can only imagine what it’s been like for them.

I’m honestly not sure where October and November went. I remember being glad that September was over the minute it became October 1st and then suddenly I was celebrating Halloween with my ESS Club students and then it was November 1st. Now it’s 1 day away from my birthday (which I haven’t even thought about) and then it will be December 1st. 

What. Is. Happening??? 

When I first arrived here I thought time had literally stopped. I was stuck in an endless loop of being unhappy, lonely and sad I was drowning in my own misery. Fast forward to now. November 29th. In two short months I will have to give the JET Program and my contracting schools an answer to the question of whether or not I would like to re-contract. If I say yes, my schools will then have to decide whether or not they want to extend my contract for another year. If they do, I’d be working for them again during another trip around the sun. If they don’t...well, the decision to stay or go will have been made for me.

I’ve talked to my mom and a few close friends about my decision to potentially live in Japan for another year or to move back to the States. My mother encouraged me to make a Pros and Cons list. (Something I’ve always done when faced with major, life-changing decisions.) It’s currently taped to the back of my bedroom door and at the moment, both sides are neck and neck. Neither the Pros nor the Cons have advanced past the other. Hurray for me right? How does a list like that help when they’re dead even?! 

I think about what my life would be like in both scenarios. If I stay for another year I can continue to work toward my (absolutely insane) goal of eventually taking the JLPT N2. It’s an incredibly difficult test for non-native speakers that requires A LOT of work to pass. One of my friends and fellow JET’s is getting ready to take it this Sunday. She studied Japanese for four years in college AND studied abroad here and even she’s worried passing it. I wonder if I could accomplish my goal in another year and a half. If I worked my a** off, I bet I could. I at least want to take and pass the N3. (Which I’m pretty sure I can do.) That being said, if I pass the N2 I could get a job as a translator or interpreter which is something I would really enjoy doing. I could translate anime or manga or work for the government or tourism board in cities like Los Angeles, New York, Chicago, Seattle, etc... Living in Japan for another year would allow me to continue to be exposed to native speakers and Japanese every single day. The minute I move back to America I no longer have that luxury. Even though I’ve only been here for 4 months my comprehension and understanding has grown exponentially. I would be jeopardizing all of the hard work I’ve put in up ‘til now. 

A major Con of continuing to live in Japan is being away from my family and friends for another year. I video chat with my momma every single day and it always pains me to have to talk to her through a phone screen. I miss being able to hop in my car and drive the 2 1/2 hours to Indiana to see her whenever I wanted. Now we constantly have to coordinate when we both have free time to talk. Being 15 hours ahead of her in the States (thaaaaanks Daylight Savings) makes things difficult, but we manage. I miss her hugs. I also struggle a lot with the fact that I am losing out on valuable time with my grandparents. I know they won’t be around forever and the guilt associated with being over here while they continue grow older is more than I can put into words. I know my family is proud of me for following my dreams but that doesn’t make being over here any easier.

Another Con (or Pro depending on how you look at it) is that I have ZERO job prospects moving back to America. Absolutely nothing. In theory I could pick up over hire work in theatre at TPAC, Nash Rep, Studio Tenn or advertise myself as a costume designer (a position I have long had a love/hate relationship with) but to be completely honest, none of that sounds very appealing right now. I’m tired of living paycheck to paycheck and constantly being worried about if I’ll be able to afford rent (we all know how ridiculous it is to live in Nashville now) or make my car payment. Yeah, yeah I know. ‘’That’s what being involved in the arts is all about! You have to suffer for it!’’ Whoever thought that was a good excuse for people to live a stressful, poor lifestyle just so they can follow their passion can shove it. It’s ridiculous we even have to do that in the first place. Yes, I want to act. Yes, it’s my everything. Yes, it’s what I am good at. But I don’t want to constantly have to struggle when I could work toward a job that I can make good money doing while ALSO acting. Is that me selling out to have a secure day job and moonlight as an actor? Maybe. I’ll be 29 on Friday. If I stay another year in Japan I’ll turn 30 here. It’s hard to believe I’m so close to being out of my twenties already. While I feel the proverbial clock ticking when it comes to the stereotypical “old actress” trope, I have to remind myself that most well-known actors didn’t even get started until their mid-30′s. I’ve got time. And being bilingual will look really cool on my resumé.

So what’s another Pro about continuing to live in Japan? Saving more money, yo. Being here for another year means more savings in the bank. It’s a pretty simple concept that would allow me to not freak out about finances when I finally move back to the States. As someone who had an incredible amount of financial stability when I lived in Los Angeles to being left with nothing after I moved to Nashville, financial stability is now incredibly important to me. (I can hear my father slow clapping from 11,000 miles away.) I’m not one for caring about money (never have been) but if I could keep adding to the savings account while also working toward a career that would help me in the long run, I’ll take that option time and time again.

Another Pro I often think about is how many more people can come to visit Japan while I’m here. My Mom, sister (Elizabeth) and friends Taylor and Erica are all coming out to visit me in the months of February and March. If I’m here for another year, even MORE people can come on out to see what this crazy magical country is all about. I think that’s pretty dang cool and am 100% encouraging everyone I know to start looking at flights now. I mean, you’ve got a personal tour guide AND a place to stay!!! What more could you need/want?! 

All in all I have quite a few Pros and Cons on the list. Some of the Cons are dependent on whether or not I can somehow change them into Pros. One example would be the immense distaste I have for my base school. I am there every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Out of those three days I might be fortunate enough to attend (not teach, mind you) 2 classes, possibly 3. Classes are 50 minutes each if we don’t have a special shortened schedule. So out of 3, 8 hour work days, I am maybe seeing the inside of a classroom for less than 3 hours each week. Compare that to my visit school where I am there on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I have 3 or 4 and sometimes 5 classes a day. I am waaaaay happier at my visit school. I found out that I can talk to my scheduling supervisors to potentially get my schedule switched so that my visit school becomes my base school and my base school becomes my visit school. This would drastically improve my outlook on the situation as a whole. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy the other teachers at my base school (even though I don’t really talk to many of them and vice versa) and they’re all incredibly nice people. I just seem to click better with the teachers at my visit school.

Throughout all of the anxiety, worrying, stressing out and continual ‘’Should I or shouldn’t I’s’’, I have to keep telling myself that ultimately, it’s my decision and mine alone. Will it affect the people close to me? Oh, without a doubt. I know my family will hate to have me away for another year. I run the risk of being forgotten in the Nashville theatre and losing another year of shows. I already feel like my career was just beginning to take off and the desire to follow through with that is one of the strongest pulls back home yet. And then again...I have this intense desire to learn Japanese. REALLY learn it. I want to communicate with my friends, co-workers and the people who have helped to make the adjustment to life in Japan a little bit easier. I want to help Americans visit Japan and not be scared to do so because of the language barrier. Trust me when I say that the the people here are more scared to use English than you are to use Japanese.

I have a lot to think about over the next 2 months, but if I’m being completely honest (and I try to be on here), I am about 90% sure I will stay for another year. I don’t think my work in Japan is done yet. I think I can help more students, engage more cultural exchanges, help the current JTE’s teach their classes more efficiently and help infuse fun ways of learning into the mundane textbook lessons. I want to start a pen-pal exchange with the girls in my English Speaking Society Club with students from my aunt’s high school in Indiana. There is so much I want to do...and 8 more months just isn’t enough time to do it all.

Before I end this, it’s important to me that I thank the countless people, both family members and friends, who have listened to my doubts, fears, concerns and indecision about all of this over the past month. Your unwavering support and constant encouragement mean so much to me. I honestly wouldn’t still be here without your love and kindness. I am truly, truly grateful to have each and every one of you in my life, both here and abroad. Y’all the real MVP’s. 

I’m sorry there aren’t any photos in this post. I’m heading to Kyoto City tomorrow for a Skills Conference and will be there all weekend. I’m going sightseeing and Christmas shopping and will be taking lots of photos so I will have plenty to write about come next week. On that note I will wrap this up and say goodbye for now. I keep telling myself I’ll be better at updating and posting and I swear I will start now. Thanks for always being patient with me!!

じゃあまた (See you!)

- レイチェル (Rachel)

[smallmarvel]

Tiny Town

Pairing: Sam Winchester x reader

Summary: While on a hunt, you meet Sam Winchester in a bar. You’d figured it’d be the last you saw of him. You were wrong.

WC: 1.6k

A/N: First Sam fic! I was debating on whether or not to make it smut, but for some reason, I just couldn’t. Oops. Here’s some little season 1 Sam for you!

Warnings: swearing, death, driving while intoxicated (don’t drink and drive kids!!!!!!)

Knocking back another shot, you cursed yourself for having such a high alcohol tolerance. 5 shots in and you still felt nothing. All you wanted to do was take the edge off from today’s hunt. This time, a little girl was killed. You were too late to get the creature that did it. Even though in the back of your mind, you knew that you had ultimately saved more people, you hated yourself for not being able to save her.

All of the sudden, you felt a cold splash that soaked through your clothes immediately. If you weren’t sober before, you sure as hell were now. Turning around, prepared to curse whoever just wasted you 20 bucks, you were cut off by an attractive young man who was apologizing profusely.

“I’m so so sorry, I tripped and I’m sorry,” he stuttered. Damn, were you really that scary?

“I guess it’s alright,” you sighed. You only let him off the hook because he actually seemed sorry. It also helped that he was cute. He had shaggy brown hair that fell just above his brow bone. You took in how tall he was, about 6′4″, and how broad. 

“Please, let me buy you a drink,” he said. You shrugged and turned back towards the bar as he sat down. He flagged down the bartender to order the drink. “So, what’re you doing in town?” he smiled, showing perfectly white teeth. 

“Just a little family business, I’m only staying a few days,” you sipped your drink. He smiled again. “What’re you doing in town? Do you live here?”

“Oh, my brother and I are doing a few odd jobs around town,” he explained. “We don’t stay in one place for too long, sort of like drifters.” You nodded. You understood all too well. You noticed he was drinking just water.

“It’s Friday night, why aren’t you drinking?” You asked. At least your back wouldn’t be sticky later. You didn’t have too many clothes to change into. He pointed to his brother, who was busy getting cosy in the corner with a blonde airhead. He was a bit shorter than Sam, although that wasn’t saying much. He still stood above 6′0″ with a sharp jawline. Their parents must have been gods, you decided. Their genes were too good to be true.

“My brother Dean over there and I flipped a coin like we always do,” he explained. “Loser is designated driver.” After a few more minutes of conversation, you looked at the clock above the bar wall. 11 pm. You had to get up early to flush the nest of the creatures you were in town to kill, and they slept in the early morning. The perfect time to attack and get the rest of the bastards who’d been terrorizing a small family on the outskirts of town. 

“It’s been fun, but I have to get up early tomorrow,” you stood and grabbed your jacket. “Thanks for the drink...” you trailed off, asking for a name. 

“Sam,” he smiled and stood up with you. “What’s your name?” You don’t know why, but you don’t lie and give him one of your many aliases as usual.

“(Y/N),” you smiled back. “Thanks for tonight, Sam.”

“Let me walk you out?” you nodded and he followed you out the door, cursing when he realized that Dean had left him there, no doubt to hook up with the blonde bimbo he’d cornered. He got out his phone. “My damn brother left me again. So much for being designated driver, huh.” 

