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writingsfromhome · 6 months

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Dos and Don’ts of H Styles

A/N: this story was literally born out of the wifi incident happening to me. It was a weird experience lol but of course it inspired me to write a story around it. Basically you used to work for Harry as a PA and your life was hell. You bump into him in the present but before it unfolds we need to know what happened in the past.

Part 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

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I watch as Winnie types into her phone the number of the guy who’d just hit on her.

“And that’s with a y?” She looks up at him with doe eyes.

“Yea,” he falls for it. He was cute, and she worked a lot I didn’t blame her for taking who she could get. His accent also helped. “What’re you doin’ now?”

“Well,” her eyes slide to me. “Hanging with my girlfriend here.”

He nods at me and I smile, holding up the almost empty glass. “We were just about done for the night though.”

“We were?” Winnie checks in with me.

“Mhm,” I give her an encouraging nod.

Both Winnie and I were employed by musician-turned-actor Oretta Smith. Winnie was her nanny—or childcare companion as she called it, and I worked as Oretta’s executive assistant. It was full-time and demanding as hell but ever since Oretta had her first child a couple months back I’d gotten a lot more breathing room as she minimized her public life and stayed close to home.

This long weekend Oretta was staying with her in-laws and asked us to take it off. I’d already requested the weekend off knowing we were in London but being off at the same time as Winnie was impossible so we’d gone out to celebrate and let loose—9pm and only 2 drinks in, both of us had already started talking about the comfort of our beds. Until flirty dude came up to Winnie.

“What do you say?” Winnie’s new date asks her.

“Aw shucks alright,” Winnie flashes her beautiful smile and hops off the stool. I don’t even see her drop the bills onto the table as she hugs me goodbye and leaves until it’s too late. She’d covered for both of us. Well I’d get her back next time.

I finish the rest of my drink, eyes flicking to the reruns of tonight’s soccer game. This wasn’t the fanciest bar—it was quite homely compared to the ones Winnie and I often found ourselves at. But it was one I used to go to when I worked in London just over a year ago. Being back in the city, despite all the awful memories, pulled me towards the nostalgic comfort of it.

I remember the many dates with my now-ex, the random nights I’d actually get off, and drown myself in drink to forget about my awful employer. Or the birthday and milestone celebrations—especially the ones I started to miss near the end.

I consider walking the few streets over to my old flat. Coincidentally the job I’d gotten wasn’t far from home. The upside was that it made dealing with “emergency” texts from my employer a lot quicker but the downside was it grouped all the traumas I experienced in this beautiful city to a few blocks. I didn’t miss it.

I cut my memory lane rabbit-hole short and decide it was time to order an Uber and get out of here; I had an early train to catch tomorrow.

The bars on my phone flicker up and down as I open the app and continue to refresh it over and over. But my signal remains unstable.

“Stupid phone,” I mutter. I had to update my provider while I was here asap.

“‘Scuse me?” I wave down someone serving drinks. “Have you got wifi here?”

“Yep we do!” She smiles. “Name’s The Violinist and the password’s capital p….”

Her voice grows far away as my blood runs cold and I stare at the list of available wifi networks. I feel myself nod a thank you when she stops talking and she leaves taking the password with her while I’m stuck staring.

My networks:

🔗H’s iPhone

I want to duck down and run away, not spend another second around anything to do with that era of my life. But I also want to hunt him down and show him how much better I was doing after him, despite.

The second instinct wins. Kind of.

I don’t hide away. I scan the dimly lit room and try to spot the familiar head of hair but it’s on the third try that I spot him. And it’s probably because his hair is barely an inch long.

He must’ve cut it recently, I’m surprised. Him without his hair was like Harry Potter without his scar.

The feelings are instantaneous though. The loathing and the need to cry. My heart continues to race as I burn a hole into the side of his head.

He was the devil incarnate and I had thought about him for a second too long just now. And now here he was. What the fuck was a guy like him doing here?

I remember the awful times; the casually cruelty and the late nights he would make me work. His constant criticism. The way my life fell apart because of him. The way I could wring his neck with very little incentive at any given moment.

He had turned my whole life upside down. He ruined me.

Harry Styles wasn’t the sweetheart everyone painted him out to be.

And yet, a flash of a feeling, a fleeting memory I try to keep locked away pushes to the front of my mind.

“Fuck no,” I tell myself. There was no room for fondness when it came to the devil.

About 2 years ago:

I straighten out the blazer, wondering if I should be chic and roll the sleeves up a bit or just keep them down. My reflection shows a nervous mousy girl that’s trying too hard. I throw my hair into a ponytail instead and feel a more like myself. Just as the elevator doors ding open.

I’m in the penthouse suite I would be working out of for the next however long; it was my first day on the job and I was still sorting out my nervous to excited ratio.

After looking for months, I’d landed a PA gig for up-and-coming rockstar Harry Styles. It was a dream come true and everyone was ecstatic for me, most of all my boyfriend who’d helped me land the role.

My boyfriend, Grayson, was a personal trainer to a lot of big names and he’d been keeping his ear to the ground for me. We met a few years ago at the gym of course, I’d still been a student and he worked part-time at the student gym. Back then he was still working to get a better client list.

We’d clicked pretty quickly and Grayson, who was anything but shy, asked me out. Soon after he was telling me he had feelings for me and I’d felt them echo back the same. He was my biggest supporter and when I told him I wanted to take this career path seriously he’d been the first to show me what steps to take to get there.

My true dream was to become a publicist and work with celebrities, but fresh out of post-grad everyone told me I’d need to dive head first and get my hands dirty. And I’d have to do that by finding a PA role for a publicist or an industry person.

“Y/n?” My name interrupts my thoughts. It comes from a disembodied head peeking out from a doorway. “You are y/n right?”

“Yes!” I hurry over. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yes. I’m Mr. Styles’ exec assistant, I’m only here for the next,” he looks down at his watch. “Half hour perhaps? So let’s get you sorted before I head out.”

“Oh okay. Sure,” my ears ring, I was going to be alone on my first day. I didn’t even know he had an executive assistant. What was the difference between him and me? What if I screw up and this guy was part of the fallout plan? Shit. “Is Mr. Styles in?”

“Not at the moment, he’ll be in before noon. He has a few appointments this morning. Typically you’d be going with him but he left before you arrived so…next time. Make sure you get any paperwork he received from the appointments and file them in here-“ he points to a room with a filing cabinet. Like an actual cabinet. This was a tight ship. “You sound American. Are you American?”

“Yep,” I debate whether to tell him I stayed after doing my degree here but decide to keep the yapping to a minimum.

I continue following the EA—who I should get the name of, as he points out rooms and overlaps it with info about Mr. Styles’ schedule and routines. A lot of info. My brain felt like it was barely holding on.

I think about the man I was now working for, the one who came into the interview for a brief 10 minutes. Surely that laid-back guy wasn’t the anal mystery man I was getting all these instructions for.

The interview itself had gone pretty smoothly apart from the fact that I nervous-laughed a few times too many. I had gone silent when The Harry Styles had walked into the office. He’d sat beside me at the round table, slouching slightly and flashing me a reassuring smile—I had felt my shoulders dip down immediately.

“So it’s y/n right? I’m pronouncing that correctly?” He’d said in his perfectly charming accent.

“Yes, it’s so nice to meet you officially.” I had to tamp down every urge to gush over him. I was a professional. I was zen.

“So y/n,” he says my name so casually and yet I feel myself lean closer to hear him say it again. “I’ve seen a couple of you come in here for the PA role. What makes you different then?”

Think think, just be calm and think!

“Well I’m a very passionate person so I put my all into everything I do. That would include this job, and in turn you’d benefit by getting peace of mind knowing I’m tackling whatever behind the scenes items that need to get done to get you where you need to go.”

“Well said,” he says with a smile that says he knew he was very good looking. “Now trust is a big factor in this relationship.”

As he talks I forget his manager is even in this room. I’m swept up in the hazy green of his eyes.

“We’ve done the background checks and all that—right?” He looks to his manager who was interviewing me and gets a nod. “But how can you reassure me. My staff gets approached by the media daily for any info on me. What’s to say you don’t sell out.”

“I would never,” I didn’t even think of that being an option. “Confidentiality and trust is the biggest pillar of this role and I take it very seriously. You’re like, the biggest celeb of the last year but I know you’re also a person and I wouldn’t betray that. On a person level.”

“So even if you had a really bad day, say I had gotten you to do some impossible tasks. And you’re heading out head full of steam and you get approached by a reporter. £5k for an exclusive.”

I shake my head. “As tempting as it would be, professional ethics reign over any of that.”

“I believe you y/n,” his eyes flicker down to my file. “Good references. We’ll be in touch.”

Now my eyes roam around the small room I’m meant to work out of. It’s the size of 1.5 supply closets with half the walls filled with shelves and cabinets. There’s a small desk but I wasn’t sure how often I’d be sitting at it. All the PAs I’d ever connected with always complained about the amount of time you spend on your feet. That’s why I’d opted to buy myself runners when I got the job.

“Any questions—mind you I have 1 minute for them before I’m off? There’s a suit I have to sort out.” The EA turns to me when we circle back to my office/supply closet.

“Oh,” a million race through my mind. Nothing that would fit in a minute. “I um, I guess I didn’t catch your name?”

He seems surprised at that, and then he laughs. “Oh you’re a doll. This place is gonna eat you alive. I’m Riley and tip for you—don’t be so eager to please. Do your job. Do it well. But you’re not here to be liked or make friends alright?”

He laughs again when he looks at my face. He hands me an iphone and tells me it’s programmed with everything and everyone I needed, then waves goodbye leaving me in a confused spot.

I wasn’t naïve, I knew what working in this industry was like but I was could swear I’d landed a good gig with Harry Styles. And meeting the man himself in the interview had confirmed it.

Maybe Riley was just jaded by too many long hours.

My phone vibrates in my pocket. A text from Grayson: good luck on your first day babe. let me know how it goes.

I only have time to heart it when I hear the elevator open in the foyer. I rush out just for Harry to brush past me and his manager following, chattering away about something.

I follow from behind and watch as he heads to the kitchen. Riley had shown me what he laid out on the island and how I should do it going forward. And like two magnets Harry reaches for the exact bottle Riley mentioned. He downs the smoothie and then collapses onto the barstool.

“But don’t forget what she was saying about the single needing to be global. Sure your fanbase would love it but would the people who hate you have to admit it’s good.”

“I make it for my fans not for the wankers that hate me,” Harry says and his voice is rich like caramel.

“You know what we mean.” His manager suddenly turns directly to me. “Can you contact the studio and let them know to push Harry’s 1pm to 3?”

“Oh,” I didn’t even know they knew I was here. They gave no acknowledgement until now. “Of course. Um, could I just get the paperwork from this morning too? The appoint-“

“Yep,” his manager unhauls the items in his hands. The whole time Harry stares out the window. I’m handed a stack of papers and I carry them to the office.

My hands are shaking when I put them down and I feel a lump in my throat. What was wrong with me? Why was I reacting this way?

I find the studio contact in the phone Riley gave me and let them know. They’re suspicious at first but accept the reschedule. I leave the paperwork for later, figuring I might be needed now.

But the rest of the morning I’m unacknowledged save by a few requests from Harry’s manager. I spend some time looking through the calender in the phone that’s pre-programmed with Harry’s entire life. It’s packed except for this Sunday. I wonder if it was actually free or just hidden from me since it was my one day off.

“You’ve got a passport haven’t you…?” It’s the first time Harry’s spoken to me. He’s changed into a hoodie and shorts, his manager is nowhere to be seen, and I’ve just bitten into a granola bar—the first thing I’d had since my morning coffee.

“Y/n.” I try to swallow the bite whole but at the last minute push it to the side to try to answer. “Erm yeah. I haven’t got it on me though.”

“Right. Y/n. Start carrying it. I’ll need you with me on Thursday I have a morning meeting in Léon and since Riley’s going to be sorting out something for my New York trip in a couple weeks he can’t make it.”

“Yes. I will. Do you need me to prepare anything else for the trip? I’m not sure if you’ve packed or-“

“It’s just a meeting.” He cuts me off. He pulls out his phone, dismissing me.

I swallow the knot in my throat once more.

I go with Harry to the studio since his manager is meeting us there. Alone in the car with him, the silence feels stuffy.

“I never got the opportunity to say thank you by the way,” I try to open up a conversation. All he was doing was looking out the window surely I wasn’t interrupting anything.

“What?” He stares right through me.

“Um, I’m just saying thank you. For the job.”

He nods.

I stay silent for the rest of the ride.

The studio is quiet, which makes sense when I think about it but upon entering an actual room I change my mind. The noise assaults my ears and I nearly jump at the volume but my hand gripping the doorknob keeps me in place.

People swarm around Harry.

“I need my tablet and my notebook,” Harry says amidst the small chaos.

What the fucks was he talking about. “Sorry?”

“My tablet and notebook,” His face darkens and so does my mood. Nobody told me! But maybe I should’ve asked oh my god.

“I don’t have it,” I say lamely.

“Any time I’m in the studio I need those two things. You need to get me my tablet and my notebook.” He speaks like a robot.

“I-I’ll head back,” I get my bag again. “Tablet and notebook, is there anything else?”

He looks angrier than I thought. He sticks his hands in his pocket, shuffles something in his hand before handing it over. “You may as well get lunch. Keep that card on you for business costs.”

I open my mouth to ask what he might want but he turns away as soon as I take the card and I’ve already fucked up royally so I decide to wing it.

In the car I consider googling what Harry Styles ate for lunch and instead will the ever living shit out of myself not to cry.

I scroll through the phone, debating if calling Riley for help would be a mistake. Going through every app for help I realize the countless notes in the app.

Morning Routines, says one. It lists things I should do when the mornings were spent at home, in studio, abroad, in a hotel, or if I walk into a “morning-after” morning. Jeez.

Another has checklists for what to do when travelling, how-to for routine appointments I should be booking, routine people I should be calling.

Why didn’t I look at this before. Right there is one called Studio Days and in bold it says what to bring.

I was an idiot. A big fat idiot.

I try my luck and search lunch. Sure enough a note with possible lunch places in cities across the world pops up.

It was a How-to guide for Mr. Styles.

Whoever put this shit together was an angel. I owed them my life.

I decide to be proactive, sorting lunch out to be delivered to the studio while the car drops me off. I run to the room Riley had said was the home studio. Sure enough I spot the tablet and a few notebooks, I grab all 3. I also grab the charger and ignore the bag of weed chilling on the arm of the chair.

What to do when he’s too drunk / What to do for Interview Days / What to do when he won’t answer the door or the phone / Day-off checklist / Social media checklist.

The dos and don’ts go on and on as I scroll through on the ride back. This was going to be my homework and by the end of the week I was gonna be a genius.

I swipe away and check if I had missed any folders containing precious info. Just the trash.

Out of curiosity I open it and there’s only 1 sitting inside: the donts of working for Harry Styles

I open it:

-don’t let one nice day fool you into forgetting he’s an arse and your employer

-don’t expect any gratitude from a narcissist

-don’t fall for his charm

-don’t shit where you sleep. no matter how tempting

-when he pisses you off which he will, don’t mouth off. what happens next is worse than being fired. which he won’t do because he’s the devil and he will want to keep you around after treating you like shite

-don’t think he’s chill. he’s anything but. follow the checklists and the rules.

-don’t have a life. actually this is a CAN’T. YOU CAN’T HAVE A LIFE WORKING FOR THE DEVIL. LEAVE AS QUICKLY AS YOU CAN UNLESS YOU HATE YOURSELF

I close the phone immediately, my heart thumping in my chest like a steady bass in the background of a song. What the hell did I get myself into.

***

It’s 8pm by the time I head back with Harry. The car is once again silent.

I had spent the day reviewing emails and the checklists, fielding calls and texts. His personal chef had texted to tell me dinner was prepared and in the oven to be re-heated so I figure that’s the last thing I’d do before I head home.

I’d eaten lunch standing while watching Harry sing background vocals to the album he was working on. It was hard to deny how intoxicating it was to see such a talented man work his magic. And it really was magical seeing how a song got put together.

That is until he’d sent me to get tea for the room and I’d nearly spilled half of it on myself getting enough back to the room. I was getting an electric kettle next.

I made a new note then: Reminders to do so you don’t get fired

The notes were my saving grace.

“My head is killing me,” Harry groans.

What to carry at all times: #4 paracetamol and #2 water

Checkmarked after going to the pharmacy while he was in the studio. I’d created an emergency makeup bag with essentials I could throw in my tote. I considered it a win today.

I hand the painkillers to him and he seems surprised. He replaces them with his phone.

“I don’t want to look at a screen for the rest of the night.”

“Okay.” I leave his phone beside me and try not to think of everything on it.

It vibrates a few minutes later and I leave it, not wanting to invade his privacy but he glances at me.

“Well?”

“Oh!” I lift it but it’s locked.

“1021.”

I type it in. “Um, Jeff wants to know if you’re still at the studio-“

“Reply to him.”

I do as I’m told.

“Um Mitch wants to know if you’re-“

“If it’s scheduling questions you can probably answer them without bothering me about it.”

I look up and he’s tipped his head back, eyes closed. Right. Of course I could.

I go through his schedule and find his studio time on Friday and relay it to Mitch. I respond to another text from someone asking if he was going to a gala in a couple months—his schedule said he was in LA so no. I wondered if I would also be in LA in a couple months. I wonder what Grayson would think.

Grayson, I’d had a short call with him a few hours ago and tried not to cry hearing his voice. It felt like home when the whole day felt so foreign.

I stare at the final text. The contact photo is the side profile of a gorgeous woman.

“Kimberly wants to know if you want um,” I feel my cheeks burn. “If you’re inviting her in tonight because she has a party she really wants you to go to.”

“I can’t be arsed for a party I feel like shite.” Harry says, eyes still closed. “Tell her to be at mine after 10.”

“Ok.” I type the words with a racing heart. I remember the morning-after checklist for this exact scenario. It wasn’t going to be weird soon I guess.

I heat up dinner for Harry while he showers and leave letting him know what time I’d be in tomorrow. He doesn’t even say goodbye.

I get home around the time I reckon Kimberly gets to Harry’s. The first thing I do when I see Grayson is shed a waterfall and he holds my exhausted body tight against him.

“Are you sure you want to keep doing this?” He whispers to me in bed after a shower and sandwich—I couldn’t stomach anything more.

“I need this job Gray. It’s gotta get better.”

“I reckon but it’s a steep learning curve,” he says as he traces the curve of my nose.

“I know,” I snuggle closer to him and yawn. I don’t know what he says next as I tip into sleep.

***

If the notes app manual with the dos and donts of being Harry Styles’ PA was a physical thing, imagine me swallowing it.