“I could take you home? It’s really not a big deal, although I’m not sure I’ll have space,” you laughed. “Where are you staying?”

“The motel on fifth,” he answered, typing on his phone.

“Hey, me too!” you said as you opened your saddlebag and pulled out two helmets.

“But you’ve been drinking,” he pointed out, putting his phone away.

“Don’t worry, a couple shots and a martini don’t affect me at all, plus this town is tiny,” you threw him your extra helmet and strapped yours on. “The motel isn’t that far,” His eyes widened.

“Wait, this is yours?” he nodded to your 1968 Triumph Bonneville. You smiled proudly and hopped on.

“Yep, restored her myself,” he buckled on his own helmet and you patted the space behind you. You started the engine and he sat down. He wrapped his arms around your waist as you pulled out of the parking lot, and you blushed. His entire body pressed to yours as you wound through the streets of the small town. He laughed when you drove 30 over the speed limit. His chest rumbled with the laughter and you smiled. When the ride was over, you couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed. 

“Thanks for the ride,” he handed you the helmet, then reached for his motel key. “Shit, Dean has the key, and there’s no way he’s going to answer the door.” he rolled his eyes. You kicked up the parking stand and laughed, putting the helmets back in your saddlebag.

“Do you want to come back to my room for a drink?” you asked. He smiled and nodded, following you to your room. You opened the door, revealing the severely outdated carpeting and appliances. Your one bag lie on the ground. You kicked off your shoes, encouraged Sam to do the same, then flopped face first on the bed. 

The rest of the night, you both just laid on the bed, watched old sitcoms, drank the free booze in your room, and talked. Still, you knew you weren’t drunk, and you knew Sam was no lightweight. You both maintained intellectual conversations about the future, your hopes and dreams, even some of your favourite memories in the past. He was like the best friend you never had. You were incredibly attracted to him, though. It was kind of hard not to be. He had infectious laughter, the kind that boomed and resonated through the room. It was warm and hearty. One that crinkled his eyes and made his head go back. 

Eventually, you both wound down, tired and content. You lie next to each other. You were very aware of the fact that you were touching. He radiated warmth and smelled so damn good. You never could resist a man that wore good smelling cologne. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt this warm and satisfied inside. With the sounds of the tube TV and Sam’s breathing in your ears, you drifted to sleep. 

The sunlight peeking in through the bottom of the blinds woke you up. You were aware of the weight that you bore around your middle. Sam was curled up behind you, spooning you. You closed your eyes blissfully before you remembered the hunt. The only reason you were in town. Your eyes frantically searched for the alarm clock. You read it as 6:30, thanking your lucky stars. 

You slipped out of Sam’s grasp, heading for the door. You looked back at him once more, smiling at how peaceful and cute he looked. You closed the door behind you and walked to your bike. Starting the engine, you pulled out of the parking lot and made your way to the nest. You rehearsed how it would go in your head. You wanted to make them pay after what they’d done to this sleepy town.

You crouched behind the doorframe, watching the creatures as they slept. Your gun was in your hand and your breathing was shaky. No matter how many hunts you would go on, how many creatures you would kill, right before it was go time, you’d choke. Just a little. Just enough to make you hesitate for a few seconds. Nothing major. Nothing that would screw up the mission for you. You were prepared for this. 

What you weren’t prepared for was the movement out of the corner of your eyes and the rustling to your right. Immediately, you pointed your gun at the noise. Sam and Dean walked out with fingers to their lips. “What the hell are you doing here?” you whispered at Sam. 

“What are you doing here?” he whispered back. Dean hit him on the back of the head and held up a finger to his lips once more. They moved so that they had a good look at the nest, right next to you. “I don’t know what you’re doing here, but we’ve got this,” Sam said. You rolled your eyes.

“It’s obvious what I’m doing,” you retorted. “And I’m not just leaving. I have some business to finish with these assholes.” Dean looked at Sam.

“Ohhh, that’s where the lot of them went,” he said. “We were wondering where they’d gone. Good on ya.” You just nodded and turned back to the nest. 

“On three,” Dean said. 

Needless to say, you obliterated the nest. They didn’t even know what hit them. Afterwards, you and Sam and Dean went for breakfast at the only restaurant in town. 

“So you’re a hunter,” Sam asked. He sat across from you, next to Dean who was shoving his face full of eggs. 

“Yeah, what did you think the family business was in this tiny town?” you laughed. “I suppose there aren’t many odd jobs here either, though,” Sam laughed this time.

“Usually I say the family business line, so I panicked,” he took a sip of his coffee. You marvelled at how large his hand was compared to the coffee cup. 

“So where are you going next?” you asked. You’d forgotten how lonely it’s been hunting by yourself. You didn’t expect them to just accept you as a partner, but you hoped you’d at least be invited to one more. You’d all kicked ass together today. It felt pretty damn good. Plus, you’d definitely miss Sam.

“Oklahoma, how about you?” you shrugged. Sam looked at Dean who narrowed his eyes. “Do you want to come along? I don’t know if you have plans or anything, I just figured since we did so well back there-” you laughed, cutting off his rant.

“Yeah, I’d love to.”

[ivarinleatherpants]

ok, OTP questions all of them. Or one through ten. Or one through five. You know what, I don't care. Gimme, I'm desperate.

Whelp, we’ll see how many of these I can get through! XD

1: Who spends almost all their money on the other?

-Ivar. Totally Ivar. He’s the one who has never needed to stick to a budget, and he loves spoiling Gwen with all the nice things she could never afford growing up.

2: Who sleeps in the other’s lap?

-Ivar wants Gwen to sit in his lap more, but she gets worried about hurting his legs. More often, it’s Ivar who ends up falling asleep with his head in her lap while she runs her hand through his hair.

3: Who walks around the house half-naked and who yells at them to put on some clothes?

-Pfft. Ivar, obviously. The second he comes home the shirt comes off. Gwen doesn’t mind so much, but she needs to get stuff done, dammit! She can’t keep getting distracted by the... arms... and... the other muscles... and...

4: Which one tells the other not to stay up all night and which one stays up all night anyway?

-It’s pretty equal. Though Ivar’s the one who’s more likely to actually be out all night. He loves to go to punk concerts or to play with his band, but Gwen doesn’t like the noise and crowds. Sometimes she’ll come pick him up, but a lot of times she just waits for him to come home.

It probably doesn’t help that he always gets very... erm... energetic... after all the adrenaline. Then he comes home with his full punk-regalia on, his makeup all smudged and his hair messy and... yeah...

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?

-Gwen. She’s a competent cook, and can make a decent meal, but she has to have a recipe she can follow or else things can get out of hand. Ivar is just proud of her for trying to go out of her comfort zone, even though she can’t cook a steak to save her life.

6: Which one reads OTP prompts and says “Oh that’s us!” and which one goes “Eh, not really”?

-Ivar doesn’t know what an OTP prompt even is, and teases Gwen horribly for reading fanfiction.

Ivar: *Gleefully* This is straight-up porn, Ging!

Gwen: GIVE THAT BACK THIS MINUTE!

Ivar: Metal arms? Really? Is that your thing, babe? Blue eyes and a bit broken?

Gwen: I’M NEVER SPEAKING TO YOU AGAIN!

7: Which one constantly wears the other’s clothes?

-Gwen totally wears Ivar’s shirts.

It’s unlikely anything but Gwen’s most over-sized ugly sweaters would fit Ivar.

Not that he’s ever tried or anything... but there was that one pair of pants that would have gone SO well with his jacket...

8: Which one spends all day running errands and which one says “You remembered [thing], right?”

-Again, probably equal. Gwen does a lot of the shopping early on, just because-again-Ivar had no clue how to shop frugally. But later on she ends up working at Kattegat U as a research scientist/teacher, and he has Heathen Hotrods so he can stay home with the kids, he ends up running a lot of the errands.

9: Which one drives the car and which one gives them directions?

-Depends. They both like to drive. There are some cars Ivar prefers to drive, but he categorically refuses to drive Gwen’s Subaru Mom-mobile, so it’s a toss-up. It also depends of in one is more tired, or if Ivar’s legs are hurting more than usual.

10: Which one does the posing while the other one draws?

-Gwen is the only one who draws, but she doesn’t do people. Ivar does like to take pictures, though, and has quite the collection *wink wink nudge nudge*.

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?

-Ivar is the backflipper, while Gwen would be following behind, shouting at him to be more careful and STOP doing that he’s going to hurt himself!

12: Which one of your OTP overdoes it on the alcohol and which one makes the other stop drinking?

-Oddly enough, Gwen is probably more likely to overdo it. She doesn’t know her own limits the way Ivar does. He’s good at keeping an eye on her and letting her have fun, but making sure she drinks water and stops before she makes herself really sick.

13: Which one likes to surprise the other with a lot of small random gifts?

-They’re both the sort to get little things just because it makes them think of the other. Ivar probably a little bit more, just because he’s more financially spontaneous. 

14: Which one keeps accidentally using the other’s last name instead of their own?

-Gwen hyphenates when they get married. Ivar proudly introduces them as Dr. and Mr. Wessex-Lothbrok. It gets to the point where he sometimes forgets he didn’t actually change his name. XD

15: Which one screams about the spider and which one brings the spider outside?

-Neither of them are super bothered by spiders. Unless it’s a really big one and it shows up in the shower, then both of them are likely to shriek and cry for help.

16: Which one gives the other their jacket?

-Gwen probably spends more time wearing Ivar’s jackets than he does. She doesn’t even have to indicate that she’s cold, he just has this sort of sixth sense and immediately swoops in like some leather-clad savior.

17: Who keeps getting threatened by the other’s overprotective older sibling?

-I think this is pretty obvious, considering it’s already happened. lol. It’s a long time before Ivar and Aethelred actually start to get along, and even longer before they can really be considered ‘friends’. 

18: Who’s the first one to admit they have feelings for the other?

-Let’s see. Ivar pretty much jumped in head first, but Gwen was the first to say “I love you”. It’s easy for him to be affectionate, but hard for him to talk seriously about his feelings. Whereas Gwen grew up in a family that was much more open about that sort of thing.

19: How good would your OTP be at parenting?

-They both have their strengths and weaknesses. Gwen has less experience with kids, and is pretty uncomfortable with them when she first meets Ivar’s huge family. He’s the one who is the most gung-ho about having kids, but isn’t actually all that into kids that aren’t his own.

With their kids, Ivar is really good at handling the not-so-serious stuff, the tantrums over silly things that Gwen has a hard time being patient with. But it’s really hard for him if one of his kids is really hurt, whereas Gwen is very good at remaining calm during crises. 

20: Which one types with perfect grammar and which one types using numbers as letters?

-They’re both grammar Nazis, and mock Alfred for using numbers and other text shorthand.

21: Who gets attacked by a bully and who protects them?

-They will both come in, guns blazing, if someone tries to hurt the other. They even aggressively defend each other against themselves. Self-deprecation is met with physical assaults with deadly plushies.

22: Who makes the bad puns and who makes a pained smile every time the other makes a pun?

-Ivar makes ALL the bad puns, and is SO happy when he’s finally able to legitimately use dad humor. Gwen pretends to cringe, but she actually thinks he’s really funny.

23: Who comes home from work to see that the other one bought a puppy?

-Gwen has come home to find a new animal many times. Many, many times. Once it was a daschaund puppy that had lost all it’s fur (Napoleon), another time it was a mini horse in their shed. Ivar argues that he tried to say ‘no’, but the kids insisted.

Ivar: No guys, we aren’t adopting the horse.

Judah (a.k.a Ivar Jr.): *Slapping his little four-year-old hand down emphatically* Daddy! He needs a famiwy!

Alyssa (a.k.a Gwen Jr): *Two and already running the world with an iron pout* Pony! Pony!

24: Which one gives the other a piggyback ride when they’re tired?

-Ivar: Are you tired? Wanna ride on my back?

Gwen: No.

Ivar: Giiing! C’moooon!

Gwen: No! Your legs are already going to be hurting from all this walking!

Ivar: Ging, get over her and let me carry you!

Gwen: No, you can’t make me!

*Continues, ad infinitum.*

25: Which one competes in some sort of activity and which one does the overzealous cheering?

-Ivar is more likely to play a sport, but really, he’s the shameless fanboy. Gwen’s maybe tried to leave him at home once or twice when she’s getting an award of some kind, because he makes that bad of a ruckus.

26: Who takes a selfie when the other one falls asleep on their shoulder?

-Ivar. He just can’t get enough of his cutie-patootie. Gwen protests that her drooling isn’t cute, and if he doesn’t delete that right now, so help her...

27: Which one would give the other a makeover if they asked?

-Also Ivar. The few times Gwen’s gone with him to a show, she lets him give her a full punk makeover. Just in general he likes to pick out her clothes. He may know the contents of her closet slightly better than she does.

28: Which one owns a pet that the other is absolutely terrified of?

-Neither of them is really afraid of the other’s pet, but Gwen is deeply suspicious of Napoleon on occasion. She’s sure he’s not as innocent as he looks, especially considering the number of times he’s conned Ivar into letting him sleep in their bed.

29: Which one holds the umbrella over both of them when it rains?

-Ivar has a strong streak of chivalry, hammered into him since birth by Aslaug. She taught him how to behave in high society, and there’s certain things that he still does on instinct.

30: If your OTP went on vacation, where would they go and what would they do? Who would take the pictures?

-They’re both homebodies to a certain extent, so they wouldn’t be constantly travelling, but they’d still like to visit other countries. Especially Ivar, who loves history. They probably take a couple trips every year. Gwen plans out the itinerary and makes Ivar stick to it despite his tendency to wander off. They like to see historical sites and go to museums. Probably a good mix of exciting stuff like amusement parks, and just chilling in a nice hotel somewhere scenic.

Ivar, of course, brings two or three cameras along and uses all of them.

[bibliophilicwitch]

Alright, enough of you would like to see my likely long rambly post about my 3-day weekend away so let’s do this.

About a month ago a friend of mine connected with me and asked if I would be interested in a girls’ weekend because there’s a loud music festival that happens practically in her backyard every year and she didn’t want to be in town for it. This friend lives in Appleton nearly 2 hours away from me and we rarely have reasons to be in each others’ neck of the woods anymore so I don’t really visit with her much anymore. So when she asked I really wanted to say yes, but she just so happened to be suggesting a 3-day trip the same month as my 6-day vacation to travel to North Dakota to see family and attend my cousin’s wedding. We planned a budget accordingly and I just gotta be conscious of money the next couple of weeks.

The music started on Thursday and ideally we would’ve left town that evening, but I ended up being scheduled to work until 9 PM closing time at the pharmacy that night… of course. We had plans already scheduled for midday on Friday, so I had to pack everything before work and then left immediately from work for my nearly 2 hour drive and arrived at her house at about 11 PM. I listened to some of the first campaign of Critical Role - time well spent.

So our Friday morning was spent running a few errands and finishing prep to leave Appleton before heading out to Milwaukee including running her pup to a friends’ house, getting groceries, and picking up coffee to fortify ourselves. We headed out around 11 AM I think and arrived early for our massage in a Milwaukee suburb with time to spare. It was my first massage and it was pretty good other than too much on my neck which led to a light headache. I really should’ve said that it was hurting too much, but I wasn’t sure if it would or would not be beneficial as I had never had a professional massage before.

Our hotel was in Wauwautosa and we arrived a good two hours before check in so we went and got food at Dave and Busters which, for those that don’t know, is an arcade for adults - meaning there is a bar. It was fun, but 3 of the 5 games we played didn’t work correctly or at all and then it was time to head out. Kinda wish we had had the opportunity to go back for another hour since I had plenty of credits still and would’ve really liked to play Mario Kart and check out one or two more games. I did play a Star Wars game with the wrap around screen which was pretty wicked cool.

That evening, after we checked into our hotel and washed off our oils from the massage, we went to a suburb to participate in a Paint and Sip class - this one was a paint your pet class and they even had little gift bags with goodies for you pet. I picked a picture of Binx that was low lighting which they oversaturated so you could see both his eyes, but since they oversaturated the picture he no longer looked like a true black and white tuxedo but like he had shades of grey and black all over which would not have been my kitty. Since I was not following the picture exactly it was proving impossible to distinguish his features, so I gave up and just used my time to fill in the areas I knew I could and plan to ask another of my friends, who works with me for the library Paint & Sip classes, to help me finish it some time. No idea when that may actually happen since she is super busy, but I have plans that meant I was okay with my experience. Not thrilled since it was a $35 class not including our wine, but eh. Meanwhile my friend was frustrated because even though she asked a few times for help with colors she never got close enough to be happy with her picture. On top of that she had chosen a picture of her goofy dog with his tongue lolling out of his mouth, but they CUT OFF HIS TONGUE and then didn’t make the picture as large as they could’ve so she had a lot of negative space. She was unimpressed to say the least. At least our wine was good. Really the class should’ve had prerequisites such as having participated in their other classes to be sure customers would get the best out of their experience. They did see that I had not finished and were offering a free session to join their free paint classes for help finishing… which we couldn’t do since we both live too far away (in my case a good 4 hours). I do really wish it had been a more standard paint class with the fast blended background and straightforward foreground. Ah well.

We finished day one at the Cheesecake Factory, a first for me! My friend commented that she was never very impressed by their food and she wasn’t surprised do be unimpressed yet again (though I didn’t mind my food at all), but we finished off with cheesecake, obviously, and that was delicious. Unfortunately I forgot my leftover cheesecake at her house in Appleton.

Saturday was our busiest day. We started at the Milwaukee Public Museum which was excellent though it really is a whole day affair not the two hour filler we planned for it. About halfway through my friend started to get anxious about her car and concerned it had a ticket or had been towed and I think she was also just getting tired of being on her feet. I think I was overall more interested in the exhibits too and she seemed to only be truly interested in specific things. I’m also a reader and wanted to actually read some of the shit while she just breezed through exhibit after exhibit. Like I said, we really didn’t have the time, but it was disappointing to be rushed so much.

Then we went downtown to The Safe House which she had wanted to check out. She did not realize it was literally right downtown and there was some anxiety, but we made it! For those that have not heard of Safe House, it’s a restaurant where the servers are in-character as secret agents and guests are also secret agents. There is a password to get in and if you don’t know it you have to prove you aren’t a spy by acting out some silliness. The interior is a wild and zany pieced together hodgepodge with references to spies in popular culture. Guests are given a list of missions (clues) to wander about and try to figure out the password. If you figure it out you are able to get a discount on their merchandise.

It was more confusing than my friend was expecting and not as engaging as she had expected either. She was pretty sure she figured it out, but neither of us were really worried about the merchandise, so we just didn’t even bother. They had a pen listed that we both kinda wanted, but they didn’t have any in stock.

After that we went to the North Point Lighthouse which is a lighthouse museum and I really enjoyed that little attraction. After that we finally headed back to the hotel for a short break and to get bandages because she wore strappy shoes that were trying to eat her feet. We discovered there was some sort of convention going on so the hotel was packed and TOO busy for only two slow elevators.

Next we went to Water2Wine, a winery in a suburb that imports their grapes and then makes their own wines in house. It was cute and pretty decent, but we weren’t overly impressed tbh. Next door to the winery was a Half Priced Books which my friend suggested instead of going to Barnes and Noble in the mall. So we wandered around, which was the first time I’d been to a Half Priced Books, but she got bored relatively quickly and dragged me out well before I would’ve like saying I could go to Barnes and Noble instead and then if she got bored she could wander the mall. So then we ended up at the mall and I was ready to settle into browsing for nearly an hour before wandering around the rest of the mall until close, but again she dragged me out likely because it isn’t that fun to wander by yourself. I did pick up a book at both places, Of Fire and Stars and Spinning Silver. I could’ve stayed in the bookstore all evening and likely only bought the one book, but nooooo, I ended up in the game store and bought an expensive gorgeous metal dice set. Pft. I also bought macarons which I had never been able to try and the ones I got were disappointingly too sweet for me to enjoy. We were both ready to be done, so we grabbed Chipotle, another first for me, and just curled up with a little TV before bed.

Sunday we got brunch at the ludicrously hipstery Cafe Hollanders. Very good and excellent atmosphere, but I couldn’t get over how chique it was being. The cafe was located in this ritzy area filled with high end stores that neither of us could afford, but we wandered around and gawped at insane prices before heading out to the Milwaukee County Zoo which I have WAAAY too many picture of to share here, so just check out my Instagram. I mentioned a few times, because I was seeing merchandise, that we hadn’t seen the red panda and my friend said she thought it might be a seasonal exhibit. After I was home I checked… it wasn’t. We literally missed it and I kinda wanna cry tbh.

We left Milwaukee around 4 and I ended up home around 7:30, but I tossed some gas in my car, washed it, and ran to the grocery store first so idk exactly how long my drive was. Though not everything was amazing I still had a pretty damn good time, my friend on the other hand seemed to get bored and/or impatient and/or disappointed/frustrated on a regular basis and I swear she didn’t enjoy the trip nearly as well as I did which just makes me sad. I also realized that since the last time we had really hung out we have both changed. Whereas I am online a lot and am fairly socially conscious she was not and she made a few borderline racist jokes (okay, not really borderline at all). Nothing nasty, just those ingrained stereotype jokes that are just not funny when you recognize how hurtful they can be. It also became more apparent that our interests do not overlap much at all. Which is another post to ramble about later. I loved the lighthouse and the zoo and wish I could’ve had just a bit more bookstore time and arcade time. It was nice to get out of town and not think about work while getting to catch up with an old friend though.

[dipulb3]

2021 BMW X5 xDrive45e review: More power, more range, more tech

New Post has been published on https://appradab.com/2021-bmw-x5-xdrive45e-review-more-power-more-range-more-tech-2/

2021 BMW X5 xDrive45e review: More power, more range, more tech

The optional M Sport pack adds these 21-inch wheels.

Emme Hall/Roadshow

A plug-in hybrid is the perfect vehicle for someone who wants a little EV goodness, but isn’t ready to make the fully electric commitment. Maybe you want electric power for around-town commuting and errand-running, but you need the convenience and added range of a gas engine for longer drives. If that sounds like you and luxury SUVs are your thing, allow me to introduce you to the BMW X5 xDrive45e.