Every spare second I had—which I didn’t get a lot of, I was reading that thing. My fingers searched tirelessly before every scheduled and unscheduled event. And yet, I’d fucked up so many times.

It was Saturday and I was looking forward to my day off.

He had been hot and cold all week but ever since getting back from Léon he’d been nicer and I’d actually been getting home before 8.

Maybe things were going well, despite the fact that the learning curve was like climbing mount everest.

“What’s my morning look like?” Harry asks. I was sitting at his kitchen table trying to book a dinner for him next week with a friend that was in town. A friend who also happened to be big back where I was from—I hoped to catch a glimpse of her myself.

I glance up and look back down just as quickly. After a week of seeing Harry in all sorts of undress I should be used to it, but my face still flushes. Today he stands at the table in running shorts.

“Pulling it up,” I say and scan his schedule even though I had it memorized. “You’ve got a meeting at the bank in about 40 minutes and lunch with Michael.”

“Can’t my accountant take the bank meeting?”

“She’ll be there. She’s meeting you downstairs to discuss the meeting on the ride over. You need to sign off on some stuff.”

“Stuff,” Harry repeats.

I look at him, careful to train my eyes on his face. I couldn’t tell if he was annoyed at my lack of elaboration or just teasing me.

“Documents.” I correct, still unable to tell.

He look amused. “Great. Documents. I thought I’d be signing body parts.”

Was he joking? He was joking…I think.

“Right. No, we’re saving that for the tattoo shop booked for 6.”

He raises his brows, a slow smile spreading across his face and like the sun coasting over the horizon he looks brighter and prettier.

“That’s mad, that people would get a random man’s signature tattooed on them isn’t it?”

It’s inevitable really, my eyes skim over his torso brimming with tattoos. He notices and laughs. It’s a wonderful laugh.

“I meant they don’t really know me.”

“They admire you and it’s a piece of you,” I shrug. “At least it’s not a portrait of your face.”

“I’ve seen that floating around the internet actually.”

“Really?!” Now that was mad. I pull it up on the laptop and cover my mouth.

“I know.” He hangs his head and we laugh. God, things were finally getting better. This was the kind of relationship I thought Harry would have with his PA.

I scroll through comments and it’s impossible to wipe the smile off my face. I’ve considered myself a fan for a lot of artists but tattooing their face…that was another level of commitment I couldn’t do.

I look back to Harry who has grown quiet. His eyes are on me.

“What happened to your blazers?”

I’d decided to wear a skirt today, it was my lucky skirt—the one I had been wearing when I got the call that the job was mine. It being the last work day of the week I thought it might make me feel good.

I’d paired it with a tank top and a comfy cardigan. I’d finally felt like myself compared to all the button ups and blazers I’d been parading in. But apparently Harry had noticed the wardrobe difference. Shocker because he barely acknowledged me this week.

“I thought I’d dress for a Saturday?” It comes out meeker than I’d hoped. Ugh. “I hope that’s alright. If you want me more professional-“

“That’s alright,” his eyes roam down my body and I feel hot all over. Oh god, I shouldn’t have worn this. “It looks good.”

“Thanks,” I cross my cardigan over my body and try to get back to work but he doesn’t let it end there.

“Did you make that yourself?”

He continues to surprise me, “I did actually, is it obvious?”

“Yeah there’s a big hole down the back,” he teases. I know he is because his eyes are smiling, light.

“Damnit,” I relax a little. He was only interested in the sweater. “I’d finished it late it looked okay in the dark.”

“I have a friend, she made one of those for me. With the patches. Very comfortable.” He’s weirdly intense while looking at me and I feel like squirming again.

“It is. Very stretchy.” My vocabulary seems to shrink.

He leans over to touch the fabric and I feel like a cactus has been stabbed into my neck, I feel hot and prickly. Jeez, I had to chill out. My employer was just interested in my sweater. Super interested. Maybe I should just give him the damn thing. It would definitely fit him.

“Wool,” he smiles. He’s basically perched above me and I think I’m going to have a heart attack. I went from complaining about the fact that he acted like I wasn’t in any room he was in to not even being able to hold a conversation when he did.

I’m caught looking up into his unfairly gorgeous eyes and he looks at me like I’m the only person in the room. Which I was in this instance, but still.

I’m saved by a loud voice coming out of the elevator.

“Harry you car is waiting downstairs.”

Like a book slammed shut, his expression retreats until all that’s left is the cover page with no summary. The friendly Harry from before is gone.

“Oi Harry! I had to come all the way upstairs because I’ve been sitting in that stupid car waiting! Do you not pick up your phone?”

“Lee,” Harry says as he walks across his living room. “If you can’t reach me you call my PA I’ve told you a million times.”

“And I’ve told you a million times not to keep me waiting. We have a lot to cover before we get to this meeting and I need every minute. God why are you shirtless go put on something appropriate!”

Harry miraculously does as he’s told—given I had already laid out an outfit for him. He’s ready in no time. His accountant, Lee? Simply smiles at me and goes back to typing on her phone while we wait.

“Why is that so wrinkled?” Lee judges Harry who walks out in a completely different outfit.

“I don’t have time to change again do I?” Harry bristles.

Lee looks over at me and I’m not sure if she’s accusing me of something or looking for support.

“Mr. Styles I did leave an outfit out for the m-“

“I don’t wear silk.” He cuts me off and walks out ahead. Lee shrugs my way and follows him. I trail behind, feeling worse than ever.

For a miserable hour and a half I sit in one of the most uncomfortable chairs of my life, organizing Harry’s life while I wait for his meeting to end. As hard as I try to concentrate, I keep agonizing over what I might have done wrong to flick his switch. I swear things were going better. And I know I’ve seen him in silk before. Why the hell else would it be in his closet? Why couldn’t I go a single day without screwing up?

I finally spot Harry walking out of the office and gather my things quickly to meet him. I trail behind as we walk down the hall into the lobby, Lee is nowhere to be seen.

A gasp catches my attention and suddenly a girl younger than me rushes up to Harry.

“Oh my…Harry Styles?”

Harry’s face morphs briefly into annoyance, his gaze flicking my way, before pasting on a smile for the girl.

What to do when a fan approaches H (in the wrong moment): be the bad guy, divert, get Harry to wherever he needs to go to and do it quick.

“Hi,” Harry smiles sweetly at her and the friendliness throws me off guard. But this was unexpected and I should get him away…I think.

“Oh my god could I get a picture? My mate is never going to believe this. She loves you so much, so do I-“

“We really have to be going.” I say and the girl looks at me, surprised to find me there. I look around and spot and older woman watching us. Must be her mum.

“Could I just get a picture?” She glances between us.

“I don’t think Mr-“

“It’s fine,” Harry hands me her phone. “Get a photo of us.”

Just another layer of humiliation to add to the rest of the day. The rest of the week. God was I just awful at reading cues?

I snap a couple and then we’re walking free.

He doesn’t say anything. The car ride to his lunch date is spent in awkward fucking silence and I hate myself more with every second I spend in it.

When the car stops at his destination he holds his hand up when I go to open the door for him.

“Listen -what's your name again?" He asks.

Shame and humiliation drip over me like blood on Carrie’s prom night. I repeat it for him. Just like I had daily since I was hired.

“Right. Y/n. You came highly recommended from a friend so I trust you know how to do this job. This job, is to keep my life organized and keep me on track. Make sure I'm not distracted or side tracked by anyone. Including you. It’s not to be my publicist or my fashion advisor or my personal security. Let's stick to the job description okay?"

His words land bitterly to my ears. Not personal. Just a job. Just a job. Just a fucking job. And yet it was starting to feel like my whole life.

“Yes of course.” I hear myself mumble. And like the big clown I had to be, I push open the door and get out so he can too. He walks to the restaurant without a goodbye and I crawl into the car, heading back to his place. Tears burn my eyes but I refuse to let them out. Refuse to admit just how badly this job hurt.

***

“I’m not doing this on purpose,” I hiss into the phone. “You know I’d be there right now if I could!”

“Babe I get it’s your job but you haven’t come to anything in over a month since you started your job!”

“That’s unfair,” I cup my hand over my mouth. “Gray c’mon I’m going to be there just late.”

“That’s what you said last weekend.”

Last weekend, one of our good friends invited a few friends for dinner in their new place and Greyson had had to go alone. Everyone had messaged me to say I was missed but Gray had been stony, pretended to be asleep when I got home and then given me the silent treatment until I wore him down the next day. It was exhausting begging for affection.

“It’s my job Grey I don’t know what else to tell you.”

“Me neither, you know my parents want us over for weekend roast some time but I’ve been avoiding giving them a date because I don’t want you to stand them up.”

“I-“ a shadow shifts in the corner of my eyes and I look up. Harry stands in the doorway. “I have to go we’ll talk later.”

“Whatever y/n,” Grey hangs up and my chest squeezes with all the hurt I was causing. But he saw the state I’d been in since I started this job a month ago and he knows this is just my life right now. Why was he suddenly acting like it was brand new information?

“Are you done your personal call?” Harry asks. He hovers in the doorway, I’d never actually seen him in this little office space. Then again, if he did step in there wouldn’t be much room for either of us to walk around each other.

“Sorry,” I hate myself for apologizing. Here and everywhere else in my life. But I have no other choice. “Can I do anything for you?”

“When are you heading out tonight?” He asks. His eyes glued to my face. I know my eyes are teary and I try to blink it away.

“Um, soon. In an hour or so,” blink blink blink. “Did you need anything from me before then?”

“Yes, I have a friend coming over tonight. Can you order us something for dinner. Something light. And get a bottle to chill for us—champagne. And can you push Monday’s cleaning service to tomorrow afternoon?”

“Consider it done.” I tell him, hoping he would just leave me alone in the dark here.

“Do you have evening plans?” He continues. Why did he never ignore me when I wanted him to!?

“Kind of yeah,” I try to keep it short. “A birthday.”

It was Grayson’s sister’s birthday. She had invited us to a local fave called The Violinist and of course I would only make it to the dessert course if I was lucky. These days, making it to dinner at all was a luxury. I lived off of sparkling water, leftovers, and coffee.

“Well best to finish up what you’re doing so you can head out.”

He leaves and I’m annoyed. Why couldn’t he be nice and just tell me to leave after doing what he asked. But here I sit folding fucking pamphlets for some idiotic pledge he had signed on for. Fuck me.

I’m miserable by the time I leave. I’d managed to finish everything in a half hour so I’d touched up my makeup and changed into a simple dress I had kept in the office closet on Riley’s suggestion.

“A simple black number that could be used for any last minute event.” He’d said. Unfortunately that now counted for personal events too.

“G’night Mr. Styles.” I call out as I walk to the foyer, just so he knows I was going out earlier than I said.

“G’night,” he answers surprisingly. He always ignored me but tonight he sits on the couch. He rises to see me off but I notice him pause and take in my outfit. “Fun night?”

“I hope so.” I unfold the blazer in my hand, suddenly wanting to disappear with his gaze on me.

His long legs walk to me and he takes the blazer I’m fidgeting with from my hands. He actually holds it open and if I wasn’t this exhausted my jaw would definitely be on the floor.

“Oh. Thank you,” I slip it on and turn to face him. As if helping me put it on wasn’t surprising enough, he proceeds to untuck my hair from the blazer.

“That’s alright,” he says in a low seductive tone. “You look nice. Are you dressed up for someone?”

The question is dangerous, toeing a line I’m not sure I want to erase. I try to ease things with a joke. “The birthday girl I guess.”

“A friend?”

“My fiancé’s younger sister.”

Was it just me, or does he bristle when I mentioned my fiancé?

“I didn’t know you were engaged,” he mumbles, glancing down at my hand. I wore a number of rings and I guess the small diamond Grayson had proposed with back when it was the most he could afford, blended in.

“Yeah, nearly a year now.”

“Wow,” he crosses his arms. “Have a date set?”

“Not exactly,” I smooth my hair behind my ears. “We’re thinking next year but we’ve just been so busy with out schedules-“

“What does he do?”

“He’s a personal trainer,” I say proudly.

“Oh,” Harry tilts his head back. “Oh. Now I understand. Now I get the connection. My mate Liam put in a good word for you when I needed a new PA, he said he knew you through his personal trainer. He never mentioned how.”

“I see,” I’d have to thank Liam next time I saw him. He’d been one of Grayson’s first big clients and had become a close friend to us. I’d have to thank him with dinner. If I got any nights off, that is.

“That’s who you were talking to on your personal call?” He asks, his hand tracing my shoulder seam down to my elbow. My heart races from the ghost of his touch.

“Erm yeah, sorry again. I had to take it since it was time sensitive.”

“Best to get going then.”

I take a step backwards and then rush to the elevator all at once. Once I’m on and the doors start to close I turn and catch a glimpse of his handsome face watching me go.

I let out a breath. That was weirdly heavy. And kind of intimate. But weird. That was weird.

I wonder briefly who he was having over tonight. If it was Kimberly, who I’d had the misfortune of meeting in her panties one morning. Or his other “friend” some brunette named Maya or Amaya something. I’d had the misfortune of meeting her when I dropped off a late package to Harry one evening. All were awkward encounters.

I shake away the thoughts and am grateful when Harry’s driver waves me down on the sidewalk. I guess Harry had told him to take me to where I needed to go. My heart is warmed ever so slightly, although I do accidentally nap on the 15 minute drive over.

I make it for the end of dinner and Gray looks relieved to see me even though his eyes hold a hint of something unspoken. I try to ignore it tonight.

“Oh you look beautiful!” I hug the birthday girl, and we sway from side to side. I used to see her a lot before she moved away for uni. “When did you stop being a baby, Josie Duran let me get a look at you.”

“Josefina tell her what you did for your 21st.” Gray says.

“Can you let it go!?” Josie scowls.

“What?” I whisper.

“Mom will kill you,” Gray warns.

“That’s why she doesn’t have to know,” Josie bites.

“Hey,” I put my hands up between the two. “No fighting with the birthday girl. Anyway. Josie, you look beautiful, I’m so sorry I’m late but it’s so good to be here.”

“Aw no don’t worry about it,” she goes in for another quick hug. “I’m just happy you got to come. Gray said the bloke you work for is a nightmare. Tell us do we know him?”

“Ah,” I wasn’t really supposed to talk about him according to my nda. “I dunno if you would. Anyway I’m going to try to steal some of Gray’s leftovers until dessert comes.”

I sit beside Gray where the seat had been left empty and smile up at him, hoping for forgiveness. He sighs and kisses my forehead, pushing his plate towards me.

“Go ahead, have you eaten?”

I had a banana and a yoghurt for lunch but I don’t tell him, just making a vague answer for yes and scarfing down what’s left.

“She got a tattoo,” he says in my ear later as the restaurant finishes singing happy birthday and a cake with sparklers is set down. He’d gotten tipsy and I can tell because he wants to talk about his upsets.

“She’s a grown woman Gray,” I know he was protective and a little traditional—that’s where half of their sibling fights originated, but I always told him he had to let loose a little. “She’s allowed to get it. If I remember you have some tattoos of your own.”

“It’s different y/n.”

“She’s getting older faster than we can keep up with huh?” I lean my head against Gray’s shoulder and let out a big sigh. It feels good, sitting with him here surrounded by friends. It had been a while.

Gray leans his head against mine and doesn’t answer. We watch her friends take pictures like proud parents, watching her cut and then distribute the cake. I should help, but I just could not lift a finger.

“Hey y/n, is that your phone going off?” Josie’s friend beside me points to my facedown phone.

“Is it?” I sit up, my heart doing a number in my chest.

I pick it up, 2 missed calls from Harry and 3 texts. Fuck.

“Leave it,” Gray must be looking over my shoulder. “You’ve gone home now just screw him.”

“I can’t,” I didn’t want Gray getting mad—I know he was kinda drunk and he could make a scene like this. I didn’t want to ruin Josie’s celebration. But I couldn’t ignore this. This is the first time Harry’s messaged me after I’ve gone home. “I’ll take it outside.”

On my way to the door I open the messages. A picture of a bucket filled with ice. A row of question marks. And then: call me

What? What was so urgent about a bucket of-

Oh.

Fuck.

I thought I did everything but I hadn’t. I’d filled the bucket with ice and meant to ask the Italian restaurant around the corner to deliver a bottle like they usually did for Harry but I hadn’t gotten to that part.

I feel like I’m going to vomit any dinner I just had.

I crouch down. Do I call him? Do I pretend I didn’t see this until too late? No. I had to face up. I fucked up.

Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

I call with shaking hands but it rings and rings and goes straight to voicemail. I try again.

I had to get back, get him the champagne. Fix my mistake.

“Y/N,” Grayson’s suddenly outside. “Aren’t you coming back in?”

“I can’t. I…” how do I explain this to my fiancé without it sounding minor as hell. “I forgot to mail some important documents and I need to get back-“

“It’s Saturday fucking night.”

“Yeah but-“

“And guess what?! Tomorrow’s Sunday! The mail’s going nowhere! Fuck that wanker and come back in.”

Gray holds out his arms and I want to go back in but I need to fix this mistake.

I grasp his hand and he smiles, misunderstanding why I held it, “Gray I have to go-“

He pulls his hand away, a sneer on his face. It hurts when he looks at me that way, like I betrayed him.

“I showed up! I celebrated, I got here Gray I just have to-“

“You were barely here! Do you know how upset she was when I said you couldn’t make it?”

“Well why did you say that!?” I demand. “I told you I was only going to be late!”

“I can’t trust that!” He shouts and I try to pull his arm so he quiets but he doesn’t seem to care there are people around. “Your time is all his, every single fucking second! And when you’re not there your brain is going a million bajillion times over about him and his life. Even when you’re with me! What the fuck! What’s up with that!?”

“Gray I’m sorry look I’ll make it up to you tomorrow. I swear. I’ll make it up to your sister I-“

“I don’t care y/n,” Gray slips his arm out of my grasp. “Do whatever you want. Nothing I say matters anymore anyway right?”

“Gray,” tears streak my face as I watch the man I love go back inside without another look my way.

Fuck Harry.

I try to call him again but voicemail. Again. Fuck!

What to do when you make a mistake: admit to it—Harry appreciates accountability. FIX IT! As much as you can. FIX YOUR MISTAKES OR FACE CONSEQUENCES.

An alert that my uber was here pings my phone—I take the ride to the restaurant and grab an already chilled bottle. I book it to Harry’s building and ride the elevator up, every floor causing a further dip in my stomach.

The doors open to a dimly lit space. There’s music playing, something jazzy, and it smells like…vanilla? Vanilla roses?

“Hol-hold on,” I hear Harry chuckle. A head pops up from the other side of the sofa.

“Y/n?” He looks as confused as I am.

Oh my god, I realize as a giggle comes from the floor. They were on the fucking floor of the living room? They were on the floor of the living room f…what the fuck did I walk into?