Like

30 miles of all-electric range

Nicely appointed cabin

Don’t Like

Cargo space falls behind competition

Two-row seating only

The new 45e is an upgraded version of the xDrive40e BMW previously offered. It offers more range than before — as much as 30 miles thanks to a 24-kilowatt-hour battery — while packing a more powerful punch, as well. Where the 40e had a 2.0-liter turbocharged four-cylinder engine, the 45e gets a 3.0-liter turbo I6. Total output is rated at a healthy 389 horsepower and 443 pound-feet of torque — big increases over the 308 hp and 332 lb-ft from the older 40e PHEV. Power gets down to all four wheels through an eight-speed automatic transmission.

There are six drive modes to choose from, ranging from super-efficient to performance-above-all. Electric mode is for pure EV driving and only available when there’s a charge in the battery. Eco Pro maximizes efficiency, while Hybrid blends gasoline and electric power for the easiest everyday driving. Sport puts everything on full attack and will allow the X5 xDrive45e to sprint to 60 mph in 5.3 seconds. Adaptive will, uh, adapt to your driving style and alter the X5’s parameters on the go. Finally, there’s Individual, where you can have it your way and set everything to your liking.

An air suspension allows for either a comfortable or firm ride quality depending on your preference, and can raise or lower the X5 1.6 inches above or below its standard 8.3-inch ground clearance. The plug-in hybrid X5 is about 800 pounds heavier than a base X5 xDrive40i, and I can definitely feel the weight with the body’s added roll while cornering. But with the suspension set to sport mode, the extra torque from the electric motor pushing me out of turns and the eight-speed transmission working seamlessly in the background, the xDrive45e is still pretty darn fun to drive.

My test car has the optional M Sport package, which adds 21-inch wheels and all-season run-flat tires. These specific tires are a little too hard to provide substantial grip and the low profile means the ride quality is often harsh. The standard 19-inch non-run-flat wheel-and-tire package would undoubtedly improve everything. If you really want a sporty X5, maybe skip the PHEV altogether and check out the V8-powered M50i.

The turbo I6 engine and electric motor produce a combined 389 hp and 443 lb-ft of torque.

Emme Hall/Roadshow

The X5 only has a 3.7-kW onboard charger, so while the battery itself isn’t huge, BMW says it’ll take about 4 hours to charge up to 80% on a Level 2 outlet. If you want the full 100%, you’re looking at 5 hours and 20 minutes. If you have an EV charger at home and can plug in the X5 overnight, this won’t be a problem.

The X5 45e comes with plenty of standard driver-assistance features including blind-spot monitoring, lane-departure warning and front- and rear-collision warning. If you want things like adaptive cruise control or BMW’s Traffic Jam Assist that combines the ACC tech with lane-centering capabilities, you’ll have to pay extra. Ditto the front cross-traffic alert, which is very helpful when trying to pull out onto a road where cars are parked along the curb, obscuring your view of traffic. If you live in a city like San Francisco where everyone has to park on the street, you’ll find it very useful.

Inside, a 12.3-inch reconfigurable gauge cluster displays every iota of information you could ever need to know about your X5, while the iDrive 7 infotainment system is housed on a second screen of the same size. I personally find iDrive to have a steep learning curve, littered with menus and submenus that could pretty easily be combined, but at least it’s quick to respond to my inputs and the graphics are crisp and clear. Wireless Apple CarPlay and Android Auto are standard, too. That said, iDrive has a frequent tendency to disconnect from CarPlay while I’m on the go and using a wireless connection.

There’s a ton of tech inside the X5.

Emme Hall/Roadshow

Front passengers have access to wireless device charging, one USB-A port and a 12-volt outlet. There’s a USB-C port in the center armrest and rear passengers get two USB-C outlets embedded in the front seatbacks. There’s another 12-volt outlet for backseat riders and a third 12-volt plug in the cargo area, too.

Because the hybrid battery is positioned in the floor of the SUV, cargo space is pretty much the same as a standard X5, but it’s still not great. Behind the second row you’ll find 33.1 cubic feet of space, expanding to 56.5 cubes when folded. That’s less than the Lincoln Aviator, Land Rover Range Rover Sport and Volvo XC90. If you need three rows of seats, stick to the full gas-powered X5 variants or look at the Aviator or Range Rover Sport.

My tester has a white interior, which makes for a sharp contrast with the silver-and-black textured trim. The glass shifter adds a touch of over-the-top luxury and the standard heated front seats are a boon for my bottom. Ventilated and massaging front seats are available, as well, if you’re willing to spend a bit more cash (I am). In all, the X5 is a very comfortable, if starkly designed, place to spend day-to-day life.

The X5 might not be the most spacious SUV, but it’s one of the better to drive.

Emme Hall/Roadshow

The X5 xDrive45e starts at $66,395 including $995 for destination, and the one you see here costs $81,695. I’d definitely skip the M Sport package but would add all the driver-assistance features, massaging seats, heated armrests and upgraded leather. In other words, you can get a really nicely optioned X5 PHEV in the low- to mid-$70,000 range, no problem.

The 2021 BMW X5 xDrive45e is a great option for those who want to dip their toes in the electrification pool. It might be slightly smaller inside than some competitors, but with its good on-road manners and tons of luxury and tech, it’s one of the best all-around luxury PHEVs you can buy.

[purplesurveys]

1049

survey by lets-make-surveys

1 - Who was the last person to give you a gift? What was the reason for it? My manager, Bea. She had a box of cream cheese buns delivered to my place last Wednesday as a Christmas gift. I’ve honestly personally been having a difficult time around her since she tends to sound just a teeny bit mean in our Viber conversations, but when I met her in person last Friday she turned out to be extremely nice. Her sending over a gift cemented that sentiment for me. It’s just the way she types, I guess.

2 - Are you a good cook? If so, who taught you? What’s your favourite thing to cook? I don’t consider myself a cook in any sense of the word. If I do learn how to cook one day, the dish I’d want to be known for is something complex and can be enjoyed by a large group, like paella.

3 - When was the last time something in your house broke? Did you manage to fix it or did you need to buy a replacement? Nothing too big. It was probably just one of our lightbulbs. Yeah, my parents have those replaced fairly quickly.

4 - Is any part of your body hurting right now? What caused that pain? My lower back as usual because I always put myself in the shittiest positions/postures. I can also feel a mild headache coming in from my right temple. I cannot wait for this week to be over, holy shit.

5 - Do you have anything exciting planned for the upcoming weekend? I’ll have to do some more Christmas shopping because last Sunday I wore the wrong pair of shoes, got a couple of blisters which made it hurt to walk, and was unable to get more gifts than I had planned for that day. I suppose gift shopping is exciting; I love days where I get to take myself out.

6 - If you could spend two weeks in any city in the world, which city would you pick and why? If the pandemic isn’t an issue, New York. I feel like I need to get lost in a really loud, busy, bright, this-city-never-sleeps kind of environment for a while.

7 - When was the last time you tripped or fell in public? if there was nobody around to see you, did you still feel embarrassed? Oh this is tricky. I haven’t been out much so I haven’t embarrassed myself like this in public in a while. I do remember tripping somewhere, but to save face I made the extra effort to look annoyed with myself and to immediately get back to texting, lol. I think it was in school, but I’m really not 100% sure.

8 - The last time you made a sandwich, what did you put in there? An egg sandwich spread that my mom added a twist to by adding crabsticks. Turned out surprisingly very well, and now I ask her to add crabsticks whenever she’s in the mood to make a stock of egg sandwich spread.

9 - How many hours sleep did you get last night? Was that enough for you or could you have slept for longer? I think it might’ve been 8? which technically should be enough; but work is really tiring. I never feel well-rested enough no matter how long I was able to sleep for.

10 - What’s your favourite time of day? What’s your favourite thing to do at that time? 6 PM, because it’s the end of my shift. My favorite thing to do is for sure closing my tabs and windows related to work.

11 - Where did you go the last time you left your house? I went to Feliz - for the first time since March - and did some Christmas shopping for a couple of my cousins, and then I stayed at Starbucks.

12 - Are you tired right now? Will you be going to bed anytime soon? I’m tired, but I’m not going to bed yet as it’s only 6:45 PM and I’ve yet to eat dinner, anyway. I’ll probably start sleeping by a little after 10, as usual.

13 - How many times a week do you get takeaway coffee, if you get it at all? It’s kinda unnecessary these days considering I work from home. I can see myself going to the Starbucks drive-thru 2-3 times a week for coffee if I regularly went to the office, though.

14 - What radio station do you listen to the most? They’re local and you wouldn’t know about them, but I typically switch between 93.1 and 99.5.

15 - If you eat steak, how do you like it cooked? What sauces or sides do you like to go with it? Rare to medium rare is fine; as long as I can still see the blood oozing from it. Mashed potatoes is a great side.

16 - Do you prefer sweet or savoury pancakes? What toppings do you have on them? Sweet. I’ve never encountered savory pancakes, actually; what are those like? :o I usually put maple syrup, peanut butter, and whipped cream on mine. It’s my waffles that I prefer to be savory, since I like eating fried chicken with them.

17 - Are you someone who cracks their joints a lot? Which one(s) do you tend to crack and click the most? I can only do so on my fingers and ankles, so I crack and twist those whenever they start to feel tense.

18 - Have you ever taken medication or tablets to help you sleep? is this something you do on a regular basis? No. I don’t have a lot of trouble falling asleep...it’s staying in sleep I have a trouble with, actually. Nightmares are a regular occurence now, which has meant it’s been a while since I’ve looked forward to going to bed. It’s pretty dumb and childish but most of my dreams have been happy, past scenarios with my ex. It feels like heaven while I’m in those dreams, but I cry uncontrollably as soon as I wake up which is why as happy as those dreams are I still categorize them as nightmares haha. It sucks.

19 - For you, what’s the worst thing about getting up in the morning? What about the worst thing about going to bed tonight? I’m handling one client who has been a gigantic pain in the ass ever since they onboarded with us, and they make work a dreadful experience for me every morning. When it comes to going to bed, like I said, the nightmares aren’t fun to go through. The happier they are, the emptier I feel upon waking up.

20 - Do you prefer regular or diet soft drinks? Never been interested in soft drinks, though the few times I tried to drink some I do remember taking a preference to diet versions.

21 - What do you tend to wear if you’re just hanging about the house for the day? I just go with a comfy cotton t-shirt and a pair of shorts. I might start to wear socks more often as it’s begun to feel a lot colder these days, too.

22 - When was the last time you dyed your hair? Did you do it yourself or get it done at a hairdresser? I’ve never had my hair dyed, but I’d love to try it soon. I’ll definitely have it done at a hair salon as I cannot trust myself with things like hair dye and bleach.

23 - Does having to wear a mask stop you doing things? Is this because you struggle wearing one or you just don’t like it? It makes it a little difficult to breathe and mine and everyone’s sentences gets super muffled, but it’s such a tiny thing to complain about when wearing a mask keeps you and everyone safe. I’d rather ask someone to repeat what they said multiple times than have either of us test positive for the virus.

24 - Have you ever witnessed a car accident? Or have you perhaps been involved in one yourself? Were you at fault? I have never seen a car crash as it happened in real time, but of course I’ve witnessed a lot of aftermaths. I’ve been in a few (either on my own or with my family), but all have been very minor accidents.

25 - When was the last time you baked a cake? What cake was it? Like 6th grade, for home economics. It was a rainbow cake from when that was a thing in 2010.

26 - Do you like wearing bows or accessories in your hair? They’re cute; I just don’t care much for them enough to want to buy a bunch of hair bows and clips.

27 - How many books do you read in a year? Do you enjoy reading or do you have to really force yourself to sit down and read? I will read a handful of wrestling memoirs in a year. I grew out of the hobby a long time ago, which I find really sad because reading was my happy place as a kid and served as comfort from when I used to be a loner in school. I keep saying I’ll get back to it someday, but it never happens and I don’t want to attempt making promises anymore.

28 - If you have pets, where did they come from? A breeder, a rescue or maybe a friend who bred their pet? We got Kimi from my grandma, who had a dog that recently gave birth to puppies. Mom got Cooper from a breeder. As much as I feel bad about it as I’ve always been a proponent of adopt don’t shop, I’m also glad because Cooper is guaranteed a happy life and future with us. Arlee was adopted from PAWS.

29 - Do you make your bed every morning when you get up? I’ve been awful at being consistent with it. So no, I don’t really.

30 - When was the last time you got takeaway food? Was it good? Dad got us Jollibee for dinner last night, and hell yes it was good.

[weeklyfangirl]

Frat Boy Pt. 9

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6,  part 7 (1), part 7 (2), part 8

IT’S BEEN TOO LONG FRATTY FRIENDS! Literally - Six. Months. Or longer. Here’s the RECAP if you need to catch up on your infuriating frat boy shenanigans in a fun and easy fashion! It’s been a while, and we’re learning about Harry now… be fragile with him. As always, please tell me your thoughts after reading! It takes a moment but when I feel people are involved in this project it motivates me to continue with it. Anyways, I’ve already kept you waiting long enough…Thank you for sticking with us. ENJOY! xx

18 Morning View Drive

Coast Hills, CA

Then, exactly an hour and thirty minutes later:

7 pm.

Those were the only things Harry had texted you. Just the address.

“I don’t even know if I want to go anymore,” you whined, looking at your phone once more before tossing it on the bed. “He clearly hates me and doesn’t want me to go.”

“I thought you told me he said you could though!”

“Only because it sounded like he had to! His sister was practically forcing the words out of him.”

Renny cringed. “Sister…Yeah I’m sorry, I’m still not over it.” You groaned at the reminder and she sighed in response. “Okay listen, just be yourself! Try not to hate him.” You felt your eyebrows rise higher than hairline.

“And this is coming from a girl who loathes him more than her entire being?”

She rolled her eyes. “I just think he’s an entitled asshole, but you clearly don’t otherwise you wouldn’t be going to the dinner. Now, nude pump or suede bootie?” She held up the two shoes she was gracious enough to let you borrow and you bit the inside of your cheek. You did think he was an entitled asshole, but… you were curious. So undeniably curious and how many girls could say they went over to a family dinner at the Styles’ house? Not that that was your primary reason for going but…

“Uh, Y/N?” she prompted.

“Bootie,” you said quickly, snapping yourself out of further self-analysis.  You weren’t sure if you liked the boy, but you were definitely… interested. Renny went to the closet and came back with two dresses.

You shook your head.

“What do you mean?”

“They’re a little…fancy.” You bit your tongue, not allowing ridiculous to form. You shook your head.

“Yeah it’s a family dinner. Jeans will be fine,” you reasoned. You plucked your favorite denim from the drawers and Renny gasped as if you’d smacked her across the face. “And a t-shirt,” you added with a smirk. She gasped louder and clutched her chest.

“No no no no no. No!” She raised her finger to you, stalking to the closet again, the cocktail dresses abandoned to the floor. “If you’re wearing these booties you’re at least wearing a blouse. God, who are you?” She plucked a peachy top and a blazer from the inside of the closet, but you snatched the blazer from her hands and put it back on the hanger, opting for the cream sweater instead.

“I want to be comfortable, not looking like I’m going to a business meeting ya dingas.” She snorted at the term and you pulled her in for a hug, clinging to her for a moment. She always seemed so soft and you weren’t sure if it was the Victoria’s Secret body lotion she used or if she was just blessed with naturally smooth skin.

“Renny?” you mumbled against her chest, arms still securely wrapped around her.

“Yeah?”

Your mind raced with hundreds of questions. What were you doing? Was this absolutely stupid? How do you know if you like someone?

“Your boobs are comfy,” you finally sighed. You knew she couldn’t possibly give you explanations for any single one of those things. She wasn’t exactly a love guru, but she was entirely the best at texting and the art of flirting.

“Thanks. Niall thinks so too.” You squeezed her tighter before it registered what she’d said. “Gross,” you mumbled, letting go with a laugh.  You only let her put the bare minimum makeup on you and she was just finishing up with a coat of mascara when there was a knock on the door. She stopped.

“I thought you said he wasn’t going to pick you up.”

You shook your head. “He isn’t. I’m driving.” Renny paused, listening, as if she’d be able to hear what was going on just beyond the door. The mascara wand was set on the bathroom countertop and she crept to the door. You weren’t under any illusions that he would swing by your place beforehand so you weren’t going to bother wasting precious energy on “what-if”s, though your heart still picked up its pace in expectation. The door creaked open at the last swish of the mascara wand.

“Niall?”

Expectations you didn’t want in the first place fell when you heard her voice raise in pitch. Of course it wasn’t Harry.

“What’re you doing here?”

“Thought I’d stop by.” His satisfaction at having surprising her was evident in his smug tone and you tip-toed out, not having had a proper one-on-one with Niall since the night of the party.

“You alone?” he whispered to her.

You saw Renny shake her head before you took a step out. A bit of guilt hit you thinking about the spontaneous kiss, but it was so long ago. I mean, you were going to Harry’s house tonight and Niall just came for some one-on-one time with Renny. At this point the kiss just seemed…a bit irrelevant. Renny faced you as if to gesture “see! Not alone” and his blue eyes focused on you as if nothing had changed. But then they did.

“Oh, hey Y/N, what’re you doing here?” he shrugged and shifted his weight. Renny was oblivious to the awkward shift.

“Um, I live here?” you crossed your arms, brows furrowing a bit.

He thought it over but for a second before he shook his head, lips quirking up in their innocent schoolboyish charm. “Right. Must be tired or somethin’.”

“Or somethin’” Renny teased. Niall poked her sides and she twisted out of reach, only leaning back again to smack him playfully across the chest.

“Alright love birds, I’m headed out. I’ll see you later.”

“Bye then,” Niall said, arm already sneaking around Renny’s waist. She mouthed an “OMG” to you at his display of affection while you tried not to vom. But when the door closed shut you couldn’t help but think about how natural it seemed for his arm to wrap around her waist.

—–

“OH GEE, THANKS for putting on your BLINKER - not. ASSHOLE!” you shouted, almost wishing your window was down and that the pompous senior citizen wearing ray bans at night could hear you. Since you were a decent and intelligent human being you put on your blinker and switched lanes, trying to follow Siri. Grandpa was driving a Porsche and he cut you off only to go 5 miles per hour. Your 1990 Chevy Cavaleir was driving faster than that and he thinks he can cut you off just because he has a better- you exhaled hard through your nostrils.  No. He wasn’t worth it.  You’d left in plenty of time, 30 minutes early actually, even though it’d only take about 20 to get there.

The only problem was your phone was verifiably ancient and your navigation was the slowest thing known to man. Once you’d gotten off the freeway, you’d made three wrong turns because your navigation was being ditzy and not telling you how close 600 feet was. And now the entitled drivers of Coast Hills decided you’d be okay with them cutting! you! off! Your hands squeezed the steering wheel a little too tight.

The ocean hugged your side on the highway for another five minutes, but each glimpse you tried to steal to it was futile. It was dark, an expansive pitch-black body stretching as far as your eyes- well, couldn’t see. It left you with a chilling feeling as you turned up the winding hills to the mansions waiting at the top. They were nestled all along the drive up, though hidden by hedges and various gates, and at the very tops all you could see were their lights already glistening, making the hills twinkle with light. Perhaps tonight they could see the water better from their perch above, but a part of you doubted it. No matter which way you tried to look at it, darkness somehow refused to be penetrated.

But you bet it looked gorgeous when the sun came up.

In 200 feet, make a right on Coast Hills Drive.

“Shit,” you cursed, quickly getting in the right lane and ignoring the honk of a horn. You didn’t have time to put on your blinker and as soon as you slammed on the accelerator to turn, you were slamming on the brakes. The iron gates were intimidatingly high and the guard that hopped out of his security room didn’t look amused. A mounted sign read “Coast Homes” behind a trickling waterfall that fell against a stone wall and massive palm trees stood beside it. And then there was you.

A knock on your window practically had you jumping out of your skin.

“Are you lost?” the guard asked. It looked as if his mouth was already open to give you directions, hands raising to point you someplace else, but you shook your head.

“No, not lost.” And his mouth closed at your words, hands quickly dropping to his sides and confirming your suspicions.

“Are you here to see someone then?” he prompted.

“Harry. Uh, Harry Styles.” A slight buzz ran through you saying those words. You were here to see him. You were actually invited to the Harry’s house. Oh god, what if you saw his bedroom?

His eyes narrowed a bit at the name.

“I mean, I’m here to see his family?” you suddenly clarified. As if it were necessary. As if he wouldn’t believe that you were here to see him alone. It didn’t make it much more believable though.

“What’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

He looked to the back of your car to check the license plate and you felt a twinge of annoyance. “Pull up then.” He used two fingers to beckon you forward before quickly jogging to the security room. You stopped closer to the gate and he scrolled through the computer with a furrowed brow, clucking when he found your name. “You’re here.” But it sounded like “wish you weren’t.” The heavy mechanics of the printer and a dull screech sounded as something printed, and he plucked a sheet of paper from the machine, holding it out to you.

“This is your pass. It’ll last until tomorrow in case you spend the night so don’t worry about tickets or anything like that as long as this is properly displayed on your dash.” He tapped your windshield as if you weren’t aware where your dash was located and you smiled.

“Thank you, it’ll only be for a few hours- tops.”

He nodded and then, as if you were old friends and he was admitting you into a secret club of his, said quietly, “Their visitors don’t usually last too long.” He straightened up instantly, his moment of gossiping weakness vanished with his once-again professional posture. He gave you a nod. “Have a good night!” The gate opened and you called out a quick thank you before entering the most brilliant display of wealth you’d ever seen.

Lawns were perfectly manicured as you passed, some opting for Mediterranean fashions and others expansive Spanish villas with imported tropical plants. Most cars you assumed were inside of the mansions in their garages, but the ones that weren’t inside weren’t any less impressive. “Ferrari, Porsche, oh! Tesla,” you muttered. It was like all the fancy cars you’d ever seen in passing on the highway had the same destination. Here. You stopped counting how many you saw on your hand when you got to 14. And the houses… they were the largest you’d ever seen. They were more like hotels than mere houses.

You’d seen glimpses from below, and recalled the many times you’d stare up at them dreamily on late night cruises to get back home from work, the lights beautifully transforming the hilltops and making you feel like it was an early Christmas. From below you seemed to forget how massive they would be in person.  How they hinted at lives being lived just out of reach. Staring at them up close now, you somehow felt they were even more so.

Make a right on Morning View Drive, then, in 500 feet, your destination is on your right.

You swallowed hard despite yourself as you turned right, suddenly thinking that Renny’s idea of a dress wasn’t that ridiculous of an outfit. But it was too late now, especially when you drove down a street just as manicured as the rest, but somehow seemed wider. The streets alone…They were about twice- no, three times the size of your own in width. And the houses were separated far from each other, far enough that one property easily took up the space of four large houses. You tried to zero in on the numbers along the houses – only to realize they were hidden. By gates. More gates? What were they hiding in there, the Crown jewels?