“Just back with this,” I squeak, holding up the bottle.

“Harry did you invite someone else?” The voice asks from below with another laugh. He sighs, disappearing again. I hear a very distinct wet noise before he pops back up again, I look at the doors of the elevator trying even harder not to give in to the panic attack that was looking more and more tempting.

“What are you doing here?” Harry approaches me with a softened voice. Wearing a robe. A silk robe. I knew he wore silk.

“You called—the bottle I’m sorry it totally slipped my mind I-“

“I told you to call me?”

“I did, you didn’t pick up! I thought I should swing by-“

“I thought you had a party?” His forehead scrunches.

“I…” the pieces come together. Did I take this too seriously because Harry didn’t even look angry? Great. I was an idiot and proving to Harry I had no life. “It ended. Early. I…I wanted to fix my mistake and bring the bottle.”

He takes it from my hand, still confused. “Y/N.”

I wait for him to continue but he doesn’t. And lord, in this climate with him in just a robe hearing my name on his lips is not okay. I was going to pass out.

“I’ll leave.” I go back to the elevator but he starts talking again.

“I asked you to call me so I could ask-“ he stops when I turn back around to listen. He closes the gap between us again with a sigh, and I don’t realize my face was still streaked with tears. It was probably more noticeable in the elevator light. He takes his finger and swipes across my cheek, his brows furrowing.

“Sorry,” I swipe my cheek to remove the remaining evidence. “I’ll leave you to it.”

He clears his throat and takes a step back. “Thank you for coming back.”

I nod.

“If you’re going to leave early next time, make sure you finish everything I’ve asked you to do. Don’t skip out like this again.”

“Yes yeah of course,” I stutter, relieved to fit back into our usual roles. For a second there, I thought Harry was going to be kind. And that would have been way worse.

“Good night Y/N. See you Monday.”

“Good night Mr. Styles.”

Gray’s not home by the time I get back. I wake the next morning to his side untouched.

So I do the only thing that felt good these days, I curl up into a ball and cry.

***

Taglist - leave me a message if you’d like to join it :)

#harry styles fic #writingsfromhome #harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #asks #harry styles angst #harry styles series #musician!harry #dos and donts #ahhh #i didn’t edit this too much it all kind of came out at once #so ignore any errors #hope this is fun to read #it was fun to write

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sguidwards-bestfriend · 1 year

Text

Dp x dc thoughts and stuff

New Dimension, Who's This?

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Okay okay wait what if ghosts sort of feed off their own energy supply or like humans make our own blood they make their own ecto.

But Danny is a halfa.

Maybe he doesn't make any or just not in his human form. So when his powers use it up he has to find a way to get more.

In Amity that isn't really a problem, but if he's not in Amity? If he's not even in his dimension?

...

Danny is king, he has been for a few years now. Lets say he's 20 something and he's still learning his og powers as well as his new kingly eldritch ones.

He makes a portal, goes in to check it out, and gets stuck when he doesn't have enough juice to make another one to go back.

Portals aren't simple, even a portal for something human at a lower power level needs a lot to make a portal in their own dimension.

Creating one for an eldritch being, the king of the infinite realms, to another dimension requires an insane amount of energy. so he's stuck... somewhere, with no energy source. Transforming back into something vaguely human looking is taxing so he sits on the ground to take stock. The extra arms, paper white skin and hair, and the many ever shifting eyes are gone, but he can still feel the fangs and pointy ears, his crown shrunk down to a broach keeping a cape in place, it's covered in a frost so cold the fabric around it crystalizes, and his clothing is an odd mix of ghostly regalia and a black hoodie. It doesn't look bad, but he doesn't know how this dimension works just yet and he doubts this will help him "fit in".

Thankfully invisibility and intangibility come so naturally to him it's just the switch that requires ecto, similar to transforming, once he's there that's where he'll stay.

He needs to find a power source, wherever it is he's ended up, so he goes looking. He finds Lazarus pits but they aren't bottomless like the lakes in the zone. Some are like a dripping faucet, sure it'll fill back up at some point but who knows how long that'll take. Others were artificial, someone ripped a hole between realities, probably a small one since the leftover feeling of a portal wasn't there.

Danny stays invisible for nearly 2 months as he searches for a way home, time can act differently between dimensions, in Amity he might be gone an hour or a decade. The best thing to do for now is to get in contact with Clocky and hope they can figure it out together.

While emptying another pit he hears an angry man yell "You said this one wasn't empty."

An obviously nervous voice answers, "It was full this morning, Sir."

"This is the last one we have any record of!" there's a crash that intrigues Danny so he pops above the surface to catch a glimpse.

His stomach falls when he sees a Vlad looking fruit loop tearing apart a makeshift lab in a cave. Equipped with the same ridicules cape and beard.

There is a woman sitting on a folding chair, her legs are crossed and she very obviously is done with whatever fruit loop 2.0 is doing.

He was expecting to find more than 4! If that's the last of the leaks he needs to find another source asap.

"We can head to Gotham." the woman says, still uninterested as she pulls at a thread on her sleeve. "That place has always been a cesspool for everything weird."

"Nyssa." the man takes a breath, no longer yelling he continues, "We've tried that."

The woman stands, she looks scarier calm than the fruitloop does angry. "No, we tried to find one. We couldn't search there cuz of the bats, but if there are a few diversions we could get enough equipment into the sewers and we'd continue our search unnoticed."

Danny doesn't care much about the rest, he needs to get to Gotham before they do. He just needs to find where that is.

...

Jason Todd came back from the dead a few years ago. [We can leave him at around 23, idk what age he was when Talia plopped him into the pits.]

He's angry ALL the time, it fogs his mind so much it feels like he's no longer in control of his body. He knows he nearly killed one of his brothers, possibly two, but they ignore it so he does too.

He hasn't seen his family much since he was... brought back. As always, something pushes him to take action when he would rather not.

This time it's a rumor amongst his lackeys about someone planning on killing Redhood. They don't know he and Red are the same person, so he was planning on leaving the helmet at a safe house and sticking around to give orders and keep an eye on things.

That plan falls through when a group of three come up to him, they think he spends the most amount of time with the boss and want to keep their leader safe, but don't feel they have that kind of relationship with him to show how worried they are. They push Jason to take Redhood and hide.

His way of doing things creates a pretty even playing field amongst the lackeys, other than Redhood himself. If he refuses he's not a team player, if he tries to advise against it they'll think he's the one trying to kill his own alter ego.

He has to go somewhere none of his enemies know of, but also where none of his allies know.

That's how he's ended up being shuffled into the manor by Alfred, duffle bag in his arm and a headache so horrendous it's hard to understand what Alfred is saying.

Jason had been at the manor for two weeks, in that time he'd heard of two territory fights by crime alley, someone emptying the Lazarus pits around the world, and the assassination attempt on him hasn't played out yet.

He was going insane with his family on him at all times. No matter what he did someone was with him.

He knew telling them he felt ill and didn't want to hurt an innocent if the rage took over wasn't the best idea, but he couldn't think of one that would work as well to get them on his side.

That meant, however, that he wouldn't be able to go out on patrol at all nor leave the manor alone.

Damian, of all of them, was the one that helped him. He still acted like the spoiled brat he always was, but he'd grown. He was calmer, not by much, but it took him longer to be set off than he used to.

It wasn't hard to convince him not to say anything, he still knew his brother after all he came prepared. An intricate knife from 15th century china he nabbed off a man with a sword collection that could rival Damians and a story of wanting to get back his cat that he had to leave at his main safe house was all it took to get Damian to agree.

With his needed entertainment (books and videogames), his cat stuffed inside his jacket (which yes, Emma did exist), and ice cream; they were making their way back to the manor at dusk. Jason froze, someone something was following them.

"Dami, do you have your sensor turned on."

"Of course I do." he puffed out his chest and stopped to push back his sleeve.

"Don't stop walking, check what's to my left." the building was boarded up. It hadn't been like that last time he was here.

"Don't tell me what to do." Damian caught up with him before adding, "The building has no electricity or anything in it, but it's weirdly cold."

Just as they both look over to the building something phases through the boarded up window. "Run, now!"

As they take off towards the manor the creature follows them. He can't hear it, no footsteps, no heartbeat, no breathing, but he can feel it. And he wants to fight it.

"It's still following us." Damian whisper yelled. then Damian answered a question he didn't ask. "We're half a mile from the manor, on the road with the ice-cream shop."

"You have your com on?" His need to fight this thing only grew.

"Just with Tim. We should never have them fully off, something could happen."

Of course, he knew that, he suffered those consequences. He was probably the reason it was so enforced... and why it was followed.

Suddenly the roaring of an engine and a black car with all it's doors open comes racing down the road. Damian jumps in first, with Emma stuffed in his jacket he can't just throw himself in so he chucks his games and slides in feet first, hugging his chest to keep her safe.

The doors shut and the car speeds off past the entrance to the manor.

The winding roads should have shook the creature off their trail. It's not long before the car takes them down a secret entrance to the bat cave.

There's yelling before he's even out of the car.

"You could have got hurt!" Tim is yelling at him, "I don't care who you think you are, you put our brother in danger!" The rage starts back up, he was here first, he was the one who could protect Dami not him.

"Timmothy I fight crime."

Tim swivels on his heels, "That thing wasn't human. How would you have fought it exactly?"

Jason can feel himself being engulfed in it again, he's vision going green and his whole body tensing. "Listen here replacement."

"I am not!" Tim turns back around, the steam in him vanishes when he looks at Jason's face.

"Boys," a calm voice echoes through the cave. "No fighting in the cave. Go up stairs to breath or finish outside."

Jason ignores Tim and Dami as he walks to the elevator. He can't look at Alfred, can't let him see him like this.

Once out from behind the bookcase he lets Emma down gently, then flops onto the couch. If they know what's good for them they'll find another way up.

They don't apparently and all three walk out the same exit, bickering.

The noise erases the effort he'd made to quite the pits, as he stands to shut them up the creature floats up through the table.

A terrifying creature with long teeth, pointy ears, long curved nails and a cap hiding a thin hunched figure leans towards him. As he jumps away the thing grabs him and latches on.

Jason tries to shake it off, but it's almost like it's stuck to him. Not physically, but there is something holding them together and it's not the creature.

Suddenly a bright light flashes and the creature turns onto a young man.

"Why's the ecto in this dimension so shit." It... he looks tired, there are bags under his eyes and his skin looks sickly. He's draped over Jason, at first he thought the man was holding Jason in place, but it seemed more like he was holding himself up.

Tim stopped in his tracks. "What the fuck?"

"Language."

"Sorry Alf, but uh... What's happening?"

The man mumbled something, he rested his head on Jason's shoulder, he could see the effort it took to speak louder. "I'm so hungry dude. Why are you the only liminal person I've come across? It makes no sense."

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

#eldritch danny #Dp x dc thoughts and stuff #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc au #danny phantom #jason todd

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elliespillowprincess · 8 months

Text

SHES MY DRUG

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pt 1

pt 2

pt 3

a/n: this is my first ever (kinda) fic so it kinda sucks and is all over the place.. rockstar/band ellie has been on my mind too much lately so yk i had to.

c/w: modern au, reader is in college (premed), biker ellie!!! smut next part!! mentions of smoking, drinking and drugs (reader and ellie), fem reader, plus size reader, insecure reader, fluff, abby is readers mean ex (abby lovers im sorry, i still love her) angst, body dysmorphia, fatphobia, race of reader not specified, TERRIBLY WRITTEN, not proofread

WHY YOU SHOULD NOT SUPPORT NEIL DRUCKMANN

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“hey did you hear about the music festival in town this weekend?” your friend, liliana, asks, making you wake up from the trance your computer put you in. you and liliana had been friends prior to college, meeting in your honors anatomy class in high school. with a similar career goal in mind, you two decided to go to the same college and become roomates. you two had been in your towns coffee shop for hours, trying to finish an assignment your biology professor gave you two.

“there’s a festival here? nobody ever comes out here.” you reply. nobody has ever done any concerts, festivals, or performances in your town. it was so small, they wouldn’t make enough profit so it just didn’t seem worth the trip. the only performances you ever saw were done by drunken men in your college bar.

“yeah! i don’t really know anyone that’s going though. it’d be nice to check out!”. she scrolls to find a post advertising the festival, with a list of who’s going. to nobody’s surprise, the list is small; 3 performers. “the tickets are only $50, we should go!!” she says whilst you’re reading the informative post. “i don’t know, lili, i mean who even are these people? is it even worth our money?” the idea of wasting your weekend at a festival, where you don’t know anyone playing, when you could be studying for finals makes you nervous.

“come onnn y/n, we can’t waste our uni years studying all the time! when we graduate, we’re gonna be swamped with med school work, might as well make the most out of the time we have!” liliana says cheerfully. sure, you could spare the hours, but you had so much on your plate. finals, work, and not even mentioning the fact you just broke up with your girlfriend of 4 years. you look at her face, she’s using puppy-dog eyes to hopefully persuade you into going. “i’ll think about it.”

you’re laying in your dorm room, back hunched over your laptop, with your hands in your hair. liliana was staying at her boyfriends house for the night, leaving you all alone. the amount of studying you’ve done in the past hours giving you a throbbing headache and double vision. you harshly close your laptop, saying “i’ll do it later.” in your head, lazily getting up to grab some advil from your medicine cabinet. you open the familiar bottle and pop a few pills into your mouth. walking to your bed, you plop down, and begin scrolling mindlessly on instagram.

then you remember what your friend was telling you about earlier, and you decide to look at your towns instagram. a new post making you curious as nothing had been posted since the fourth of july fireworks at the towns lake. you click on it, a flashy banner lighting up your screen.

GOLDWHIT GROVES FIRST EVER MUSIC FESTIVAL; FEATURING:

BEHIND THE ANGER

ELLIE WILLIAMS

DRAW MY BLOOD

THIS SATURDAY ONLY

you chuckle, finding the names of the bands amusing. one of them, however, drew your attention. the only one who was seemingly a solo performer, ellie williams. you decide to close your towns page and type the name into your search bar. your eyebrows raise at the amount of fan accounts this “ellie” has. you click on the only account with the blue verification symbol on it, her page filling your screen.

holy shit.

she was hot. like, really hot.

you click on her most recent post and it’s a video of her at one of her concerts. she’s playing an electric guitar furiously with gritted teeth. you hear girls screaming and see their hands reaching out trying to feel her. clearly, she craves all the attention so she pulls off her white wife beater, throwing it into the crowd. the screaming only intensifies as she has a douchey smile on her face. the video cuts of and you scroll through the different videos the post has, all of the same nature. you read the caption, “see you next time, dallas.” with no tags.

you open your messages app and begin typing to liliana.

you: ok maybe we should go to that festival i just stalked one of the performers and FUCKKK she’s hot

the bands have goofy names tho

“behind the anger” boy shaddup

you wait until you see the bubble appear, indicating she’s responding.

lili😦: TOLD U WE SHOULD GO! venmo me the money im buying tickets rn.

you laugh softly at her excitement to go, and open venmo, sending her $50. another message pops up.

lili😦: *photo attachment*

who were you looking at btw?

you open the message seeing the qr code for your ticket.

you: that ellie williams chick she looks like an asshole but a HOT asshole yk

i want her to play me like that guitar

gonna become a groupie😋

your tiredness takes over after texting lili for the past few hours, telling her goodnight and closing your phone.

the brightness of the morning sun wakes you up. it’s saturday, and thank GOD you had no classes today. you stay in your bed, opening tiktok. it kinda creeps you out that the first video is an edit of the girl you were gawking over last night. as the edit plays, you become even more excited for the festival later in the day. you look to the top of your screen for the time, 12:37. you partially curse yourself for letting yourself sleep in that late, getting up to brush your teeth.

lili😦: ARE U EXCITED FOR TN??

andrew is asking if he can come

smh he’s so clingy

kinda cute tho

the pinging of your phone causes you to finish brushing your teeth, spitting out the foam in your mouth and wiping your face.

you: i don’t mind

yall better not be like those concert couples

sitting on his shoulders n shit i’ll knock you off

you didn’t really mind as you’ve known andrew as long as you’ve know liliana. they’ve been together for the past six years, and you guys used to go on double dates with your ex all the time, it was like a little group.

lili😦: LMFAOOO we won’t

can we get ready tg 🥺

you have all the cute body glitter

you: sure come home whenever

you turn on the shower, grabbing a towel from the cabinet before hopping in. while washing your body, you begin thinking about what you’re gonna wear. you start to think about what ellie williams would notice you in, before laughing at yourself for being so delusional. she doesn’t know you, or care about you.

you’re just another girl.

hours had gone by, liliana and her boyfriend were hanging out at your shared apartment, pregaming and getting ready. the festival started at 4, and ended at 10. “hey y/n? where’s the-“ you walk in, and liliana is making a gawking face. “you look SO hot hello?” beaming at you. partially, you feel a little silly. you’re wearing the outfit she picked for you: a lacy cami, short black skirt, and a leather jacket. you have dark smudgey eye makeup, dark red lipstick, and star clips in your hair.

“i feel dumb.” you say, looking down and laughing at yourself. you never wore revealing clothes, being wayyyy too insecure to show yourself off this this. i mean, your boobs were spilling out of your shirt, your ass visible under your skirt, and your stomach uncovered. “shut the fuck up, you look good. we gotta leave soon- shit wait do you have pasties?”

as andrew drives the three of you to the concert, liliana in the front and you in the back, you become nervous. what if someone’s mean? what if something bad happens? what if it gets too cold? what if you start your period?

“y/n?” the calling of your name makes your head perk up. “we’re putting on that ellie chick, gotta know some of the music if you’re gonna SMASH her tonight!!” she says with a giggle. you roll your eyes as lili goes to her music app and selects her top song.

she’s my drug

the title pops up along with a photo of ellie lighting what looks like a joint. the song starts and it eases your nerves, her raspy voice over the melodic electric guitar makes a perfect combination. the excitement for the festival grows once again as the three of you near the festival.

you were kinda surprised at the amount of people that came. it looked like the entire town was there. there were a lot of unfamiliar faces wearing the bands merch. you saw a lot of girls wearing shirts with ellie williams’ tour dates on the back. “i hope the bands aren’t shit.” andrew says, laughing and getting out of the car. “at least we know one of the performers isn’t.” the three of you, out of the car, walk to the entrance. there were old-looking metal detectors that look like they were borrowed from the local police department. you all go through and have your bags checked and tickets scanned, walking towards the one and only stage.

the first band, behind the anger, got on stage. not many people were going crazy, but there were a few drunken men screaming their songs. liliana and andrew were enjoying them, but you were dying for something to drink, craving a shitty festival cocktail and a cigarette. tapping liliana on the shoulder, “hey, guys? i’ll be right back, i’m gonna grab something to drink.” you shout over the music. “alright, don’t take too long! your girlfriend should be out soon!” you roll your eyes laughing and shuffle your way out of the crowd.

walking up to the one and only vendor, you gaze on the menu. different beers, seltzers, cocktails, and liquors. “can i just cut infront of you? i gotta get up there soon.” you hear a voice behind you say. you turn around, partially offended and, holy shit.

it felt like a movie, a book, a fanfiction. what are the chances that she’s infront of you right now? you blink your eyes, not really believing what you’re seeing. nobody’s around you two besides the vendor, shocking as you’d expect girls flocking around her. it’s her. it’s ellie williams.

“excuse me?” you blurt out, not realizing how rude you sounded. i mean, you were just standing there, the only one in line, not moving. was it rude for her to ask. she kind of laughs at you, kissing her teeth. you got a good chance to look at her. she’s wearing cargo pants with a black wifebeater shirt that lifted slightly, allowing you to see what looks like abs, her tattoo covering her forearm, and her hair tied messily in a half-bun.

“i said,” she says, taking a half step towards you, “can i just cut infront of you?” you look around, dumbfounded. “no, you can’t. i’m ordering right now.” you say, matter-of-factly. you spin on your heels and order whatever shitty cocktail your eyes first land on and she chuckles at your behavior. the vendor types it into his tablet. “that’ll be $9.24. cash or card?” you open your purse, looking for the $10 bill you stuck in your purse for this exact reason. of course, like a fucking movie, it’s gone. “sorry just give me one sec.” you say, furiously looking through your purse, embarrassed.

“i got it, put it with mine. lemme get a rum coke.” the girl says flatly, slightly pushing you aside. you roll your eyes at the push and step aside, very embarrassed at the entire interaction. you grab a cigarette from your purse and attempt to light it, but the fluid is all out.

of course. how much more cliché could this get? ellie puts her card away in her wallet and shoves it into her front pocket as the vendor goes to make the two drinks. “need help?” she says, reaching her hand into her pocket and getting out a lighter, it was black and very scratched up. “these are bad for you, y’know?” she says in a cocky tone before grabbing her own and lighting it. the two of you were so far away from the rest of the crowd it that it was almost quiet.

“i’m studying to be a doctor, i know.” you say, the cigarette hanging limply between your lips still attempting to light it. “what’s a smart girl like you doing smoking and drinking then huh? you’re the one who’s supposed to tell people not to.” she says, bringing the lighter to the stick in your mouth and lighting it for you, the closeness of your face to her hands making you nervous. “pineapple cocktail and a rum coke?” you hear the vendor shout; the moment breaks and ellie pushes the lighter into her pocket before grabbing the two drinks, handing you yours before turning around and waving slightly, with the cigarette in her mouth.

“see you up there, doll.”

“bitch you will not believe what just happened” you say, finally making it back to where andrew and liliana were after having to shove through the crowd, almost spilling your drink all over yourself. “i just spoke t-“ the sound of screams interrupts your sentence and people push you and your friends forward, trying to get closer to the stage. you look up to see what is making people so eager, and see her. and holy shit, does she look good on stage. “how are we doing tonight, goldwhit grove?” she says into the mic, making the squeals of the girls around you erupt even louder, some drunkenly trying to take their shirts off before their more sober friends stop them.

after speaking into the mic for a bit about god knows what, you could barely hear her, she strums her guitar making people scream even louder. “what should we start out with?” she slurs into the mic. she looks like she’s on something, but what musician isn’t. you hear people screaming different names you haven’t heard of, before she says “she’s my drug? that’s all yall wanna hear.” she laughs before starting the song. it is her top song for a reason, it sounds phenomenal. you’re trying to enjoy your time, but the amount of people pushing you and stepping on your feet is annoying you.

after a few songs you hear her voice echo, “guys, let’s back it up a bit, you’re crushing people.” part of you wants to think she said that because she was looking at you, but you reality check yourself quickly. nobody listened, and you feel someone step on your heel for the hundredth time, finally deciding to say something.

“did you not hear her? i can barely breathe dude chill out.” you say to the drunken girl behind you. she looks angry, angry that you had the balls to speak up. she shoves you aggressively, making you bump into the person in front of you. now they’re mad at you too, for bumping into them so harshly. you try defending yourself when you feel a cold drink splashed on your chest. your final straw.

you shove your way out of the crowd, leaving behind your friends and deciding you’ll wait until ellie’s performance is over to join them again. once youre out, you make eye contact with the girl on stage. she has her head low and it almost looked like she was looking at you. you get lost on her, she’s playing so aggressively but strategically. before your imagination goes too far, you see her look around to the rest of the crowd, girls screaming when they look her direction.

you walk away, deciding to take a seat on the grass and light a cigarette while you wait. there were a lot of other people sitting around you, assuming they left for the same reason. you’re scrolling mindlessly on your phone until you hear a familiar voice.

“y/n?”

you look up, and it’s her. why the fuck did she have to be here? you were actually enjoying yourself, besides the few rude people, and she had to show up and ruin it all.

“what the fuck are you doing here abby?” you spit out. you’re furious. you haven’t spoken to her in a few weeks, and there were actually days you didn’t think about her at all. “hey, i was just trying to be nice. what are you all butt hurt about?” she says, towering over you sitting on the grass. she always made you feel small, not just physically, but mentally too. you sigh, not wanting to let her control your emotions any longer. the partially-distant sound of ellie’s guitar stopped, making it seem so much more quiet.

“you here with ava?” you spit out at her. she looks like she took that offensively, even though she was the one who cheated on you. “what’s that supposed to mean?” she says back, her tone becoming more aggressive. you push your cigarette into the grass, putting it out and standing up. “what are you wearing?” now that you’re closer, you notice her cheeks are red, and so are her eyes. she’s crossed. you know how she acts when she’s drunk, so you simply gather your things, trying to ignore the entire situation and join your friends. the people who were previously around you had gotten up to go back to the stage as ellie had gotten off.

“where are you going?” it sounds like she expects you to stay. to come running back. to cling to her. “to my friends.” you flatly state while walking away. you feel a hand grab your wrist. “i’m talking to you, y/n. it’s rude to walk away from people when they’re talking to you, y’know?” her tone is that of mockery. like you’re a child and she’s trying to teach you a lesson. “did the breakup make you gain that much weight? god i really ruined you huh?” you try to yank your hand away, “let go of me abby, seriously it’s not funny.” her grip doesn’t subside and only grows stronger, making you wince.

“she said no dude, can you not take a hint?”

you turn around and see ellie walking towards the conflict. this is so cliche. “are you a groupie now?” abby laughs at you, and as soon as she says that ellie shoves her off. as attractive as ellie was, abby was stronger. she was built, and she could take down almost anyone. “stop, this is dumb.” you say as they get close to each other. “yeah, yeah it is. don’t know why i’m getting all mad over a groupie slut. you can have her.” she says, walking out of the venue. you see a ditsy blonde girl following after her asking if she’s okay as she furiously walks, not responding to her. you try not to cry at her words, why does she still have such an effect on you?

“you okay?” you hear ellie asking you, almost forgetting she was there. “yeah- yeah. sorry about that. and thank you.” you say, extremely embarrassed while wiping your tears. she’s just looking at you. not saying anything. she didn’t know what to say.

“wanna go get a drink to cheer you up?”

that’s how you ended up in a random bar, with ellie fucking williams. after she asked you to drinks, she took you to the back stage, careful not to be spotted by any fans, where she grabbed her bags and headed for the exit. she was able to sober up before the ride home. while walking out, girls spotted her, running up and asking for her auto graph. she obliged for a few until one asked to sign her boobs, “i gotta go, girls.” her bodyguards following behind the two of you making them back off. you were expecting a van or a car, but no.

she rides a motorcycle.

she just got hotter.

lifting the seat, she tosses her bag into the large compartment, replacing the extra helmet which she handed to you. your heart was racing, you’ve never ridden on a motorcycle before. you nervously put the helmet on your head. “here, lemme help.” she says, pulling the band tightening the helmet ensuring it’s on tight, before tapping it lightly and swinging a leg over her motorcycle. she reached her bent elbow out, waiting for you to use her to help you get on. you grab onto her arm and swing your leg over, getting more comfortable.

“hold on.”

“so where’d you hear my music?” she says, babysitting another rum and coke looking at you intently. she was careful not to drink too much knowing she had to drive home. the two of you had been at the bar for two hours, just talking. a few people coming up every so often to get her autograph. “i actually just only heard about it the other day, through the festival.” you say shyly, hoping she won’t take offense. she laughs softly looking down. “i guess it’s a good thing for me huh? got another monthly listener and a pretty girl talking to me.” everything she says is so blunt, so easy.

you start to wonder how many other girls she’s charmed with the same line.

“wanna head out?” she says. “you can come back to mine- fuck, i can take you to yours. sorry, that sounded desperate.” she laughs, picking up the two helmets and your purse, handing it to you. with the bill paid, the two of you walked to her bike. she opens the door and waits for you to walk through.

“why don’t we go back to yours?” you say boldly. she looks surprised, and sets her helmet on her bike, placing yours gently on your head. she puts hers on, hops on the bike, and helps you get on.

“alrighty.”

you didn’t know how much you’d actually like being on a motorcycle. there’s so much adrenaline, she’s speeding through cars and air is whipping around the helmet. your chest is pushed tightly to her back, your hands wrapped around her waist. luckily, her wearing her helmet made it impossible for people to spot her, making it an easy ride back to her hotel, the only hotel in town. parking her bike in a designated spot, she holds her arm out allowing you to slide off easily, her following behind you. she opens up the bikes seat, grabbing her backpack, and locks it.

“we should hurry before someone spots you!” you giggle. the alcohol making you feel so light and ditsy, following her to her room like a lost puppy. she pulls the key out and unlocks it, holding the door for you and locking it after you. she tosses her things on the hotels desk as you lay down on her bed. smiling to yourself.

“what’cha smiling about pretty girl?”

you giggle, tapping the bed indicating her to lay next to you. “this doesn’t feel real” you laugh out as she crawls on the bed, “i mean, im living every gay girls dream right now, hello? i’m in a hotel with ellie *hic* williams!!” she laughs at your drunken state, reaching to the bedside mini fridge to grab a seltzer. “you’re cute, y/n”. your ears kinda perk up, not remembering when you told her your name.

“how do you know my name?” you say, squinting your eyes at her. she cracks open the can. “calm down, princess, i heard it when that dick was talking to you earlier.” you notice she becomes a little annoyed. “i’m glad i took money out of her pocket but fuck, i got douches at my show.” she takes a long drink from her can. your rose-colored glasses didn’t even care about abby right now, or how much ellie hated her from their first interaction, you just wanted more of her.

you snuggle closer to her, wanting to breathe her in. you’re on the left side of her, laying on your side as she’s on her back. the level of intimacy between the two of you makes your head spin. you guys just met. part of you feels bad that she, a fucking rockstar, probably wants more than a simple conversation and cuddling. you sit up slightly, trying to remove your shirt, “hey, what are you doing?” she says, looking confused. you’re struggling to take your shirt off, it being tight and you being drunk. “feel bad. you probably get girls eeeeveryday doin this.. know why you’s wanted m’here so- so i’ll do it.” your works are slurring and hardly making sense and you’re starting to get frustrated. partially from not being able to take off the uncomfortable shirt, and part from not wanted anything sexual now, not in this state and not when you hardly know her.

she grabs your hands and stops you, making you look at her. “hey, i don’t wanna do anything, ‘kay? we can watch a movie after i get you some clothes to change into.” you put your arms down watching her get up and get an oversized band tee. “don’know if it’ll fit, els.” you say, sadly. she turns around, waiting for you to try it on. “just try it, princess.” you try taking the shirt off again, but just can’t. you get so frustrated you start tearing up, making her turn around and help you. “m’gonna take it off okay?” you nod, lifting your arms as she helps you take your shirt off. “don’t look!!” you say, laughing and pushing her away. she turns around, laughing, “okay, okay” allowing you to put the shirt on and take your bra off from under the shirt. finally, you slip your skirt off.

“done!” you say, smiling watching her turn around as she makes eye contact with you, her face turning pink. she walks towards you, smiling down at you on the bed. “wanna watch a movie?” she asks, picking up a remote and a bag of what looks like joints, pulling one out along with the lighter in her pocket. you nod, asking “can i have one?” she closes the bag, replying “you’re way too drunk, sweetheart.” she flicks on the tv, putting on whatever shitty movie was playing on the hotel tv at the time. you both crawl under the bed, cuddling up into her. you hear a familiar click of the lighter, and the sound of the paper and weed burning. she plays with your hair, making you more and more sleepy, drifting off into a deep sleep state.

the next morning, you wake up unsure of where you are. you look around the room, its messy and there’s clothes, food, and drinks everywhere. you lift your head and look to the right and see none other, than ellie williams.

what the fuck happened last night?

#ellie williams #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams fluff #eillie williams x reader #rockstar ellie #rockstar gf #ellie williams smut

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lucysgraybird · 7 months

Text

part 2 of modern!uni!coriolanus x fem!reader. part 1 here, part 3 here. as promised, reader's a lil cuckoo which i hope yall are into because it's here to stay. on this, if anyone feels like offering thoughts -- would longer updates be preferable, or does it make no difference? the only tradeoff would be that they'd come out less frequently (once a week vs every 2-3 days). warnings: blood mention, minor suggestive material. this is not a healthy relationship but BOY is it fun

Coriolanus Snow, as it turns out, is wonderful to date, at least for you. You've been back from the winter holiday for a month, and though you've yet to make anything official with him, things are going very well. He doesn't text constantly, but there will always be a good morning text when you get back from the gym, and a good night text when you check your phone after hours at the library. He makes it clear that you're together when you're out with an arm around your waist or a hand over yours on the table, or with the faint bruises that trail across your collarbone and down your shirt. That's your favourite mark of your relationship: it's illicit, obvious. You know it makes other people a little uncomfortable, and you like that they can't seem to look away.

He's also fascinating. Orphaned when he was quite young and raised by his grandmother and cousin, you've learned that while he obviously has money now, he didn't always. He had a stint in the military to pay for school, and got a job for his best friend’s father as a thank-you for saving the boy’s life in battle. Apparently the friend had been court-martialed for something – Coriolanus wouldn't go into detail – and now they weren't as close. He now makes more money than most people would dream of twenty years out of school, and though it means he's almost always busy, you like that he's so dedicated.

Right now, you're bent over a sheet of stats equations at a table on the quad when Coriolanus sneaks up behind you. He drops a kiss on your head and settles in an open seat at your table.

“Hello,” you say, setting down your pen.

“Don't let me distract you,” he replies, pulling a book out of his bag. “I'll wait until you're done to talk.”

This is another thing you appreciate about Coriolanus. Besides that first date, he understands how much you value school and your grades – he actually seems to like it – and never expects to come first. You blow through the last few problems, check your work, and clip the paper neatly into your binder.

Coriolanus looks up from his book. “Finished?”

“Mhm.”

“Good,” he says. “How's that class going, by the way?”

You keep apprised of each other’s academic performances – you're both shooting to graduate valedictorian next year, so you've got a little bit of competition going. As far as you can tell, it only serves to push both of you further, as winning seems more of a reward if there's been a real challenge for it. This being said, he knows that your statistics class is giving you a little bit of trouble, just like you know that his Victorian literature class is driving him up the wall. You're going to win, but you'll let him hope.

“Not as badly as you might hope,” you tease. “I'm on track for a decent A. How goes the adventures in Victorian lit?”

He lifts his book miserably, revealing the cover of Middlemarch. You wince.

“Rough. Don't make winning too easy on me, though.”

“Wouldn't dream of it, sweetheart.”

You smile at the pet name, however targeted it is. “So did you come to make fun of my homework, or did you have something you wanted to talk about?”

“Right, yes. We've been going out for a little over a month now.”

“This is true.”

“And I think it's time we make some decisions. I'm not looking for something casual. Between school and studying for the LSAT and work, I don't really have the time to devote to something that's definitely not going anywhere.”

“I hope you're not proposing, Coriolanus.”

“Not at all. But I am asking if you would like to be my girlfriend, officially.”

“Oh! Yes.”

“Yes?” He seems surprised.

“I'm not particularly interested in anything casual either,” you say. “I’ve tried it and it doesn't work. I just get jealous.”

“I wouldn't have pegged you for the jealous type.”

“You haven't given me any reason to be. Believe me, if I'm jealous, I'll make sure you know.”

You regret saying that the minute you do – not because it's not true, but because it could be a little off-putting. But it seems to have the opposite effect for Coriolanus, who bares his teeth in a smile. The wider his smile gets, the more he looks like a wolf, the more you feel like he is waiting for the perfect moment to sink his teeth into your neck. Perhaps it should scare you, but it doesn't. It thrills you. It makes you want to tilt your head back and let him take hold, because you want to see your blood on his teeth and trickling down his chin, staining the starched white of his collar. You want to ruin this boy, which you would feel worse about thinking if you didn't get the sense that he wants to destroy you, too.

“I hope you would,” he says, lifting you from your reverie. “As long as it's okay that it goes both ways.”

“Of course.” Perfect.

“Are you free tonight?”

“I have a class that ends at 6, but after that, yes.”

“Would you like to meet my family? You'll love my cousin, and my grandmother…well. She doesn't like anyone, but she's interesting.”

“That sounds lovely,” you say, a thrill flooding you at going from occasional dates and make-out sessions to meeting his family in the course of an afternoon.

“Fine, then. I'll pick you up at 7.”

–

The Snow apartment is incredible. There's a sterility to its modernity that should be disquieting but isn't: you can't imagine Coriolanus growing up anywhere else. You're sitting with his cousin, Tigris, while he disappears to make drinks. The fabled grandmother was apparently refusing to make an appearance. Tigris seems anxious, fiddling with her floral skirt.

“So you're dating Coriolanus?” She asks finally. Your brows knit together – is she daft? Coriolanus introduced you as his girlfriend.

“Mhm. We've been going out for a little over a month.”

“Oh.”

When she doesn't say anything else, you shift uncomfortably in your seat.

“Coriolanus tells me you basically raised him,” you say, wanting to fill the silence.

Tigris nods. “He was such a kind little boy. I worry I didn't do enough sometimes, you know?”

What a weird thing to say. “I'm sure you did your best. I can't imagine it's easy bringing someone else up when you're a kid yourself. And he's turned out well, from what I can tell.”

“He can just be…intense. I'm sorry, I know this is strange, I just want you to know what you're getting into.”

You laugh lightly. “Maybe I need to find someone to give him this speech about me. I'll be okay, Tigris. I can be a lot too; I think we'll be good for each other.”

Coriolanus returns just at that moment.