Your destination is on your right.

Your body jolted forward as your twitchy legs hit the brakes too hard and your car started drifting forward again as your foot relaxed.

Another jolt to stop before you ran into the mailbox.

You couldn’t see a number, but you didn’t think you had too. Forget the other houses - this was the largest home you’d ever seen, fitting for how well known the Styles family was. It was a Spanish Mediterranean style mansion with golden lanterns adorning windows and balconies…and this was just what you could see from what was rising above the iron gate surrounding the property. It sat prominently in the middle of the street, both intimidating and more striking than any of its neighbors, and the largest too – your gaze ran all the way down the gate; it took up the rest of the street until the end of the hill where it’d drop off into a deep valley and eventually run straight into the ocean. You’d seen that view from the highway a thousand times, but it was different to be on the other side of it now. You knew the Styles were rich, but you didn’t think they owned an entire coastal hilltop.  

You awkwardly repositioned the car and drove up to the callbox, but paused, looking to your purse hesitantly. Should you just call Harry on his cell? You rolled your eyes and leant out to press the little call button and the buzz that instantly droned in the air made your hand recoil in a snap and left your mouth suddenly very dry. This was real. This was happening.

Awesome.

You swallowed hard, trying to convince yourself you shouldn’t peel out of his driveway and drive straight back home to Renny and your ducky pajama shorts.

The droning stopped, and a long high-pitched beeeeeep sounded, which triggered the gates. There was muffling on the other end of the line as the iron gates started peeling back, and you could’ve sworn you heard a voice say, “Is that her?” Your hands were mildly shaking as they reached to put the car back in drive, from fear? Excitement? Admittedly, a bit of both.

You drove up the cobblestone drive through a yard lush with tropical plants that had to have been imported, but your gaze was quickly stolen by the resort-like property you’d be entering at any moment. Columns stood tall and the encased chandelier emitted a warm glow where the intricate glass doorway stood. The click of your booties walking along the cobblestone seemed loud as you walked to the front and tentatively raised a hand to the door. You knocked softly for fear the intricate glass would break, though it did seem expensive and thick enough…

You looked back to the only car in the driveway – yours. Their cars were probably hidden and well-kept from the elements in one of the three garages you’d parked in front of. The dent you’d received from last year’s fender-bender was still obvious even in this dim lighting. The crickets seemed peaceful tonight.

“Welcome!”

You turned sharply at the high-pitched voice to see Gemma. She held a full champagne flute in her hand, and leant a bit on the dark wood rim of the door, looking every bit as beautiful as you’d remembered – more so, now that you saw the cocktail dress she was wearing.

“Hi!” you mirrored her enthusiasm.  She ushered you in, not noticing it was a mere mask for how totally unprepared you felt. “Was I, uh, was this like a formal occasion?” you whispered, eyes darting down the long hall. The blank stare she gave you made your anxiety about being the most awkward human bean rise to new levels.

“What, formal?” Gemma looked baffled for a moment. “Oh! No, not at all. All my other clothes are dirty and I’ve been refusing for Sven or Eli to do them.” She took in your lost eyes. “The house maids- or, housemen? Not sure which,” she clarified. Her eyes quickly darted over your cardigan and jeans. “You look wonderful by the way. Dinner’s only just begun, I promise.” You smiled warmly at her, suddenly becoming aware of the chatter and silverware scraping the plates. A grand piano sat in the entrance, and there was a surprising amount of marble for the Spanish exterior of the house. Chandeliers lined the tall ceilings all the way down and some orchestra music you weren’t sophisticated enough to name filled the air.

She started walking down the hall, and you trailed behind her, your heart rate accelerating from the anticipation of seeing Harry in his home. It sounds weird, but you’d never been able to picture him at a proper house, with a family, with a childhood really… just the fraternity.

“Y/N is here!” She called out just as she turned the corner. Seven pairs of eyes locked on you and you instantly tugged on your sleeves. Especially when you only recognized two. Harry sat beside the head of the table, his eyes locked on the plate of food, and a surprise. Sorority Viv was beside him. You wanted to scowl, but you tugged the sleeves of your sweater down instead.

“Hi,” you put up a hand and braced a smile.

“Well we didn’t think you were coming,” a woman said. Her blonde bob looked strangely familiar and Harry’s eyes snapped to her when she spoke. Even from here you saw them harden.

“Oh..uh,” you looked down at your watch. 6:55. “I’m sorry, I thought dinner started at 7.”

“You’re fine dear,” the man at the head of the table assured. Mr. Styles you assumed. He had kind features and softened wrinkles by his eyes when he smiled like now. He was like a George Clooney and, even though he had gray hair, he was tan and somehow it was fashionable. But something was off.

“It was meant to be 6,” she noted, and her pearl necklace jostled as she leant over and placed her empty glass of champagne on the table and beckoned you to the seat in front of Harry. “Well come in! Please,” her voice sounded sincere but the thin smile radiated about as much warmth as a frozen potato. Gemma squeezed your shoulder as she passed and sat at the next empty one a few chairs down. You pulled yours out next to a fair-skinned boy with light dull brown hair and he offered his hand. It was like porcelain, so it was a little unnerving when you grasped it and found he was actually warm.   

“Charlie,” he said, and you realized he was the boy you saw kissing Gemma.

“Y/N,” you smiled. You looked across to Viv and did the same, and she returned it, if a little unwilling. She looked to Harry again, who’d busied himself more with food.

“Hey,” you said, but it was into the void, his eyes elsewhere probably looking at the thousand dollars worth of décor – your embarrassment was swallowing you up until Viv nudged him. He looked up, eyes distant, and they locked on your own for only a second.

“Hi.”

It was mortifying.

“So-” Charlie cleared his throat- “You guys are mates then I reckon?”

“We’re not sure what they are,” Gemma piped in.

“What do you mean?” Viv asked, looking to Harry.

“Yes, what do you mean?” Mrs. Styles suddenly halted the conversation at the other head of the table with the couple beside her. Harry’s face morphed into a scowl.                               

“Gemma,” he warned.

“Mary, please,” Mr. Styles sighed.

“Harry,” Gemma and Mary spoke at the same time.

“So!” Charlie let out a nervous laugh. “The chicken’s really good isn’t it?” He forked another bite into his mouth and you were envious you couldn’t do the same. Just like that, a gloved hand reached down and gingerly set down a china plate with the juiciest piece of chicken and capers you think you’d ever get the privilege of eating.

“Thank you,” you looked back to the kitchen help before he could disappear, black and white uniform and all. “You have a lovely home Mr. Styles. And Mrs. Styles.”

“Oh honey my mother-in-law is Mrs. Styles. I’m Mary, and he is Lionel.” Her voice was bubbly like the champagne she twirled around, but so was her friendly tone – full of air.

“Oh, okay.” You busied yourself with picking up the silverware before stealing a glance to Harry. His demeanor was different than usual, eyes glued to his food, cheek sucked in as he lightly gnawed on it. He was still, but .. sad? No.

…despondent?

“Did practice tire you out?”

His eyelashes fluttered at the sound of your voice and he looked up, lips pursing just the slightest. It was a miracle he hadn’t ignored you.

“No…”- a brief lift of his shoulders, a shake of the head, then- “No,” he repeated, forking a piece of chicken into his mouth.

“Yeah, you have been awfully quiet-OW,” Charlie began coughing and Gemma threw him a glare.

“Harry’s never quiet.”

“And how would you know that?” Harry suddenly snapped to life and the room dropped by ten degrees. She raised the napkin neatly to her mouth before slowly tucking it below her.

She took a deep composed breath.

“Oh please Harry,” her oddly placed laugh made you tug your sweater tighter to your body. “I’ve lived with you long enough don’t you think?”

“Long enough? Yeah I completely agree.” A sarcastic half grin spread across his face and something tugged within you that made you want to kiss it away. You heard yourself thinking and it made you sick. Kiss? KISS??!

You stuffed another bite in your mouth.

“So Y/N what’s the story here?”

You look up, cheeks full. Mr. Styles – Lionel, laughed a bit at the sight and his laugh didn’t make you want to cringe into your sweater like his wife’s. “Sorry darling, I’ll let you finish.”

You swallowed a little too fast.

“What are you studying here? How do you know Harry?”

“I’m majoring in Biology, but we’re in English class together.”

“Biology! I’ll drink to that,” Lionel lit up and raised his flute.

“Lionel’s the best doctor in Southern California.” Mary crossed her heart, and Lionel shook his head lightly.

“She exaggerates.” Her eyes narrowed slightly at his comment, but he continued, “If you ever need an internship or if you want to come visit one day…feel free.” He slipped a hand into his pocket and pulled out an extremely thick, extremely white business card as if it was the most normal thing in the world. “So… just class?” He gestured between you and Harry once more.

“Well, he’s also quite a good soccer player so I’m pretty sure the whole school knows him.”

“I wouldn’t say the whole school,” Harry started, but his eyes were fixed on Lionel and the way he broke into an easy smile.

“So we’ve heard. We’ve seen him play once or twice, haven’t we?” He looked to Mary who nodded. She soundlessly raised the napkin to her mouth again but she didn’t speak. “Yeah, he’s quite good.”

“Really good,” Viv crooned.

“Could you pass the water please?” Gemma asked.

“What?” Mary arched a thin brow.

“The water,” Gemma repeated.

“Water,” Lioinel mimicked the accent and broke into a smile. “You can’t ever leave Gemma, it’s decided. I’d miss your voice too much.”

Something snapped in you. He lifted the heavy vase of water effortlessly and passed it on to her, oblivious of the gears turning in your head. The accent.

Mr. Styles didn’t have one.

And neither did Mary?

“You don’t have accents?” It was out before you could stop it and the table fell silent. It was one of those awful moments when everyone’s brows were squished and slow side glances were given. And a nauseating feeling spread through you when you realized you might have said a very wrong thing. Viv nervously looked to Harry.

“What do you mean?” Mary asked.

Harry cleared his throat. “I mean, technically we all have accents.”

“He’s right,” Gemma said, pointing her fork.

“But you’re…are you British?”

“I am!” Charlie said.

“Yes you idiot,” Gemma nudged him, and Lionel laughed a bit before shaking his head.

“No darling, we’re from here. Born and bred beach bums.” He threw up the shaka sign in true dad-fashion but Mary tipped her champagne flute back.

Harry snorted.

“Never say that again.”

“Why am I embarrassing you?”

Harry didn’t bat an eye.

“Oh come on…Charlie smiled.” Lionel innocently looked over for support, but Charlie’s gaze was locked deep on his chicken by then.  

“You’re lying,” Harry shrugged. “You never go to the beach. Can’t be a host that lies to its guest can we?” Harry turned to you and you froze. “You don’t like liars do you? Cause I don’t.”

“What has gotten into you?” Lionel’s voice was breathless, incredulous.

The table fell silent and the two looked at each other from opposite ends of the table. Lionel set his glass down and a tint of disbelief reflected in his eyes.

“I’ve never seen you there it’s just funny to hear you say it,” Harry continued calmly.

“What’re you talking about I took you sailing all the time.”