“I think we'll be good for each other too,” he says, handing you and Tigris each a glass of red wine. “I hope my cousin hasn't been telling you too many embarrassing baby stories.”

Something passes over Tigris’ face – grief, maybe, or fear – before she settles into a demure smile.

“Not at all, Coriolanus. Your girlfriend is so sweet.”

He sits next to you and puts his free hand on your knee. “She's perfect, isn't she? I knew you guys would get along.”

Tigris gives him a tight smile, then lets her eyes go unfocused into space.

–

The rest of the night passes with much of the same uncomfortable conversation, until Coriolanus finally decides that it'd be best if he drove you home before it got too late. It's the first time you've seen him drive, and you just enjoy the way the streetlights cast shadows on the angles of his face and the way his hand sits hot and heavy on your thigh.

“I'm sorry if Tigris said anything strange to you,” he says finally. “She's been odd ever since I got back from being deployed.”

“She was fine. I think she was worried you'd be too much for me.”

A muscle jumps in his jaw. “She doesn't approve of my job. Or my ‘work-life balance’, as she calls it.”

“Sounds like she cares about you.” It's hard to say more, because you don't really know what he does for work. Something with national security or defense tech, but beyond that, you're in the dark. It also seems like there was more to the way Tigris was acting than just complaints about Coriolanus working too hard, but it's not your place to pry. Nor do you really care.

“No, you're right. She does. I just wish she'd keep her opinions to herself.”

“That’s fair. I'm still glad I got to meet her.”

“I am too. And I'm always glad to spend time with you.”

To say that, he takes his eyes off the road for a moment and gives you a sweet, close-lipped smile. You return it and place your hand over his on your thigh. His fingers dig in a little too hard, and you curl your nails like claws into his skin in reply. He pulls the car into a parking space in front of your apartment.

“Here you are.”

You turn to him and take in the way he's looking at you, the way his eyes have gone murky in the dark of the night and trail across the scooping neckline of your top. The skin on your neck is pristine again, and you need him to fix that.

“Would you like to come upstairs?”

“I was hoping you'd say that.”

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coryo snow #tom blyth #tom blyth fanfiction #tom blyth x reader #coriolanus x you #coryo x reader #coryo #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x reader

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machiten · 1 year

Text

thats my seat!

academic rival scaramouche x gn!reader headcanons

warnings: scaramouche(bro is a whole warning), foul language(it's scaramouche we're talking about here so), reader is mentioned to have bad eyesight, fights, angst, academic validation, bad parenting

barely proofread lmao im tired, it's 3:15 am and im starving. there will be a chapter 2 ofc i just wanted to post something goddamn my blog has been empty for so long (4 days) didn't have a way to keep track of the word count but it's kinda long. anyways hope u enjoy!!

oh god

when i say rival, i mean full on brawls on the school hallway

so let's say you've been top of your school since day one. your name has always been at the top of the score board every exam, always class representative, and well known as a smart kid ever since you steped on school premises.

you work hard to keep your grades up, your parents pay enough attention to your succesful brother and none for you

having a successful brother plants high expectations on you. i mean, he did very well, so why cant you? you both have the same blood running through your veins. your parent's praise, that is all you've ever wanted. and yet you're not even informed if there's a family outing, leaving you in your house alone

it has been like that for years

not until one day, you enter into the classroom and someone else is sitting in your chair. someone unfamiliar is sitting on your chair.

"hey, excuse me. i sit there." you pointed at what is supposed to be, your chair. "what, i dont see any names on it." Ok, what. when you finally look up to the culprit, my goodness. Fierce purple eyes that looks like it holds the entire universe, his skin as fair as a maiden, lips plum as a springs fruit, a beauty mark at the underside of his right eye, and his hair a unique color of indigo that is cut in a weird jellyfish-ish hairstyle. while yes, he looks ethereal, not gonna lie (if he had longer hair you might've mistaken him as a girl) his personality certainly does not match his elegance. an annoyed look currently adorned his face, as if you disturbed his peace.

"done checking me out? i know im hot, i get that look everyday so dont ever think you're special." and now it changed into a cocky smirk. the nerve! not only is he sitting on someone else's chair but it seems like his head is getting bigger too. "well excuse me, i havent seen your around school until today so im guessing that you're the transfer student our teacher talked about last week. but do you mind finding a new spot, i sit there." you glared at him.

"no i like it here. here's a better idea, why don't you find a new spot. im the new student here, show some courtesy."

"no- what, go away thats my seat!"

"alright everyone, settle down- oh, i see that the new student is here already," the teacher finally came in the classroom, cup of steaming hot coffee in his hand. Everyone sat down on their seats while you are still standing up waiting for this person to look for another seat. Lmao guess what, he didnt move.

"(name), c'mon sit down. i know getting a new friend is exiting but we have to greet the new student properly. now go find your seat."

"wait but sir--"

"sit down, (name)"

"yeah that's right (name), sit down" a voice beside you spoke. you looked over to the new student adorning a triumphant grin at your loss. and so you are now forced to sit at the back, barely seeing what's in front because of your poor eyesight, and wearing a vengeful spirit.

epic first meeting

the seats in the back are okay, its breezy and you now sit next to xiao (his music taste is so good) but yeah, you cant really see the board clearly so you get notes from mona at the front

at first, it was a one sided rivalry. how hated how rude and bratty he was and at that time, he didnt seem too care (like he get those everyday). but then he started fighting back and oh boy he hasn't had this much fun in years!

the way you retort back to his harsh words is so amusing to him. usually, no one would dare talk to him in a degrading manner but then you came into his life, claiming that he's sitting on your chair, and it was never the same ever again.

now, he looks forward to everyday. he rises up earlier so that he can sit at your chair first, he keeps looking at the classroom door everytime someone enters (in case it's you so that he can give that shit eating grin), he loves how your face gets messed up when he wins an argument, he loves how small your hands are compared to his when you have a brawl in the hallways, and most of all, he loves it when you give him the shit eating grin when you win something (he says he let's you win sometimes because he pitied you, but is it really?)

to him, this is fun, amusing, entertaining. but to you? you've never felt this much hate in a human being, ever.

scaramouche is smart as fuck and he demonstrated that loud and clear

he aced the math test that the teacher gave that wasn't even taught to him

in presentations, he speaks loud and clear and you can really understand the point he's making

he doesn't really like group works (you noticed) but if he was put in a group, he does most of the job flawlessly

sports? oh of course. he's really good at baseball (pitcher). he's also good at other sports but not as good as baseball

oh and pray that you don't get him as your opponent in debates, you will be grilled like a brisket

did i mention he sleeps in like 70% of his classes? it's not like the teachers can do anything about it. he excels in everything, at least let him sleep as a gift

the only times he would be awake is when he pulls on your strings

but of course, you're also good in all of these, that's why you both are rivals

you fight almost everyday for the top spot (and for your original seat) to the point where its a daily routine to everyone else to see you both pinching and arguing in the classroom

He doesn't have any close friends (ahem childeahem) and it's either bc ppl are intimidated by him or he just doesnt give a fuck about friends

maintaining grades is one thing, winning against him is another

you are very intellegent, yes, but you work very hard for your grades every night. losing sleep studying for upcoming quizes and making sure your projects are perfect. unlike him who doesnt even try

you havent seen him study once

and it makes you see yourself lower. you're both equally in par with your grades but thats when he doesn't even try. what happens when he takes everything seriously? what if he studies as hard as you do? where will you stand then?

but when you got 2nd place for the 3rd time this year, he took it too far

"what the hell?! this is the third time!" you looked at the results in the bulletin board expecting to see your name in first place. you studied hard, right? so then why,,,

"oh oops, looks like i did a little too well again this time. aw and i didn't even answer some of the questions because i felt bad for beating you the last two times." a snicker is heard behind you and sure enough, piercing indigo eyes is looking at yours in pure pity. "thanks i guess. are you happy now? that's three times in a row!" aether beside you is now having a deadpan expression, expecting the worst. 'alright here we go again'.

"oh yes very, you know what makes me even happier? your declaration that you're inferior to me. why do you even try anyways, it's clear to everyone that im better. you're just wasting your time burying your head in your books and notes when we both already know who's coming at the top. imagine not meeting your parent's expectations." he's now looking down on you, beating you up with words that you know damn well are true. but that doesn't mean you're not gonna fight back.

"what."

"oh you know, maybe if you tried harder, the cost of your education might be worth it for your parents. honestly, if i we're them id--"

before he could finish his sentence, a loud echoing smack is heard all across the hallway, making everyone's attention turn to the commotion. scaramouche head is now turned the other way, his cheeks beginning to flare from the hit as he glared at the culprit, you. "you motherfucking bitc-!" you tackled him and due to surprise, he fell back. aether is now alert, shouting your name trying to get you to your senses.

you gripped scramouche's collar, rasing his head from the floor and slamming it back down. "you're an asshole, you know that?! i try my best everyday and this is what i get?!!" he fights back, hand on your arm that's trying to get a hold of his hair and another on your neck, holding back your weight.

"you don't know what it's like!! you will never know what it's like being compared to your brother everytime they get a chance!! you dont know what it's like going home to nothing but words of disappointment when you did everything you can to get their approval!! you will never know what it's like for your efforts to go to waste!! you will never know the feeling of being kicked out of your own home and live in a run down apartment!! i work day and night, i lose sleep everyday, i barely have anything for myself to live, and now i have to deal with your ass every single day too?!!"

"(name)! calm down, hey-!"

"fuck off aether!"

every word you spat pricked scaramouche's heart and made him struggle from your assaults. this isn't fun anymore. he knew a bit of your situation, kazuha told him. but he never knew it was this bad. all he knew is about your parent's expectations. he didn't even attempt to fight back this time and just defends himself from your blows. 'shit, i took it too far.'

"you dont have to remind me of my incompetence! i already know, i know damn well i will never be enough!! you're right, why do i even try, right?! you're so fucking annoying, doing everything so effortlessly, like school is a nuisance!! can't i take a fucking break?!!" at this point, you cannot control your tears from falling into his cheeks, rolling down his porcelain skin.

"what are you--?!"

"why can't i be a genius like you?! why dont i have everything that you have?!! i did everything i can, what am i doing wrong?!" you are now saying intangible words that no one can decipher because of the mess of emotions you are feeling at that moment. you're about to deliver another blow when someone held you back.

"(name)! you're doing too much! thats enough!!" goddamn she is stronger than i thought, scaramouche deals with this everyday?? aether pulled you away from the tangled mess that you and scaramouche managed to create. you're struggling his hold but after a bit, you slumped down having no more strength to keep going, sobbing quietly. "...(name)?" aether said.

"...i am so tired of everything, why do i even keep trying. i.. i just want to make my parents proud..." sniffles could be heard from where you are being held my aether's arms. aether supported you from the groud and led you away from the scene and the prying eyes of other students. before you both can disappear completely, aether turned around and gave scaramouche a threatening glare. "i know you both bicker a lot but you took it too far. you are an asshole and you better change that attitude of yours or i will send you home even worse than your condition right now." and you both are gone.

scaramouche is still sitting on the floor, his arm supporting his weight, bruises are forming in his skin while he's craddling his cheek that is now very noticeably red and flaring from the slap you served him earlier. he doesn't know how to act, really. should he apologize? should he just walk away and like nothing happened? should he report you for physical abuse? he didn't know anything.

what he does know though is that he fucked up, big time. he knows that you'll never want to see his face ever again, he knows that nothing will be the same again, and he knows thag the feelings he has will never be reciprocated, after what he's done.

he actually just found out recently, when someone from the other class was making fun of you and he didn't like it one bit, he's the only one allowed to make fun of you, everyone back off. scaramouche can see the crowd dissipating, no longer interested since the main action is gone. he sat there on the floor the whole time, rethinking his life choices, wondering if he said things differently instead of those. would he be seeing you tomorrow? will you still argue with him about nonsensical bullshit? can he still hold your hand whenever you pinch him?

he heard footsteps and before he can look up, someone had smacked him in the head.

"what the fuck-!!"

"i want to say 'are you okay', but to be honest you kinda deserved that." a mop of ginger can bee seen hanging from someone's head.

"fuck off childe, and why did you smack me?!"

"because you deserve it. but y'know, it's nice having front row seats seeing you ruin your life because of that toungue of yours. aether's right you're an ass." he helped scaramouche from the floor, dusting his uniform from the filth. "ill take you to the infirmary." scaramouche can only nod, feeling lethargic after all that energy spent.

he hopes to see you the next day, acting like nothing ever happened.

part 2

#genshin impact #scaramouche #genshin headcanons #genshin scaramouche #genshin angst #angst #sumeru #kaedehara kazuha #aether #genshin kazuha #kunikuzushi #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #genshin impact drabble #genshin impact imagines #wanderer #genshin wanderer #wanderer x reader

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pink-amethyst-tarot · 9 months

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💌A Message From The Universe💌

P I L E 1 ~ P I L E 2 ~ P I L E 3

How to pick: Take a deep breath and choose between the three images above. It corelates with the message that is meant for you. Trust your intuiton; only you know what is truly best for you.

P I L E 1 ♡ ~ A New Perspective

Ten of Wands, The High Priestess, The Emperor, The Moon, Eight of Swords (Reversed)

You feel burdened. You feel disconnected from yourself and your intuition. I feel that the man problem, is that you don't trust yourself or your inner voice. Let that voice guide you. Listen to yourself because you know what is best for you. You don't have to listen to everyone who thinks they know what is best for you. With it being the holiday season and Christmas is days away, you may be around family that isn't all that supportive of you and what you want with your life. They have put you down since you were a kid but know that you are not that kid anymore. You are capable of standing on your own two feet and it's time to stop making excuses for their bad behavior. You don't have to keep that kind of negative energy in your life, even if they are your relatives. Just because they are blood related, doesn't mean you have to call them family. For a lot of you, this person is a father figure in your life, but they haven't treated you the way that a father should. You were a kid and you deserved better then, and you deserve better now. Your anxiety around this is very loud but you know what you want to do more than anything. You know what path you want to take, and you know what people you want to cut off. Let yourself be happy. Go into this new year prioritizing your wants, needs, desires, hopes and dreams. It's time someone chose you and who better than yourself. Open up your heart and your mind to new possibilities; a world where you can have what you want. It's time for a new perspective.

Channeled Song: I'm Tired by Labrinth ft. Zendaya

now the tide is rollin' in // I don't wanna win // let it take me, let it take me // I'll be on my way // how long can I stay // in a place that can't contain me // hey Lord, you know, I'm tired // hey, Lord, you know I'm tired //

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P I L E 2 ♡

King of Pentacles, Seven of Cups (Reversed), Four of Wands (Reversed), Nine of Wands, Ace of Pentacles

You have been doing some spring cleaning around your life. You have been making changes that you saw needed to be made and it has really brought you back to reality; almost like you are sobering up. You could also be on a sobriety journey and if you are, know that I am very proud of you and I'm rooting for you. If no one else is in your corner, know that I am. You have been doing a lot of hard work and you should be celebrating yourself but, for some reason, you aren't. You may have this mindset of believing that you can't celebrate because there is so much more work to do. That may be true; we are all works in progress. That doesn't mean you shouldn't celebrate and be proud of how far you have come! I'm so very proud of how far you have come. You're looking at all that you still have to do, but you aren't paying attention to what you have done. You can rest, relax and bask in your victories. Take a break because you have earned it. You are meant to be prosperous, and you have new opportunities coming in and you should be confident in taking them because you worked hard to get them. Again, I am so proud of you and all that you have done. Keep going and do not give up.

Channled Song: A Brand New Day by The Wiz Cast

everybody, be glad // because our fear and dread is gone // freedom, you see, has got our hearts singing so joyfully // just look about // you out it to yourself to check it out // can you feel a brand new day? // can you feel a brand new day? //

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P I L E 3 ♡

The Star (Reversed), Two of Pentacles, Four of Swords, The High Priestess, Ace of Pentacles

Your head is not in the right place, right now. You are too focused on the negative and it seems that you have lost hope. You're working to balance things on your own and that is only making things harder for you. You may feel like you're at sea and the boat going up and down with the harsh waves. Let go of the things that you don't need and ask for help with the things that you cannot. I'm getting that you are very overwhelmed at this time. I'm seeing juggling and everyone keeps adding more and more balls, making it so hard to keep up. You don't have to take it. You are allowed to rest and to have some peace and quiet. You may be feeling like you can't take a break right now because, if you don't do it who will? I'll counter that with, why was it set up for you to be the only one who is able to handle things? Why is it you or nobody? Why can't people do it themselves? Sometimes, you just have to say, "if I have to do it, it's not going to get done," and that's that on that. You know that these people are capable and able. They just know they can rely on you to always do it. Stop being reliable. They need to learn to do things on their own and without you because you are not going to always be there.

I don't have a specific channeled song, but I am seeing vacations, beaches and just relaxing, which you deserve, so if you can get that, I suggest that you do.

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LEGAL DISCLAIMER: FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY. THESE READINGS ARE FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY. no guarantees are implied. These readings are not a substitute or replacement for any professional help or services. My readings are not a substitute for any form of professional legal, medical/psychiatric, relationship, religious/spiritual or financial/ business advice nor consultations. You should always see a professional legal/trained adviser for help in any matter. I am not responsible for any decisions/ actions you take.

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she-posts-nerdy-stuff · 11 months

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Welcome to my first ever fic! I have another one in the works as well but currently neither of them have a title because title's are hard, so for simplicity's sake this one is Kanej themed and when I share the other one I'll refer to it as Helnik themed.

Concept: Around ten years after the events of Crooked Kingdom, 25-year-old Captain Inej Ghafa frees Maya Olsen from a pleasure house in Ketterdam. Maya is looking for revenge against the man who out her in her position, a man who she knows nothing about except his name: Kaz Brekker.

Tags: @wraith--2 @lunarthecorvus @just2bubbly @real-fragments7

I've only tagged people who specifically said they'd like to read more, not everyone who expressed general interest, but if you'd like to be added to the list let me know! <3

Content Warnings: in more general terms I want to remind people to be aware of the nature of Kaz and Inej's experiences and relationship since even if I'm not directly addressing these things they tend to be implicit in any writing about them, but specifically to this chapter there's descriptions of blood/wounds, and implied sa references (not graphic).

Chapter One - Kaz

"Now listen," Kaz leaned back and ran a gloved hand through his hair, vaguely aware of the traces of blood he was leaving on his forehead, "this has been fun and all, but I promised my wife I'd be home in time for supper,"

He consulted his pocket watch and frowned.

"And I'm already running late,"

It was clear that the man tied to Kaz's chair had no idea what to say. Or maybe he just couldn't. His cheek was a bloody crater; his jaw tight at a painful looking angle. Kaz paused for a moment to survey his half-closed eyes, wondering if he'd done the job too well. But the man was still breathing his pathetic, shaky breaths, and his eyelids were quivering slightly. Kaz hit the chair leg with his crow's head cane, and the man shook back to life.

"Are we done here?"

The man nodded shakily, quivering as he leaned as far from Kaz as his chains would allow.

"Good. Then I'll see you next week, with the money," Kaz pulled a key from thin air and placed it on the man's knee, "Have fun getting out,"

He walked away, listening to the man attempt to call him back through a mouthful of blood right up until the door slammed shut. Kaz stretched, smiled, rolled his shoulders. That had gone well. He was late though - she wouldn't be happy. Speaking of which, Annika was leaning against the wall opposite him, picking at her nails with a knife. She must have news.

"Go check on him if he's not out in an hour. Cleanly, for now, but keep an eye on him. If he tries to run this week, put a bullet in his skull,"

"Why me?"

"You're in my line of sight. And on that, what are you doing here? Aren't you meant to be at the Crow Club?"

"Just came off a shift. Brought you a message,"

Kaz nodded.

"She's back?"

"And pissed at you," Annika confirmed, "She's coming to find you,"

Kaz was meant to go to her. If she'd decided to come to him, it could only mean one thing: he was in deeper shit than running late.

"Fine," he said, and marched upstairs.

" - something else!" Annika called after him.

Kaz turned.

"Yennefer Baars is dead,"

"Then it's a happy day for everyone. Except for me, because unlike other people's spouses when my wife suggests murder, she actually means it. Go to the dock's and rustle us up some attention, the Silver Six is quiet,"

And with that, ignoring Annika's brief mumble of protest, Kaz began to head up the stairs. Yennefer Baars was dead. So that's what Inej had been up to. She'd been gone for the last month, and as a rule they didn't tell each other what a job was until it was over - no sense in worrying each other over nothing. But that didn't mean they didn't guess at what the other was up to, and usually figure it out. Kaz knew that Inej wrote a goodbye note before every job she did and left it with a particular member of the Merchant Council and his risk-loving fiancé, to be passed on in case something went wrong. He only knew that because he did the same thing, and Jesper was a terrible liar. Inej was better at figuring out what he was up to than he was her, that was true, but usually he had some idea. This time he'd heard nothing, until today. Yennefer Baars, owner and proprietor of the Tulip Mill, the most successful pleasure house in Ketterdam since the Menagerie close, was dead. Kaz had to smile.

Even if he was next on Inej's list. What the hell had he done this time?

It was raining, but what else was new? Kaz opened the window and listened to the droplets flowing over the pane and hitting the sill like a waterfall. He couldn't hear Inej, but he wouldn't be able to. Definitely not over the wind and rain. He left the window open for her, and headed to the basin. He shed his gloves and began to wash the blood off before it dried. Running hot water. Years ago he'd added this, with the bathroom of their suite at the Geldrenner on this mind. It was such a luxury, back then. So normal now.

"Inej,"

He smiled to himself as he imagined the brief look of annoyance on her face at him greeting her just as she opened her mouth to do the same.

"Kaz,"

He turned to see her, and immediately Annika's message was unimportant. It was good to see her. She smiled.

"How are things, Kaz? I heard the Silver Six has been quiet,"

Of course she had.

"A little slower than usual, but the Crow Club's booming. I've got time to fix it before the profit's take a hit,"

Inej nodded. A moment passed in silence, before she said:

"Maya Olsen,"

"What of her?"

"You know her then?"

Kaz shrugged.

"One of Yen's girls, isn't she? The Tidemaker. Never met her, but she passes information to the Dregs. I have a few people watching her, making sure the information's good and trying to find out where she gets it. Why?"

"I met her tonight,"

"You mean when you killed Yennefer Baars?"

They looked at each other, dark eyes stone. And then both their hard expressions collapsed, and they smiled.

"It's good to be home, Kaz,"

He liked it when she said 'home'. Really, he knew, 'home' was Ravka. But the Suli travelled the country, never static, never anywhere long enough for that one solitary place to be the only singular point they'd always want to return to. That was too limiting for Inej; she existed to explore. To her, 'home' really meant 'family'. It had taken the last ten years to get here, but he'd come to like that word.

"But we do need to talk,"

Kaz sighed.

"Of course we do,"

Kaz cooked. Nothing special, just warm bread and soup, but Inej seemed to like it. They sat opposite each other at their little wooden table, eating and waiting for the other one to talk first. Kaz was stubborn, but Inej was infuriatingly patient when it came down to this sort of thing. Eventually, he broke the silence.

"Maya Olsen, then?"

"She's at the shelter - "

"I didn't ask where she was, I want to know - "

"Let me finish, Kaz,"

"You know I've killed people for less than interrupting me," he smirked

"And I've killed people for far more. Now be quiet, and listen to your wife,"

Kaz frowned and mumbled something about only agreeing to marriage for the tax break, but stopped interrupting her all the same.

"Maya's sixteen, I met her tonight at the Tulip Mill and took her to the shelter along with a couple of others, but they were the only ones I managed to get out," she paused and glanced away, just for a second, before picking up the thread of her story, "the other girls were both passed out - long story, I'll tell you later - I'm going to check on them in a couple of hours. But Maya was awake, so we talked and... Kaz there's no easy way to say this, but she wants to kill you,"

Kaz almost laughed. So this was why Inej had come to him, instead of waiting for him near the shelter. The had a second place there, unbeknownst to the gangs or anyone else, except the liberated kids - in case they needed Inej.

"Invite her to join the queue,"

"This is different, Kaz. This isn't some random act of aggression or some boy from a rival gang who wants to prove himself. She hasn't just picked you because you're Dirtyhands, she's picked you because you're... you,"

Kaz collected their empty bowls and began to head towards the sink, before Inej tutted and took them out of his hands, swapping them for his cane. He leant against it, and pretended the relief wasn't palpable. Somehow it was still a bad thing to rely on her.

"How does this kid even know about me? The information she was sharing wasn't specific to the gang, she didn't know who she was talking to. Just that he paid her to talk, and to not talk to anyone else. Did Yen find out about the extra income?"

"I don't think so, but Maya didn't say much about it,"

"So what information, in your extreme wisdom regarding matters of life and death, did you manage to gain?"

Inej looked at him and raised an eyebrow.

"Information isn't my specialty anymore, Kaz,"

"Yes it is,"

She laughed, and Kaz closed his eyes to listen to the sound, but it was only short.

"She blames you for her indenture,"

Shit. No wonder Inej was mad at him.

"What do I have to do with that?"

"Apparently there was no choice but to sell her indenture to a mercher, when her father was in debt. The mercher died and her contract changed hands, several times, before it ended up with Yen,"

The tap hummed as Inej washed the plates. Kaz shifted his weight against his cane.

"She blames the man her father was in debt to," she glanced at him over her shoulder, "No prizes for guessing who,"

This wasn't sounding too good.

"And just for that she wants to kill me? So do a thousand other unlucky sods, Inej, I'm not concerned,"

"You also killed her father,"

Damn it.

"So, she wants to kill me. That doesn't mean she gets to. Doesn't really mean she even tries. I've killed a lot of people's family members, but I'm still standing here. Did you...?"

"Tell her we're married? Yes, Kaz, I'm that much of an idiot,"

"Alright, alright. Still, you might as well. Talk her down, take her back home and find some relative or whatever to take her. That's what you do, right?"

Inej rolled her eyes. She was now perching on top of the half wall between the little kitchen and dining spaces.

"She can't go back. She's a Fjerdan grisha, she wouldn't be safe. And as for relatives - anyone she's got would either kick her out or not dare the risk of taking her. But that's not the problem, Kaz,"

"Right, and remind me why we're more worried about this murderous little problem than any of the others?"

"Because she's different to the others, Kaz. She... well, she reminded me of you,"

"Oh," said Kaz, freezing for a second before slowly returning his watch to his pocket, even though he hadn't checked the time yet, "Then I guess we have a problem,"

Problem was an understatement, and both of them knew it. There was every chance that he was completely and utterly fucked.

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dksw0rld · 1 year

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Things I’ve Learned As A Young Woman

I’m in my (almost) mid 20s, I turn 25 in a few weeks. Since my birthday is coming up I’ve been reflecting on things I’ve learned as I always do in the weeks leading up. I want this blog to be a safe space for women to learn and grow in community so I wanted to share some of the lessons and pass them on to others.

Health

1. Consult with your doctor(s) before starting any sort of diet, no matter how good you may think it will be for you

At the end of the day, the internet is not a doctors office. You don’t know how a diet could personally affect you, as a woman and / or as a human. You don’t know if trying a certain diet will deprive you of a vitamin you’re already deficient in. You don’t know if that diet is good for your reproductive health in the long run.

2. Tying into point 1, always get your yearly check ups (blood panel, obgyn checkups, yearly physical, dental cleanings, etc.)

A lot can change in a year. You don’t know what could have developed, what you could have become deficient in, what you need less of, etc. if you don’t get your yearly checkups done. Staying informed and up to date is one of the best ways to combat anything that could come up, benign or not. Keeping up with your health is the highest form of self care!!

3. Speak to your doctor(s) extensively AND do your own medically backed research before choosing to go on birth control (and seriously consider other options first)

I know this can be a bit of a taboo topic but quite frankly I don’t care. Doctors nowadays are VERY quick to push birth control onto women without educating them on all the side effect, ways it can affect our bodies with long term use AND what can happen when you get off of the pill. I understand a lot of you want to partake in sex without having to worry (more on that in another point...) or you want to take it for other reasons not pertaining to sex but the healthiest way is to naturally keep track of your cycle and ovulation schedule. No one told me the issues I would have taking birth control for years and then getting off. I didn’t even start taking it to have safe sex, I started taking it when I as 16 because of the bad period symptoms I was having and to help control my acne. When I finally got off of it, my hormones were a wreck and I was diagnosed with PMDD thanks to the birth control wrecking my hormones. It took me literal months of research and trial and error to naturally re-balance my hormones. 9.5 times out of 10 taking birth control is just not worth it. Before you decide, please make sure you weigh all of the pros and cons and look into other options.

4. Please be careful what you are putting in AND on your body

We are in a day and age where there are chemicals in and on everything. As women, a lot of these things mess with our hormones, our reproductive health and overall health. You have to do the work of reading labels on food products, researching if anything in your household products are harmful, purchasing all natural products when possible (makeup, cleaning products, candles, air sprays, etc.), and making as many things at home as you can (air sprays, cleaning solution, food, etc.). The companies making these harmful products are not going to tell us the risks. They’re just not. The detergent company you’re using to wash your intimates is not going to tell you how the chemicals they’re putting in their detergent is going to make your hormones unbalanced when you wear the underwear you washed with it. It is up to you as a woman to watch out for anything that can be harmful to your health. I wish it wasn’t that way but it is.

Mental Health

1. Stress and Anxiety are real and can really affect your body negatively

The affects of anxiety and stress are real. They can wreck havoc on the body. Find activities that help channel it. Journal. Speak to a therapist. Let go of what you cannot control. Research if what you’re consuming is helping contribute to the issue.

2. Therapy does not make you weak

There is literally no shame in speaking to a therapist and anyone who thinks so needs to grow up. It’s actually extremely responsible and mature to make the decision to speak to someone to become a better you. You don’t even need to have gone through a traumatic experience to speak to someone. Therapy guides you in digging deep about every “why”. Why you respond the way you do, why you think the way you do, why you love that thing so much, what made you who you are today. Everyone can benefit from therapy in some way.

3. Your diet plays a part in your mental health

The mind-gut connection is real. What you put into your body has an affect on your mental health, especially as a woman. Yet another reason why it’s so crucial to know what you are putting into and on your body. Take it from someone who spent months and months naturally balancing her hormones. It matters.

Relationships

1. Stop sleeping with just anyone. That’s not being “liberated”.

I’m going to tell you right now. Stop. Your flower is extremely sacred. Letting anyone and everyone have access to it is not being a liberated woman. It’s actually trapping you into the mindset that being treated with the bare minimum (aka how you should always be treated by a man or woman) equals sex. If a man takes you out and doesn’t ask to split the bill you’re about ready to give it all to him on the first date because “he’s rare”. No. Number one, men like that are not rare, you’re just looking in the wrong places and / or entertaining low value men. Number two, men automatically see that as “oh so all I have to do is treat her with the bare minimum, she’ll eat it up and I can smash her”. Sorry, but it’s true. That type of treatment I just named is the BARE minimum. How a man or woman should treat you every single time of every single day. You have no idea how that man actually is from one or two dates. He could be putting on a show hoping to get in your pants. Honestly, that’s most likely what he is doing. And if he’s not, why give one of the most important part of yourself so soon? You’re just that easy to impress? Stop! A man worth giving time to knows how to control his sexual urges and will not ask you to have sex on the first few dates. Honestly, the men worth giving time to will wait for you to feel comfortable enough to bring it up, they won’t even mention it! Or on the other hand, if you’re sleeping with just anyone because you want to be a “liberated woman” who wants to express her sexuality freely, true liberation comes from being picky about who you choose to share yourself with and feeling safe and seen enough to share it with them. How do you feel after you have sex with someone in the name of being “liberated”? Once the hormones settle I bet you feel like crap. Let’s also mention that you don’t know who else they’ve slept with. You don’t know what someone else they slept with has. You’re genuinely putting your health at risk every time you choose to share yourself with someone you barely know. Not to mention you’re risking making another human with a man you don’t even know would be a good father, if he chooses to acknowledge he’s the father at all (harsh, I know, but unfortunately very true). And if you do know them, you should feel comfortable enough to ask them about their sexual history, when the last time they got checked was AND to show you proof they are free of any STIs. If not, then you shouldn’t be sleeping with them. If they refuse or make excuses, you definitely shouldn’t be sleeping with them!

2. Stop looking for love, let it find you

I won’t lie to you, this one took me a while to learn. But I’ve mastered it now. Love is not something you find. I truly believe that. Love finds you when you are ready for it. Whether that be forever love or a love that’s meant to teach you and prepare you for the next level of life and eventually the next love. I was on dating apps on and off for years. I believe dating apps can help you gain experience and help you meet new people but in my opinion I don’t think they’re conducive to finding your forever love. There are exceptions to that just like there are to everything but I believe letting love find you when it’s meant to is the best way to do it. Now if you genuinely feel like you’re being called to use dating apps to find love than by all means do so, but do the work first and make sure it’s not just because you feel lonely, left out, impatient to find your person, or are afraid to be alone. I had to be honest with myself and say that I was on dating apps because I was being impatient. And after digging deeper into that I realized it was one of the reasons I was still single. I wasn’t letting love unfold when it was supposed to, I was looking for it and forcing it. You can’t force love no matter how hard you try. Since being honest with myself, I found that I would much rather find my love interests organically. Not having to force it by swiping right solely based on how the person looks and a shallow glance into their interests. If I meet someone with potential at a bookstore, I already know we have something in common, a love of reading. Plus, there is so much more to life than a romantic relationship. Focus on you and creating your ideal life. Date yourself. Treat yourself how you want someone to treat you one day. I know we’ve all heard those so much but there’s a reason for it, they’re true! Love will find you when it’s supposed to. What’s for you will never pass you.

These are some of the many lessons I’ve learned on my journey. I truly hope at least some of these taught you something or rang true for you. If so, send me a message I’d love to hear. Or if you have any questions on any of the topics I touched on, send me a message and I’ll expand on it!

With love,

#lessons #dk #womens health #highvalueblackwoman #wellness #health and wellness

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gorbalsvampire · 19 days

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Gehenna War

It's pretty neat, yo.

Like Blood-Stained Love, it transforms the core "personal and political" horror of Vampire into another subgenre. Unlike Blood-Stained Love, it has a lot of concrete advice for Storytellers on structuring scenes, assembling pools, building characters to interact with, and making that subgenre work at the table.

An effort has been made, here. There's a little chart in the introduction claiming that Chapters 2 and 3, and the Appendices, will be of use to any action chronicle, be it more high concept or street level, and having read the durn things I think that claim's borne out. I'm gonna talk about those sections first, and later loop back around to the specifically Gehenna War stuff.

Chapter 2 has neat archetypes for characters in various armed conflict roles - generals, spies, intelligencers, recruits, veterans - with recommendations for priority stats rather than statblocks, so these can be flipped for player or Storyteller use. Suggestions for bonus XP amounts if you want more powerful starting characters, and focused specialisations that advise you to focus particular areas of your character sheet - almost like soft classes, or playbooks. A handful of new Merits and Flaws (one of which is getting slammed onto Penny), and a mixed bag of Discipline powers. Bloodform is back? Woo! There are "reroll Rouse checks for raising this one Attribute or using this one Discipline" openers for the Physical Disciplines? Swing and a miss, more filler. There's two incredible new high-end Blood Sorcery rituals (I shall be using both of them very soon), and some funky Thin-Blood Alchemy if you want your Duskborn to join a Methuselah cult.

Then: advice on running Basic Combat, and explicit guidance on the modularity of the Advanced Combat rules, and a few new ones. This is brilliant stuff for new Storytellers, reflective of the demand for the Combat Primer, and it's given me some ideas I didn't have before, and ALSO. VINDICATION. OBSERVE.

One of the things that waters down play over time is if the characters need to build the same dice pool every time for the same task. To avoid this, Storytellers should vary the traits involved according to the situation, to keep things interesting and to curb players trying to optimize their pools.

Leaving aside that awful syntax at the start - "Play becomes predictable if the characters need to build the same dice pool every time they attempt a task" - activate your voice, and dismiss "is" clauses, you cowards! - anyway, leaving that aside, this is how I've been doing things all along and I love that a book explicitly says "do it and don't get hung up on the exact RAW every time."

Car chase mechanics, cute new gear (I like the Scourge Blades, nasty-ass duelling swords that delay vampiric healing). Then it's on to story advice!

Chapter Three does something I wish Blood-Stained Love had done for romance: getting into the structure of action stories, how action interacts with other genre qualifiers (crime, horror, survival, thriller etc.), the escalating role of villains - like, actual formalist thinking about how stories work. We then get some mechanical advice on how to shift the mode of play, how to approach things like Hunger and Frenzy to make them more or less of a factor. It's short, but it's fuckin' GOOD.

Appendix I is all about dice. When you should and shouldn't roll, as opposed to taking half. Grouping those moments into broad types by what they do to the emergent story. How to add variation with tracker rolls or unusual dice pools. How to manage failures on tests and what to offer players to keep the story moving. And, most important of all, how to deal with the Beast, going through each Skill and showing how the Beast impacts a Messy Critical (still a success, remember!) or a Bestial Failure.

You need this Appendix. The corebook needed this appendix. Maybe it took six years of best practice and sharing ideas to get these ideas fully understood. Maybe if there'd been one dev team since the start we might have had this sooner. At least we have it now.