“I’ve seen pictures!” Viv said, “Oh you were so cute in your little outfits, don’t you remember?” But her voice sounded overenthusiastic, keen to change the subject.

“Sure and how old was I again Vivvy?”

His retort was instant, the question harmless enough, but it was the way he said it that made Viv’s face instantly fall. For a moment, you even felt bad for her she seemed so genuinely hurt. Mary rubbed her mouth with the napkin so hard you weren’t sure if the red on her lips was blood or makeup. Do you speak? Make a mad dash for the door? Sorry, I didn’t sign up to be on an episode of the Housewives - gotta blast! Then you could throw the thumbs up sign to Harry on your way.

No. You couldn’t. You didn’t even dare to breathe right now.

Gemma watched wordlessly, just as much at a loss as you. More so, it seemed, for her mouth open and closed multiple times, but each time it was a hopeless attempt. Lionel rose his brows, took a deep breath, and leaned back. He looked tired.

Harry’s eyes had barely flitted over to yours before retreating again and in that brief moment you looked at him, it’s as if he realized what he’d said. His cheeks flushed, but his jaw was locked.

“Okayy, someone woke up on the wrong side of his small fraternity bed this morning. But you’re welcome to come back and live with us. Have your nice king sized bed again…” It sounded like a nice offer but if you listened hard enough you could’ve sworn you detected something sharp.

“Oh funny joke Lionel,” Mary laughed humorlessly, slowly turning to you. “Harry’s always been independent.”

I wanted Gemma to reach out, to whisper a concerned Harry as a warning, because right now his eyes were dark, brewing a storm of blood rain from invisible scars he’d cut open himself. How deep did they run?

“Yes, funny, funny, that’s what we are,” Lionel said, but there was no smile on his face, he was rubbing the corners of his mouth with the napkin and setting it down on his clean plate. “Sorry about this.”

As if Harry wasn’t in the room. As if you didn’t feel as though you were in the most awkward position you could’ve been placed in, plopped in the middle of a tug of war you didn’t really remember signing up for. Were you supposed to be on a side?  

“Dinners aren’t usually like this, I don’t know why he’s-”

“I don’t know why we’re having this dinner. Are you done?” Harry asked Viv. Her plate was still full of vegetables and at least half the chicken.

“Actually-”

“Great! Are you done?” He turned to you in all his over-animation, and in his dark green eyes you felt a sudden sympathy. It wasn’t right what he was doing, but he could only be acting out for a reason. Or multiple.

Or perhaps he was a just a selfish petulant boy.

Whatever the reason there was a wild plead in his gaze and you didn’t want to disappoint.

But you were also very much aware of Lionel waiting for your answer.

“If everyone’s done, then I’m done too.” And in fact, your appetite had disappeared.

Gemma seemed close to tears, but she blinked them away and tossed her napkin. “Yes, I’m actually quite tired.”

Charlie halted his fork mid bite and with one look from Gemma he reluctantly put it down.

“Stuffed full actually,” he mumbled.

“Great, well, I’ll grab dessert.”

Mary rose with her napkin but the scrape of Harry’s chair against the wood floors made her do a sharp turn.

“Where are you going?”

He didn’t answer as he headed to the marble staircase, footsteps loud as he jogged up them.

“Let him go,” Lionel sighed, and with it, he shrunk smaller in his chair.

“Harry!” she screeched. But he didn’t answer and with a turn at the top of the stairwell he was gone.

Everyone dispersed after that. Lionel received a conveniently-timed phone call to which he had to dismiss himself into one of the many rooms. Mary headed immediately into the kitchen but she never came back -

And then there were four.

“I’m-” Gemma bit her cheek, folded her hands. “Nevermind.”

“I think I should get back.”

Gemma looked at you understandingly, a sad sort of reluctant smile gracing her face. “Perhaps that’d be best. It was really nice meeting you though, and as much as Harry doesn’t seem to get on with loads of people, he mentioned you multiple times. I thought-” Her eyes got misty again and they glazed over the multiple paintings hanging over the dining table. “Nevermind what I thought,” she looked down to her feet but for a moment before that, her warm eyes had smiled at yours. You didn’t know her, not at all, yet somehow you could tell the warmth behind them was genuine. And you liked her instantly.

“Alright, I’ll just – I’ll head out then. Thank you so much for the dinner, it really was delicious.”

“Thanks for coming,” Charlie offered, swinging his arm around Gemma.

“Guess I’ll see you at school.” Viv appeared beside them and the unexpected head of jealousy showed its face again. Well, not its whole face. Just the tip of its nose as it peered behind the pillars of your heart, because would you really want to spend more time in there?

You were shocked when that tiny part of you said yes.

You were only halfway to your car when you heard Viv shout out.

“Wait!” You obeyed, feet halting as her fast jogging in heels made record time. She let out a breath. “Back there, what you said about the accents, it’s not like it’s a big secret, but um.” Her eyebrows slightly knitted together. “I’m not sure why I’m telling you this, I guess just so you don’t make it a big deal.”

“Yeah. Wait- why, did I make it a big deal? I really didn’t mean to.”

She shook her head, then stopped. Her head leaned slightly to the side and her eyes pinched as she pondered your questioned. “Maybe a little.”

She put her arm around you and steered you to your car.

“Harry’s adopted, it’s not bad that I’m telling you this because they don’t try and keep it hidden or anything it’s just – they don’t advertise it. And most people don’t ask. They just assume long-term boarding school or something. They don’t look into it.”

“Oh. Right.”

Adopted. Of freaking course.

“It was when he was young, seven or something. Uh-” She stopped, perhaps she’d said a bit too much. “But anyway it’s not that big of a deal.” But it sounded like she was trying to convince herself. She looked to you.

“Yeah,” you agreed, “Totally fine. I mean I’m sure his other friends know anyways.”

She smiled then, and stuck you at arms length. “See you later.”

After revving the engine, and drawing up to the gate, you sat there for what must have been a solid twenty seconds, throwing the engine in reverse and then approaching it again. It didn’t move. Shouldn’t this thing be automatic from the inside? You threw it in park and trudged to the front door again, but no one was moving inside the house. You tried knocking. Everyone was gone. Fantastic.

A miracle, one of the garage doors started to open and you walked closer.

“Oh good, I was about to be stuck!” you called out as the doors clicked back, expecting Gemma to return your smile from the other side. But it was dark and no one was there. You did see the shadow of three other cars though. Three very nice racecar material cars.

“Hello?” You called out. You swallowed harshly when you saw two brown booties.

“What’s going on?”

You felt like you should be the one asking him that, but you just shrugged your shoulders. “The gate won’t open.”

Harry stood expressionless before retreating to the back of the garage.

“Wait- where are you-”

The sound of the gate opening shut you up. “Oh, thanks,” you mumbled. You didn’t really know what else to say, and Harry wasn’t exactly making conversation, so you were silent as the clank of your door closed you in again. Back to reality. This night had been a disaster.

The spluttering of your engine lasted longer than usual and you stilled.

Come on grandpa!!!!

You twisted the key again but it was refusing to give you the satisfying thrum when it finally gave. You were so close!! It couldn’t give out now!!!! It could literally break down, say, in a total hypothetical situation that did NOT happen, when I’m trying to avoid human contact after being pantsed in front of hottie toddie physics professor but it CAN’T give out now.

You tried again but it failed.

And you tried again.

And again.

And again.

Harry’s figure approached the car window with a beer in hand and he took a deep swig of it before knocking on the window. You barely heard it above the spluttering but you gave grandpa a moment of silence.

You rested your head on the steering wheel before bouncing up again and rolling down the window.

“What Harry,” you sighed.  

“She’s dead.”

“I know.”

You got out and waited, crossing your arms while Harry ran into the garage to check if he had any jumper cables or whatever else he’d need to fix this. At least it wasn’t smoking.

“We don’t have any.” He sauntered over, scratching the back of his neck and looking at the car. “Can stay here if you want.”

“I can call an Uber.” You hit your phone’s lock switch but it was a black screen. DAMN you Renny for hogging the charger before you’d left. DAMN YOU. “Can’t. Can’t call an Uber. Could you call one for me?”

“Are you trying to use me for my money?”

“I- no.” Your mouth parted but it closed again. Was he for real? Was he….kidding? “I can pay you back you know.”

“Lionel won’t hear of it. He doesn’t trust Uber.”

“Doesn’t trust Uber. What is he? A binge-watcher of late night crime shows?”

“No.” An almost smile shone through and you crossed your arms.

“Well I can’t just block the gate.”

“No one’s going anywhere for tonight.” He headed for the garage again. “Come on,” he called back.

“Renny will be worried about me!”

“You can call from our landline.”

People still had those?

—

“Sh they can hear you these walls aren’t 12 inches thick!!” you whisper-yelled into the receiver. You gave Harry an awkward smile and twirled the cord around the vintage phone. “Mary picked it up at a Parisian market or something. It’s mainly for decoration but they got it hooked up just in case,” he’d said, only walking to the end of the hall to give you some “privacy.”

It was literally from the 1920s. You felt like a vaudevillian actress about to break into song about how she wants to live a normal life but mommy and daddy keep her locked in a tower.

“I DON’T CARE IF THE WHOLE DAMN WORLD HEARS ME YOU ARE BETRAYING YOURSELF IF YOU SPEND THE NIGHT THERE.”

“Renny- ! Oh my- ! Could you just- could you just LISTEN?”

“Let me call you an Uber.”

“Lionel already knows and they’re-” you looked over at Harry who seemed to be distracted by a painting he’s probably seen a thousand times before and you lowered your voice- “Apparently one of the maids is already making my bed.”

“ARE YOU ROYALTY NOW?! Are they going to give you complimentary chocolates in the morning?! Are you going to be giving him complimentary HEAD-?!!!”

“RENNY!”

Harry’s head whipped towards yours, but his lips were still set in his pout. You grimaced, putting your back to him and facing the end of the hallway.

“Now you have me thinking about the wizard’s wand. I literally hate you,” you grumbled.

“You know I’m joking. Well, half-joking. You can stay there if you want it’s just-” she sighed- “What is this, are you guys like dating now? Because the last I heard you were literally running away from him and wanting to punch his face in.”

“He does give off that effect. And no! We’re not-” your voice lowered more- “We’re not dating. My car’s just broken down.

“You keep lying to yourself.”

“I’m not lying to anybody.”

“Keep telling yourself that kid. Because the last time I was with you was when you were literally RUNNING away from him. But you’re going to spend the night at his house. Voluntarily. I mean geeze you’re giving the poor guy a headache you can at least suck his dick.”

She’d hung up before the words even processed.

—-

“This is the living wing, I dunno why they call it that it just makes it sounds depressing.”

“What do they mean by living?” you asked. Each word sounded heavy on your tongue, each sentence carefully constructed. It was weird to be talking with him when he clearly wasn’t in the best frame of mind. When you didn’t know if he’d snap and turn sour all of a sudden.

Though you didn’t think that’d happen. He seemed more sullen to you now more than anything, apologetic maybe, if a word like that could describe him. Think: a toddler after being scolded for something he’s done wrong. Eh? That image seemed to work.

“It’s where my dad keeps his…creatures. Birds, fish, I don’t know I never fucking go in. It’s also where their bedrooms are.” He poked his head around the hallway before muttering, “I guess.”  

“Oh okay.”

Your feet stopped following him when you met a tall window. Their backyard was….spectacular. It was dark and the twinkle lights only exposed so much, but there was a very nice long pool, tile patio with sunbathing chairs, and more green beyond it. The all black on the horizon you assumed to be the ocean.

You didn’t realize Harry was behind you until he muttered, “What’re you thinking about?”

“You know I could ask you the same question. Like at least half the time I’m around you.”

His brows squeezed together a bit but a bit of a smirk was starting to form. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

“Oh you do. You definitely do,” you started to laugh and back into the window to scrutinize him from afar. Because right now he had a very odd look in his eye. “You’re quiet most of the time,” you said softer. After dinner, you weren’t quite sure what was going on in Harry’s family life. But the longer the adopted word kept being tossed around in your brain and analyzed every which way, you wondered how many different dynamics existed that added or subtracted to their relationship. Take Gemma. How did she fit in? She had the accent too.

So, if you could make him smile by backing up and eyeing him like he was some sort of specimen than so be it. As much as you would’ve killed to see him unhappy a couple days ago, you’d realized you’d been a bit rash to run into conclusions. And yes, you had managed to make yourself look like an utter mentally unstable ass and a half. So you could cut him some slack. The night hadn’t been a nightmare for just one of you.

“Stop it,” he warned. But you started to circle him and you squinted one eye, putting two hands up to frame Harry’s face and the window with the warmly-lit grounds like a director choosing the shot. “Okay seriously. Stop.”

“Nope,” you popped the p, “It’s funny. I couldn’t picture you in a place like this before, but now I can.” You slowly put your hands down and you thought you heard him mumble weird.

“Oi. Did you just call me weird?” your mouth opened in playful surprise. His nose scrunched up at your over exaggerations. He was confused, you could tell. And he was probably being just as cautious as you were, you realized. You didn’t blame him. But he was so close to smiling. Soooo clooosseee-

“S’just weird,” he settled with. And his would-be smile dropped. A little bit of guilt struck you.

“What is?” you began slowly.

“It’s weird that you’re here.” He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Ouch.

“Why?”  

“Because I can’t picture you here.”

His voice seemed shy. He nodded towards the other end of the hall. “Come on, I’ll show you where you’re sleeping.” And he didn’t give you much time to catch up, nor time to feel offended, as his long legs were once again a disadvantage to you.

You weren’t sure how many bedrooms you’d been passing, and to be completely honest, Harry’s explanations of what each room was went a bit beyond you.

“Theatre’s to your right, sun room’s to the left. That’s the library over in there, elevator’s around the bend. Annnnd… here it is.”

He forgot to mention the multiple living rooms you’d been passing which had killer ocean views, or the full-on mini bars. Yes. Bars. As in numerous. You didn’t see much alcohol in them though and you wondered if it had anything to do with Harry.

“I’ll be at the other end then.”

“Of the house?”

“The hall, just there.” He pointed, and looked back at you with a funny look about him. “No sneaking into my bedroom.”

You coughed. “I’m sorry, was that a joke? A poor one but…Are you making jokes now?”

His smile faltered, but it was finally there. No matter how small or pained it looked. His eyes looked to his boots for a second before settling on your elbow, then your shoulder. Then your chin. Or was it-

“Right. Well. I’ll give you something to wear, just- stay there. Or don’t. I don’t care.” Harry turned quickly and disappeared into the last room at the hall. Your eyes grazed the hallway walls. He may not look necessarily enthused that you were there, but in this whole situation you’d felt like an outsider. And you suspected that was exactly what he needed.

Not that you held any pretenses to know what that confusing boy needed.

Not at all.

Or rather, none at all.

None were there to gather dust, to give you a glimpse into what he looked like as a toddler through to the awkward teen years. No family portraits hung. Each wall’s empty space was filled with a landscape painting of the sea, or the cliffs facing the water. Except for the power portrait of the Styles in the center of the home that looked out over their grounds - it was stark of any traces of family existence. The messy bits anyway. And instantly you compared it to your old stained carpets and walls with so many nails in it if you removed all the pictures and unscrewed the nails, you’d be left with hardly a house at all. This felt like someone had come in, staged it for a potential buyer, and that was it. Like if you opened the dresser’s drawer you wouldn’t find anything in it except for another nail or the assembly instruction manual.

You hummed to yourself, peering into your bedroom. A nice queen-sized bed and bamboo flooring. White canopy drapes covering what you assumed to be a window.  The only thing that seemed off was the ceiling. It had stars painted on it. You walked to the center of the room and looked up- there was a name there, inscribed in the center of the biggest star. You sat on the edge of the bed, twiddling your thumbs before wandering over to the ensuite bathroom. It was no less impressive.

A big part of you was wishing to be with Renny right now. Gosh you would’ve paid anything to see her face if she could only see the outside of this house. You never fared well when there was quiet, a lot of it anyway. And in a house this big, it was quiet. A little too quiet. And cold. Was the AC set to 50 or something?

Warm water ran down your face and you briskly turned the faucet off. At least Renny would be able to say “I told you so” tomorrow. Well, not about the blowjob thing. You opened the medicine cabinet to find some toothpaste, or face soap. The last thing you needed was another zit to pop through.

But there wasn’t anything of the sort. No no no.

Pills filled the cabinets. Some with labels, some without. You closed the cabinet. Definitely not toothpaste. Definitely not your business. But who were they-

“Oh my gosh!” your heart flew to your chest.

Mary was sitting on the edge of your bed, silent, hands folded in her lap. Had she seen you? The sudden adrenaline found an escape in an awkward laugh. “You scared me.”

“Oh I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to do that.” She tucked a strand behind her ear and it wasn’t until your hip hit the door frame on the way out of the bathroom that you realized she hadn’t been looking at you this entire time. She would’ve judged you for that blunder. No, her eyes were fixed on the walls, then the ceiling.

Did she need help with something? Were you in the wrong room?

“Is this my room?”

“It’s my youngest’s room.” She looked up again, and her left hand seemed to be a little shaky as she soothed already straight hair behind her ear. You watched her closer and saw her body sway a bit to steady herself when her head lowered. You instinctually looked to the door, to an exit. Harry should be down there. Nerves suddenly held your body like they always do in a situation that’s unfamiliar, in the face of unpredictability.

“She liked astronomy!” She said suddenly, as if she’d just had an epiphany. She walked over to the canopy drapes and peered between them, revealing a balcony as she looked out. “I thought she’d like it. She likes the stars.”

“I bet they’re, uh-” your eyes shot out again- “Beautiful from here.”

She was quiet and she slowly turned to you, pointing to the ceiling. “There. Did you- didyouseeit? There.” She stumbled closer, still in heels, and you crossed your arms tightly, nodding even though you had no idea. You followed her hand briefly. It was the scribble on the wall.

“I picked it,” she said, finger sliding to fall at her heart. “I picked it.”  

“Jesus! Mary.” Harry stormed in, a horrified look on his face as he clutched clothes in his hands. They fell to the floor.

“And Joseph,” you muttered.

Harry’s eyes held no humor in them in the brief moment he glanced to you. It was hardly enough time to properly glare. But glare he did. And there was enough fiery gusto in them to realize that now was not the time.

“Jane,” she corrected. “Jane.”

Harry was struck still, and you watched as his eyes frantically observed. But when she was about to sit down again he spoke,

“What’re you doing in here? Y/N is going to try and sleep.”

Mary looked at him, her drunken emotional journey to the past turning sour. Her lips pressed in a hard line and she stood up, swaying a bit when she did so, but the level of composure she emanated was impressive.  She went over to him, passing you silently, and for an irrational second you thought she was going to jump you. Instead, she grabbed Harry’s arm when she was almost out the door. “There were two rooms Harry.” She tried to whisper it, but the alcohol had warped her perception and you heard everything.

She let her hand fall and Harry’s fist clenched as it did.

You were struck dumb, again. This wasn’t your domain, you weren’t close enough to comfort him if that was what he needed and you weren’t brave enough to interject if he needed a good slap in the face. You barely knew him. And the realization of that sunk deeper than you’d ever realized. You can get frustrated because of him, infuriated at him even, but you couldn’t be one to judge. Not when he seemed more miserable here than anywhere else.

“Stay here,” he finally said. And then he was gone, leaving you with a pile of clothes that couldn’t explain the half of it.

You stripped quietly once the door was closed, pulling the oversized plaid button up down that fell to completely cover your hands. It still left you cold, barely covering your bum, but your heart warmed a little at how he didn’t just give you a black t-shirt. You almost stepped over the sweatpants that were there before greedily snatching them up with a smile In your fanciful mind you imagined he knew you’d be cold in here.

Harry never came back. You couldn’t text Renny, or anyone, and you couldn’t be bothered with figuring out how to turn on the tv or to find a channel. So you lay there, looking at the ceiling. You didn’t belong in this room. Mary, even if she hadn’t necessarily said get out, still verifiably creeped you out enough so that you didn’t want to be in this room. You never knew Harry had another sibling. Not that you’d even known about Gemma until yesterday. How many other people knew him, truly? Why were you here now? What would you do if you opened your eyes and Mary was just sitting at the end of your bed again - watching you sleep?  It made your head dizzy and you closed your eyes. If she was there at least you wouldn’t be able to see her. But the scribble in the sky was still burned in your mind’s eye and it had your imagination roaring. You rolled over on your side, pulling up the thin sheet to cover your ear. The wind smacked a palm tree leaf against the balcony window and you jolted in place. You felt haunted, and it wasn’t like the sheet would protect you from anything except for soothing the little toddler in you who still believed that good always won, evil always lost.

This was an expensive home.

With probably more security than the local bank.

You were safe.

But you didn’t feel secure.

Your anxious thoughts continued like pins pricking your stomach until fatigue made it stop. You didn’t know the time when you fell asleep.

And you didn’t know the time when you awoke. The smacking of the palm trees was as bad as ever , and your nightmare had been worse tonight. The same sick one. A house in the countryside, peeling wallpaper that threatened to wrap itself over your hands if you leant against it a little too long, trapping you there when you needed to run from faceless creatures.

You were being watched.

You jolted-to in a cold sweat.

Was it 2 am? 3? You hoped it was closer to 6, to the sunrise. These days you cherished the times when you’d wake up at 4. You tried closing your eyes again, but the sweat soon chilled you enough to where the sheet wasn’t enough. You silently stood, walking over to the cabinets on the far side of the wall. The painted shutter doors squeaked when you opened them. It must’ve not been opened for a while because the paint caused the two doors to stick together and it only gave on the third tug.

What you saw stilled your heart. Because you didn’t find linens or a big fluffy blanket, and if you’d discovered this just a few hours later in the morning you’d probably glance right over it, perhaps it would’ve sparked a moment of confusion maybe. But now, in a big strange house in the middle of the night you surely felt a chill. And then you were booking it out to the hall.

His door was there. Just like any other door. But you paced around it a few times. He was probably sleeping. Should you just go to the downstairs? Just…I don’t know… grab a glass of water? Try putting on the tv? Like a normal person would? You raised your hand, but it fell just as fast. Gosh who were you?!

You couldn’t yell at Harry for being bipolar when you were basically the perfect spokesmodel. You knew why you were standing outside his door. You knew who’d make you feel secure. This was embarrassing.

But the door opened before you had to knock.

“You can come in,” he murmured.

“Oh,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. “Oh you don’t have to-”

But when he opened the door wider you didn’t waste a second in entering.  

part 10