I'll talk about the Gehenna War itself in a follow-up post. That's Chapters One, Four, Five and Six, and Appendix II.

#vtm #vampire the masquerade #v5 #gehenna war #sourcebook #review #st advice #gm advice

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chairofchaos · 18 days

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AO3 Chaos

I invite anyone who is interested to 1) Respond to these questions and 2) TELL ME WHAT YOUR AO3 IS SO I CAN FIND YOU THERE!

Thank you @c-starstuff-man0 for the tag! (I think someone else also tagged me but I could not find it- so thank you to you, as well, whoever you are!)

1. How many works do you have on AO3? I currently have 7 works up on AO3.

2. What's your total AO3 word count? 26,150. (That will easily double when I start posting Letters of Love, since LoL is already about 40,000 words. Oops!)

3. What fandoms do you write for? On AO3, currently only ACOTAR and Crescent City (so, SJM Universe stuff)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? (I linked my AO3 at the bottom if you want to go check any of these out!)

The Power of Jewelry (Azris, fluff)

When the Blood Burns (Azris, angst/MCD stuff)

Stormy Night in the Library (Azriel x Reader, fluff)

Death & All That Follows (Azris, definitely angst at this point). This is hilarious because it’s only half done and I’m not sure I like the ending I’ve written, which means it could go happy or sad and I don’t know how to feel about that.

Even In the Dark (Cassian x Reader, hurt/comfort and kind of fluffy) I won’t lie I had to revisit this one to remember what it was lol

5. Do you respond to comments? Yes, and I’m mean about it. Sorry to anyone who has been on the receiving end of a teasing chaos comment. I maybe have too much fun dangling teasers like carrots on a stick...

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Hahahha. Uh. Probably When the Blood Burns. For now, anyways.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? (Do I write happy endings?) Stormy Night in the Library takes my vote for this, though Say It’s True (Mor x Emerie) is also cute and ends happily. I love them.

8. Do you write smut? Yes. There are some smutty elements to things I have posted. I haven’t written anything specifically for smut though.

9. Do you write crossovers? Nothing that’s posted.

10. Have you ever had a fic translated? Nope.

11. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Uh… not on AO3! (But if you want to check out the Gold Star Crack Headcanons @ninthcircleofprythian and I wrote a little bit ago here they are!)

12. What is your all-time favorite ship? Please. Please don’t hate me. I’ve been on a Dramione train for years now. I know it’s controversial. I can’t get them out of my head.

13. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Would it be bad if I said “Letters of Love”? No. I want to finish it so badly. I do. I’m just scared. I’m working on it, I swear. It just feels monstrous at this point.

In actuality, I think it’s the crossover that I’m working on. It’s a Throne of Glass/ACOTAR/Crescent City monstrosity that would be roughly 400 9x11 pages long, 12 pt font single spaced with formatting. It started as a romance, morphed into a second-gen TOG x ACOTAR throuple adventure and political drama. Now I just don’t know what to do with it because the universe I’ve imagined for this is so insane and I cannot do it justice.

14. What are your writing strengths? I write with my whole heart, and I care about every word. I’ve been practicing for years.

15. What are your writing weaknesses? Mental illness. Procrastination. Writing 10k in 24 hours and then never finishing that work. I overthink everything. Next question. Please.

16. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I love it. However, I much prefer it when it’s canon that the character speaks another language. I feel awkward prescribing languages to characters unless it’s some sort of AU. I read an incredible Azris AU (linked HERE, check the tags please, written by the wonderful @annaskareninas for Azris Week) where Eris is Italian, and it worked beautifully because it was an AU! But if I was writing in universe, I would have a harder time making Eris speak Italian because for all we know they’re speaking Fae Language We Don't Have a Name For and Italian doesn’t exist in the universe. It’s a mental block for me. I don't mind reading it though!

17. First fandom you wrote for? …Harry Potter. It was 2011, okay?! However, the first I ever POSTED was Percy Jackson. Don't ask me where they ended up, it was a long time ago and those secrets were lost to the sea

18. Favorite fic you’ve written? When the Blood Burns. It hurts just right.

Tags (no pressure!): @positivelyruined @annaskareninas @ ANYONE WHO WANTS TO DO THIS! Also, let me know what your AO3 is in replies or reblogs. I need to follow more of you over there <3

My AO3 is keyboard_clacks, or chairofchaos. I post and respond to comments under both pseuds! Find Me Here!

#straightupchaos #ao3 ask game #AO3 writer #acotar fandom #crescent city fandom #acotar fanfic #crescent city fanfic

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staceymcgillicuddy · 9 months

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annual writing self-evaluation

Thanks to @astorytotellyourfriends for the tag - I didn't do this last year!

1. List of works published this year (in the order that they were posted):

If She Lived in Space, Man, I'd Build A Plane crimson & clover pulling overtime model citizen; zero discipline what you give just serves me right two jack trippers and a chrissy perception check all my kinktober fills a hollow tree

2. Work you are most proud of (and why):

Gosh, that's hard. I'm proud of all of them for different reasons, and I have issues with all of them for different reasons. I guess I would say "what you give just serves me right" makes me happy, and was something I had to push myself to do, but I was pleased with how it turned out in the end.

3. Work you are least proud of (and why):

I hate that I have two fics out that I haven't updated in ages! I am not proud of that! And there are a few things in all of them that I'd tweak.

4. A favorite excerpt of your writing:

Oh golly. Alright, from a hollow tree, which was my Halloween fic featuring Lilith!succubus!Chrissy:

Fog slips into the van when he opens the door. A mist so thick it’s disorienting as he drops to the ground, and the shape of a girl forms itself out of the gloom.

5. Share or describe a favorite comment you received:

Almost every single regular commenter on Soul makes my heart sing and my panties drop, and I'm so sorry my brain is being stupid right now.

6. A time when writing was really, really hard:

Right goddamn now. It's like squeezing blood from a fucking stone, and I have no idea why, but everything comes out strained and blechy and I hate it, and I refuse to inflict it on anyone else so I'll just sit like a lump, churning out crap and never showing it to anyone.

7. A scene or character that you wrote that surprised you:

Genuinely did not think that I would get so into the Hopper/Chrissy/Eddie dynamic as I did when I wrote it as a crackship as part of kinktober. But, like, I could get DOWN with that shit.

Also, Hellcheerington surprised me. Oh, and writing Eddie's dad for Soul was weirdly cathartic? I was determined to make him a person and not a collection of cliches, which was easier said than done. I think I got there, in the end. Hope so, anyway!

8. How did you grow as a writer this year:

I didn't, I fucking regressed. Or, no, not really. I pushed myself a bit, tried to get sharper and cleaner with some prose. Read some theory books, worked on my rhetorical devices, forced myself to kill a couple darlings along the way (but not all the darlings, god damn it).

I also published a book, so yay?

9. How do you hope to grow next year:

I'd like to get back to writing original fiction. I've been in a slump with that, too, because it doesn't have the instantaneous feedback that fanfic does. I want to split my time between fic and pro writing stuff, and I want to be very realistic about how much mental energy my real job takes up. When I used to write like a madwoman, I didn't have the role I currently do, which is a senior project manager leading a team, working mostly with executive-level staff. Don't get me wrong, my job pisses me off a lot, and stresses me out, too, but it pays well and we live in a shithole of a society where money matters in the grand scheme of things.

So, like, I guess I hope to grow as a writer in writing even when my brain doesn't want me to, or it doesn't feel great to do so.

10. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc):

Freaking Shirley Jackson, man. That bitch can write.

11. Anything in your real life show up in your writing this year:

I'm always putting kinky shit I see or experience at the bdsm club into my fic. I am as God made me.

12. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

Everything is made up and the points don't matter. Stop comparing yourself to other authors. Turn off stats on your AO3. Write what you fucking want and quit worrying if other people are going to like it.

13. Any new projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year:

I'm going to be so, so glad when Soul is done because I love it so much but it is also the millstone around my neck.

14. Tag three writers/artists whose answers you’d like to read:

@binickandros, @pipergirl17 and @phoenixwrites please!

#ask meme #writing #personal #bsc diaries #i rambled a lot up there #thank u for reading if u got this far #gentle forehead kisses for you

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booksteaandtoomuchtv · 1 year

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Witchy Woman (4/10)

0.5 | 1 | 2 | 3 | AO3 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

art by @cocohook38

Summary: When Emma came into her position as Storybrooke Coven Leader, she ended things with the powerful Vampire Overlord, Killian Jones. She’s spent over a decade working alongside him and ignoring the growing tension between them.

During his best mate’s wedding, Killian decides he is done waiting. He is ready to have his mate back in his arms (and bed) again. Emma is not an easy woman to woo, but Killian has never backed down from a challenge.

When Emma’s jilted ex-boyfriend returns to town and Emma goes missing, Killian will stop at nothing to get her back and ensure that nothing can ever separate them again.

Rating: E

CW: Mention of domestic abuse, blood and blood drinking (vampires), threatening situations, minor violence, death, mention of parental death

Entry for Captain Swan Supernatural Summer 2023 (@cssns)

Tagging: @anmylica, @elfiola, @goforlaunchcee, @jrob64, @kmomof4 , @stahlop, @teamhook, @tiganasummertree, @undercaffinatednightmare, @xarandomdreamx, @zaharadessert

Author Note: Thank you so much to @ultraluckycatnd for her time and hard work beta-ing this mess. Thank you to @kmomof4 for all the sanity-checking and support. Without you lovely ladies, I would have talked myself out of writing this a long time ago. This is the last super short chapter. Hopefully, changing to weekly updates will make up for the brevity of this chapter and the last one.

The click of heels on marble echoed through the office building heralding the arrival of Emma’s least favourite witch. Before Emma came into her full powers, Regina acted as Storybrooke’s Coven Leader. It was not a smooth transition when it became clear that Emma was the more powerful witch and was the rightful Coven Leader. Emma allowed Regina to stay on the Coven Counsel in an attempt to smooth things over between them. Regina used the position to question and undermine Emma at every turn.

In the historic marble and mahogany office of the Coven Leader, Emma groaned and dropped her head onto the solid desk. Papers fluttered their protest but the click, click of heels continued their determined approach. Emma banged her head softly against the wood a few times in a half-hearted attempt to escape the inevitable meeting via brain damage.

“Asleep on the job, Ms. Swan?” Regina asked as she entered. Without knocking. A reminder to Emma that she still thought of this as her office despite Emma’s twelve-year tenure.

Emma rolled her eyes and lifted her head from the desk. “What is it, Regina?”

The other witch was dressed in a dark pantsuit as severe as the look on her face. Emma smiled pleasantly back at Regina, which served only to darken the expression. Regina tried to keep up a regal façade, and it brought Emma a very particular kind of absolute, albeit petty, joy to ruffle the royal feathers. She knew that she shouldn’t “antagonise Regina so blatantly”, or so Mary Margaret lectured on more than one occasion, but it was a difficult habit to break - even more so because she found it a bit rewarding.

Regina cleared her throat to ensure she had Emma’s attention. “I noticed that you didn’t have the solstice gathering on the upcoming counsel meeting itinerary. It is two weeks away; do you have anything planned?”

Emma did not bother to hide her eye roll. “A semi-annual gathering of the Storybrooke supernatural community is hardly an emergency.” Anna was already months into planning the weekend-long celebration; invitations were mailed a month ago. Regina’s might have been sitting in Emma's desk drawer waylaid, but it was sure to arrive sometime soon.

“It is vital to the strength of the supernatural community that we…”

“I am aware and it is being handled,” Emma said, cutting off Regina’s diatribe before it could gain momentum. She had been in this position for over a decade and she never failed to deliver a solstice event. This level of micromanaging was ridiculous, even from Regina. “Now, unless you have something more pressing, I need to get back to it.”

“Will you be leading the restoration ceremony?”

“Yes, it is one of my responsibilities.”

The main event of the solstice gatherings was an ancient ceremony that refreshed the ley lines and strengthened the magic accessed by every race of the supernatural community. Part of Emma’s magical signature was a conduit, meaning she could amplify and harness the magic in every living creature and plant and direct it as she willed. It was this power that was required for one to be a Coven Leader. It was their responsibility to ensure that magic continued flowing throughout the lands. Without it, many members of the supernatural community would cease to exist.

“Certainly, Ms. Swan,” Regina smiled. “I know they can be draining and I wanted to offer my services, should you require them.”

Emma narrowed her eyes at the implication lurking between Regina's words. “I think you should leave, Ms. Mills.”

Huffing out a breath, Regina turned to leave, heels clicking angrily down the hall. Emma’s head throbbed in tempo with the retreating footsteps.

Well, that was surprisingly easy.

A nagging feeling told her that there was more to that impromptu visit but she really did have more important matters to attend to than Regina’s endless nonsense.

Emma turned back to the report she’d been studying before the interruption; the werewolves had stumbled upon traces of corrupted magic deep in the woods. There were images of sigils carved into trees charred and blackened with sickness, likely caused by the twisted magic. The land around the trees was also blackened by some substance that she couldn’t quite determine from the grainy photos laid out on the desk before her.

Rubbing her temples to relieve the headache that had formed at the first click of heels, she decided she could use a walk through the woods. Fresh air and all that. Picking up her mobile from the desk, she typed out a text and headed for the spot Graham indicated in his report.

§§§§ §§§§ §§§§ §§§§

“This is foul,” Killian grimaced as he freed his boots from the tar-like substance that coated the clearing. “When I suggested a date for today, I imagined wine and conversation.”

“What is it?” Emma asked, crouching to inspect it closer. She was stopped by Killian, his warm fingers wrapping around her arm and tugging her back up. She ignored the fluttering in her stomach at the contact and fixed him with an annoyed glare. Ignoring her, he led her to a patch of grass outside with a good view of the decaying clearing but out of the reach of the muck.

“It is a combination of stale blood and dark magic. Some sort of wicked spell did not go as planned and left this substance behind. It absorbs any magic from the area around it. You won’t be able to pick up any traces or magical signatures, even with your impressive abilities.”

Emma stared at him with a mixture of admiration and shock.

“I’ve seen this before,” Killian replied to her unasked question. “A century or two ago, so I am a bit fuzzy on the particulars.”

“Naturally,” Emma quipped. “Being such an ancient and powerful vampire has its challenges.”

“I am merely experienced, love,” Killian waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“Who is doing forbidden magic in Storybrooke?”

“Did the werewolves pick up anything?” Killian’s voice softened before he continued. "There is too much blood for me to discern much else.”

Emma offered him a small, reassuring smile. Killian was often wary of sharing the aspects he saw as monstrous about being a vampire; he never talked about his thirst, of drinking from a host versus the bottle, or the way blood and heartbeats whispered to him constantly. Emma knew more about the nature of vampires through the books in the coven library than she did after decades of friendship with Killian.

“Graham said the scent was too sickening for the wolves. His pictures were grainy like he’d taken them as far away as possible and just zoomed in.”

“Hmm. That isn’t very helpful,” Killian muttered. Emma didn’t feel the need to respond; Killian’s distaste for the werewolf alpha wasn’t something she wanted to get into at the moment.

“I didn’t see any tracks, other than the pack’s, as we approached,” Emma frowned.

“Aye. Whoever did this, they were thorough,” Killian agreed. “I am going to have a few vamps keep watch over the area, but I doubt they’ll catch anything.”

“Thank you. I agree, but it would be foolish not to have a lookout.”

They fell into their comfortable work routine after that. Emma would throw out potential threats and possible dangers for them to address in relation to the newest threat and Killian would offer various solutions, most of which Emma enhanced with small tweaks and changes. There was something exhilarating in the way they worked together. Like two halves of a whole. Emma buried the thought.

After they’d established a plan and determined there really was nothing more to be gained from studying the clearing, they walked back through vibrant green foliage. As they walked, a soundtrack of life surrounded them - the buzzing of insects, bright bird calls, the noisy scurrying of squirrels. The sounds were comforting after the afternoon they’d spent in the eerily quiet of the clearing.

“Let me make you dinner,” Killian offered as they reached their parked cars.

“That sounds nice. I’ll be over in an hour.”

“Why not now?”

Raising her eyebrows, Emma gestured at the general state she was in after traipsing in the remains of the failed dark magic spell and the surrounding wood all day. “I’m gross, Killian.”

“I have a shower.” His voice dropped a register, “I seem to recall that you were very fond of said shower.”

Despite the flush that spread over her body at the reminder, she shook her head. “Need fresh clothes.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “I have clothes, love,” it teased, but he didn’t press her further. Instead, he placed a chaste goodbye kiss on her cheek. “My torment will only find its end once you’re back in my company. Please, hurry, love.”

Emma rolled her eyes, even as she smiled. When he smiled back, it was that brilliant smile that made her heart beat in a most ridiculous way.

#Witchy Woman #cssns23 #Witch!Emma #Vampire!Killian #killian jones #emma swan #captain swan #once upon a time #killian x emma #cs fanfic #cs ff #ouat #words by Jas #fic by Jas #antagonist Regina #art by cocohook38 #cocohook38

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tallymali · 1 year

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Don’t know if anon or messages is the better place to ask this. I have friend that’s had uti for 2 months and you came to mind. Would you mind telling your Dr/clinic and the new and previous meds you’re taking? Did both meds work & the new is just cheaper or does new work better also? Thank You Tally!

Oh my god, I'm so glad you've sent me this because I wish more than anything that I'd known about this illness so early on in experiencing it. I have soooo much to say about this so you're absolutely welcome to DM me and relay any questions your friend has.

Okay first off I definitely recommend your friend joins the facebook support group: www.facebook.com/groups/ChronicUTISupportGroup/

Even if they dont use facebook, they should totally just make an account to join. I didn't use it either so I just made a blank profile with a fake name. As long as you answer the questions they send, the mods should let you in with no problem. I said something like "apologies for the blank account, I don't use social media but I was told this is the best place for support" and I was accepted super fast.

So, the clinic I go to is the Harley Street chronic UTI clinic. They don't have their own website but all their info is here: www.chronicutiinfo.com/treatment/conventional-medicine/uk-treatment/prof-malone-lee/

(That website is also an incredible source of info on chronic UTIs)

You have to go there in person for the initial appointment, which costs £250. First thing they do is take your pee and analyse it under a microscope to get a count for white blood cells and epithelial cells. Then you go to the doctor's office (there's a team of doctors that all follow the same protocol) and they discuss your symptoms, any previous medications you've tried, and any other health issues you have. They will almost always prescribe Hiprex and a long term high dose antibiotic. Hiprex is a urinary antiseptic, and it essentially reacts with the acid in your urine to create formaldehyde. Most of us take high dose vitamin C pills with the Hiprex to keep our urine as acidic as possible (high bacteria in the bladder can raise urine pH so we often need help in that department).

At this point they will give you the prescriptions and say you can take them to your NHS GP and see if they're willing to fill them on the NHS. My GP didn't want to get involved with prescribing long term antibiotics, but was happy to fill the Hiprex prescription. I now get my antibiotics from Pharmacierge. Their prices are cheaper than regular pharmacies and they work closely with the Harley Street team. My doctor now just sends my prescriptions straight over to them which cuts out a little admin for me.

After that initial appointment you have to have a follow up appointment every 3 months, which can be done in person or over teams. Either way, they cost £200. If you go in person they will do the pee analysis again, but it's not super necessary to do that to monitor your progress. Patient symptoms are the number one thing they use to decide your treatment. Basically as long as you're in pain, they will keep treating you (the NHS would NEVER). Not a huge amount happens at these check ups, but being on long term antibiotics is risky so they will ask you a million questions about any possible side effects, and switch your meds immediately if you're not tolerating them well. They also ask that you contact your GP and request a blood test 3 times a year to monitor your kidney and liver function. They might also ask for other tests depending on your symptoms and the specific antibiotics you're prescribed.

So yeah, the treatment kind of just boils down to: find the right meds. Take them until you feel completely normal again.

As for the specific meds, here's a list of their most prescribed antibiotics:

Cefalexin

Amoxicillin

Co-amoxiclav

Nitrofurantoin

Trimethoprim

Doxycycline

Oxytetracycline

Azithromycin

Clarithromycin

Pivmecillinam

Lymecycline

For me, before starting treatment under Harley Street, I'd been treated by the Urology Partnership. They prescribed me 3 months of full dose Nitrofurantoin (brand name Macrobid, super common UTI treatment) and I was almost symptomless during that 3 months, but when I finished the course the symptoms returned instantly at full throttle. From that point they would only prescribe me the half dose of Nitrofurantoin which was NOT cutting it. That was when I decided to move to Harley Street. Definitely would not recommend Urology Partnership to people dealing with a chronic UTI.

SO. I emailed the Harley Street clinic with an appointment request and they booked me in for the next week. At my appointment the doctor prescibed Trimethoprim, which is usually the first one they try with new patients. I took it for a little while, (around 2 weeks to a month, I don't remember exactly) but I was still getting symptoms that weren't letting up, so I emailed their clinical enquiries address to let them know. I'd mentioned at my inital appointment that Nitrofurantoin had worked in the past, so they took me off the Trimethoprim and prescribed the Nitro instead, with the note that I'd have to discuss it at my next appointment.

Basically, Nitro is a really good antibiotic but has some of the nastiest side effects and is also the most expensive. So at my follow up appointment my doctor said he was happy for me to stay on it to get my symptoms back under control but he'd like to switch to a less risky antibiotic in time.

So a few months later (June this year) I was switched to Cefalexin, which has some of the least side effects and is one of the cheapest. I've been doing really well on it and I'm really feeling optimistic.

This is all to say that treatment is easy in theory but requires a little trial and error to find the right meds, and then takes a metric fucktonne of patience. There's no set length of time for the treatment, but in general, the longer you've had the cUTI the longer it takes to cure. So if your friend does have cUTI and can get treatment quickly, it shouldn't take too long to cure.

I had mine for two years before starting with Harley Street, which is actually much shorter than the average patient. They frequently treat older patients who have been suffering for over 20 years. I've read a depressing number of posts in the facebook group from people in their 50s+ who have been able to live normally for the first time in their adult life thanks to this treatment.

Knowledge of this condition with the general public AND with doctors (even urologists?????) is basically nonexistent. The NHS and most healthcare systems will slap you with a wastebasket diagnosis (PBS/BPS/IC) and tell you to piss off and live in pain forever. I genuinely don't think I will ever be able to trust a doctor right off the bat to actually prioritise my health ever again in my life. The NHS is full of people who really do care and really do everything they can for their patients but as an institution it does not give one iota of a fuck about the wellbeing of the people it's supposed to care about. It's a big complicated systemic issue but there will never be a good excuse for turning away patients who need medical care to live normally.

If your friend or literally anyone reading this is interested in the more academic/scientific side of this whole thing, I'd definitely read Cystitis Unmasked by Professor Malone Lee. It's written for doctors so it's not an easy read for a layperson but GOD it's so eye opening and infuriating. Professor Malone Lee is the guy who created the Harley Street UTI clinic and I think he spent his entire life raging at all the pillars of incompetance that modern UTI testing and treatment is built upon.

#sorry for rambling #i am on a one woman rampage to spread awareness about this bastard condition and the incompetence of the healthcare system #if anything i say could even possibly save another person from years of this hell and all the medical gaslighting #then i will talk until i DIE #asky ask

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hirik0 · 1 year

Text

Forced Proximity

Day 7

CW: mentioning sexual harassment

Ghost is waiting to get his injured arms x-rayed again. Looking how good they healed by now. Usally he would be annoyed by this, but he's in a good mood after his call with Soap yesterday. God he's down bad, Simon brought a bunch of emotions with him from his grave in Ghost mind. Even the nurses pick up on it, he needs to fix this. He is a private person and being part if the infirmary gossip makes his skin crawl. At least they think its a someone of the nursing staff, besides the head nurse. She is on to them, something about 25 years of experience and watching pinning soilders. Atleast she's supportive, saying that it was about to happen in a task force like the 141. And she's right he and Soap work together since the start of 141 and had countless missions together. Besides Roach Soap is the only person he touches outside of whats absolute necessary.

Soap sits in his office just coming back from a walk with Riley when Shepard walks in. Oh shit. "Captain MacTavish", he greats with a smile on his face. Oh he's fucked. "General how nice to have you here", Soap lies through his teeth, not even trying to smile knowing he cant pull it of. "I have a special mission for the 141", Shepard starts and Soap is braceing himself mentally. "As I told you everyone is eighter already out or on medical leave", Soap repeats his statement from 2 days ago. "Isn't Sergeant Sanderson and his team back by now?", Shepard asks and Soap gets a really bad feeling. "They are stucked in a monsume, when I checked din with him your save house was turning the lower level in a pool", Soap explains. "Who will back first?", Shepard demands to know. "Price and Beta Team is coming back to night." "Thats to late.", the General complaints trying to starr Soap down, force him to agree. "I'm sorry General, but we can't take this mission. We honstely don't have space for any additional missions. We are really busy." "How convinced Captain", Shepard already losing his patience. If looks could kill Soap would lie on the floor by now. "Is not my fault we found a intel gold mine and have to hunt down the leads", Soap conters the accusation of the General. "What do we even work with you together if you cant even take one singel mission", Shepard smears and Soap has to put a lot of effort keep his cool. Soap stays silent everything he wants to say will keep him longer on Shepards shit list. "The pentagon should probably cut the american buged for the 141", Shepard continues his angry rant. Shepards monologe goes on for 20 minutes and he ends it with: "Well maybe I should put my own men in the taskforce so that the job finally gets done right." "Well General if you're not happy with how the 141 is working you can make your own special taskforce, we had no complaints about our work yet", is the most diplomatic think Soap can muster to say, basically telling the General that he is the problem. Shepard is fuming at this before angry storming out of the office. Yeah, place 1 of the shit list is still his. He is so fucking angry about how Shepard smeared the work of the 141. This is now personal for him.

Soap is in the worst mode for having any disciplinary talks, but it has to be done. He just hopes this don't get on his nerves to much. He didn't hade any time to blow of some steam, so his ability to take anymore bullshit is absolute zero. Riley is leaving him alone sensing his bad moot, laying a bit further away carefully watching him. She has seen some of Ghost angry out bursts and the aftermath of them. How draind Ghost is after them, sometimes about to cry when he realises how much like his father he is. Sergeant Meyers is walking in Soaps office and Soap is tensing. "Captain MacTavish", the Sergeant greats him saluting. Soap hates how relaxed Meyers is about the situation. Probably got away with it before. Soaps blood is boiling already. He will get all up in Meyers face, the second Meyers steps over the line. "I have a complain about your behaviour Sergeant", Soap simply states, Meyers still being way to relaxed. "From whom?" "Anonymous." "So it's all made up then if they don't even want to but their name on it." Soap is disgusted by the smugness in the Sergeants voice. "Oh so you didn't encourage or atleast dont stop 5 Privats to sexual harassing a fellow female soilder?", Soap asks giving Meyers one last chance to admit. "Never seen or heard a thing, Sir." " So you never over heard and I quote: " 'With this fat tits you should change carriers, I would be your first costumer'?" Meyers confidence is waving when he hears the disgust in Soaps voice. "No, Sir." "What about 'Can I cover you big titts with my cum? I bet it would make them look even better'?" "No, Sir." "So you didn't tell Private Hotchner last week that 'she would help bossting morals by not covering up her big fat titts'?" "I..", Meyers stammers knowing he's in deap shit. "Answer the question Sergeant. Yes or No. Did you or did you not?", Soap voice cold with rage his eyes burning holes in the Sergeants head. "Yes, Sir", the Sergeant stammers out. "So am I right to assume that the female Privates don't feel comfortable to report this kind of harassment to you?" "Yes, Sir", the face of the Sergeant an unhealthy pale. "Why do you think thats the case?" "Because I.. because I participate in the same behaviour, Sir." "You still think the report is fake, Sergeant?", Soap asks his finale question. "I.. no Sir." "Thats what I thought", Soap spit out his voice cold and emotionless. Meyers squirms under his gaze, nervously waiting for whatvever punishment the Captain sees fit. "What's my punishment, Sir?", the Sergeant asks when Soap continues to burn holes in his head. "I will talk about it with Captain Price and Ghost", Soap answers a cold smile on his face. "Ghost?", Meyers stammers about to faint now. "That's a problem?" "No Sir." "Oh and Sergeant you will punish and observe the punishment of the 5 Privates. They will clean the showers with a toothbrush, for the next 2 months " "Yes Sir, of course Sir." "I will know if you let them get away with this or make their punishment easier." Meyers only nots at this not able to verbaly confirm he understood. "Dismissed." Meyers nearly runs out his Office.

Riley carefully puts one of her paws on Soaps leg. Getting aggressive head scratches from Soap, who takes a deep breath he needs to punch someone or fuck, he don't care at this point. He lets out a sign before giving Riley his full attention for now. Scratching Rileys favourite spot behind her left ear. Riley is resting her head on Soaps leg looking content. "Spoiling my dog with affection, Captain?", a voice sudenly asks, making Soap flinch. "Fuck Ghost, stop living up to your call sign", Soap complains looking up again. "Not my problem when you don't pay attention to your surroundings", Ghost says shrugging, a amused glint in his eyes. "You're allowed out of medical?", Soap changes the topic. "All healing well, 3 more weeks then the cast gets of", Ghost states and Soap senses that something is up. "You want a medical leave form?", Soap asks. "No, I can recover on base, shorter ways. You know." Soap needs to a moment so he don't say anything he shouldn't say no the admin building. "Of course, so you here to take Riley with you?", Soap asks. "No." Soap frowns at this, what does Ghost want then. "Over heared your littel talk with Meyers. Poor guy nearly fainted when he saw me", Ghost says casually aproaching Soap. Soap trys to watch Ghost and the door at the same time, if Shepard honestly anyone walks in they are fucked. Ghost leans down before wispers I his ear: "You're frustrated, Captain?" Ghost voice is so low and deep right now giving Soap goosebumps. "Yes", Soap admits before waiting for Ghost respons. "Want to get some stress relief?" Soap breath hitches at this, hes breathing now audioable. "No, yes I.. fuck Simon not here", Soap shutters out, looking at the door warry that every can see them. "Know a spot", Ghost wispers such nice dirty promises in his ear. Soaps brain sady reminds him about an important detail. "We can't Shepard is on base", Soap says knowing he's ruining the mood with this. He wants to hear more about Ghost plan. Ghost makes a frustrated noice before pulling back, looking more affected by this then Soap.

Ghost pupils are blown, the usual cold blue's producing a lot of heat right now. He just wants a good fuck is that to much to ask? "What did he want?", Ghost asks crossing his arms in front of his chest. "Tryed to give us a mission." "We have enough mission and not enough people already", Ghost reminds both of them of their big workload of the last two months. "Wanted to send Roach and the two FNGs out, but that's not the worst yet. Sounds like he wants to partly take 141 over", Soap explains why he got out of the conversation this morning. "He will have to rip the taskforce out of Price dead hands, old man probably will come back from the dead to prevent this", Ghost jokes to lighten the mood a bit, knowing Soap knows that he takes this serious. "I think he would like to replace me." Ghost eyes turn dark at this filled with cold rage. "Think that's what all this is about. He knows he can't get Price out, so he targets me. Think about it, the shady interrogation on our home base with his own men. The 'important' mission for Roach that cant wait till Price and Beta team are back." "Thinks that would cause a public up roar, if ever found out. Maybe bad enough to get kicked out", Ghost concludes the atmosphere of the room took a 180 by now. "Fucking cunt", Ghost courses, making Soap laugh unamused. "When does Price come back?", Ghost asks the sooner Price is back the better. "22:00"

Ghost still sits in Soaps office, giving Riley all the attention that she wants. Being deep in thought, first his mind was occupied with their littel problem with Shepard. How he could kill him, slow and painful, so many good options for this too. The sad reality is that it has to look like a accident, maybe they could lead a false trace, but a quick accident something totally ordinary would be the safest choice. People died all the time falling down stairs or getting run over by a car. But after reading the complaints he is thinking about a good punishment for Meyers. "Soap?", Ghost asks in the comfortable silence. "Aye?", Soap answers not looking up from his papers. "How about the person that filed the complaint is chossing the punishment?", Ghost suggests making Soap look up. "If Price agrees, I don't see why not", Soap says with a smile. Soap is streaching his arms before standing up, getting Riley to walk to the door exited. "You're coming?", Soap ask leash in the hand. Ghost stands up needing to stretch himself after who knows long he sat on the chair.

They walk next to each other towards the forest, making sure they don't walk to close to each other. Riley pulling the leash the whole time very excited over her owner being back to walk her, more or less. Ghost looks over his shoulder the buildings of the base only small dots in the distance. He starts feeling nervous, its ridiculous being this nervous over what is is about to do. He carefully reaches out for Soaps hand, brushing there fingers against eachother. It could be seen as a radom touch, but Soap hooks his ring and littel finger with Ghosts. Both men smiling softly, it doesn't really fit them with what they do for work. They kill for a living but here they are holding hands walking Riley together it's disgustingly domestic. The cold persona of the Ghost is being pushed aside by Simon. It is strange after such a long time to be just Simon again. Its a bit overwhelming to feel so much emotionally, but the warmth of the intertwined fingers ground him. Riley stops at a tree sniffing it very intresteted. They turn to each other Ghost smile getting bigger when he sees the light pink blush on Soaps cheeks. Soap looks so soft at him before stepping closer. He puts both his hands at the seam of Ghost balacalava waiting, silently asking Ghost for permission. Soap carefully pulls the fabric up, stoping the the bridge of his nose. Soap licks over his lips needing some time flashing a shy smile at Ghost. Ghost huffs amused about the absurdity of them publicly wispering filthy promises to each other but getting all shy about holding hands and kissing. Soap opens his mouth to ask what's so funny, but Ghost is leaning in and the question is wipped out of Soaps brain. Soap closes the gap, pressing his lips against Ghost. It's shy kiss, but feels perfect for the peaceful moment. Soap presses his nose against Ghosts feeling like when he had his first kiss with Susie Prentes in 8th grade. The warm and giddy feeling of kissing someone you care about for the first time. He can't stop the big smile apearing on his face, humming pleased when he sees the mirroring smile on Simon.

Ghost thought by the record how all their interactions about what is in between them go, that their kiss would be filthy. Instead it was soft and tame, he's fucking gone by this simple gesture. All kisses Ghost had up to this point where part of getting ready to fuck, they where filthy, desperate and hungry. But this kiss was the exact opposite of this and they shouldn't kiss like this. Soft kisses and holding hands is something you do when you're in love. Love has no place in their line of work, only would end in disaster but he dont care. Seeing how Soap is looking and smiling at him, washes the cold loneliness away, sooths the need of 6 year-old Simon Riley to be loved. They kiss again the shyness washed away by the understanding they both feel the same. When Soap licks over his lips Ghost pulls away. "To much?", Soap asks. "No, but if we make out I might don't care if you fuck me in a forest on the ground with no lube", Ghost atmids blushing himself now. "Sounds good to me." Soaps eyes are sinfull to look at right now, how they are darkened and the pupils are a bigger then needed for the amount of rest day light. "Yeah, I think Riley would not like that", Ghost reminds Soap of why they are even in the forest. The tree long had stopped being interesting and Riley patiently sits to their feet, waiting. "Another time then", Soap jokes while shrugging his shoulders. "You're into this primal stuff Soap?", Ghost ask suprised before stepping away. Soap looks uterly confused by the question. "A primal kink Soap, like hunting someone before you fuck on the floor like animals for example", Ghost explains, seeing the moment when realisation is washing over Soap. Soap blushes at this before he starts walking again. The next time Soap is on leave he needs to do some research.

They are standing next to the air field waiting for Price to return. They need to talk with Price as soon as possible. It dark already so they would here the apraoching plane long before they see it. "Ghost?", Soap asks knowing that now is not the time or place but he needs to now. Ghost humms as answer turning towards Soap. "Are you into it?", Soap asks referring to their talk in the forest. "I'm into things that are part of it, but I wouldn't say I have it", Ghost answers their conversation covered up from unwanted eardropers by a starting helicopter. Soap nods at this starring in the night sky again to look for the plane. "You think you have it?", Ghost asks curious. "Don't known need to look it up first", Soap answers sounding a bit mortifyed. "Would you, I mean if I had it?", Soap asks nervously. Ghost keeps his answer for later because General Shepard is aproaching them. "Captain MacTavish, Lieutenant Riley", he greats them. "General", they answer in unison. "How long till they land?", Shepard asks. "10 minutes, Sir", Soap answers. This are the longest 10 minutes of Soaps life. When the airplane finally lands and an exhausted Price and Beta team emerged Shepard marche towards them. Ghost and Soap give each other warry side glances. Price says something that Shepard doesn't like because they end up arguing. It seems like Shepard lost the argument because he storms of angry. Price walks towards them. "Price", Soap greats him and Ghost gives him a nod. "What's going on with Shepard and why is he even here?", Price asks. "To cause trouble", Soap simply answers. "What did you do Soap?", Price asks tiered, like he dont have the mental energy to deal with this. "I declined two of his request that where very last minute", Soap gives the short answer. "We talk about this tomorrow." "Yes, Sir."

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #ghostsoap #captain mactavish #captain john price #riley the dog #general shepherd #Shepard is causing problems #they finally kiss

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