Niall Horan Imagines

Survior 2

The shelter is a disaster, just like (Y/N) knew it would be.

She'd tried to play nice and follow the strategy she'd come out here with. Keep your mouth shut and follow someone else's instructions until the merge. Just slip under the radar.

Unfortunately, in all her careful planning (Y/N) hadn't factored in her own personality.

She rolls over for what must be the five hundredth time since she'd laid down to sleep, trying and failing to get comfortable on the horribly constructed floor of the shelter. If she had just followed her instincts and taken control, she might actually be sleeping, or at least lying awake without sand mites biting all up and down her arms and legs.

(Y/N) hears a tiny groan not too far from where she's laid out. She tries to remember who had settled there since she can't see a thing without a fire in the pitch black night.

(Y/N) closes her eyes and shakes her head. No fire. No water. Poor shelter. Maybe playing this game again was just a waste of his time. (y/N) knew whichever tribe got water first would have an edge in the first immunity challenge, and if they won, then they'd have momentum.

(Y/N) won't be on the losing tribe twice. She won't.

The source of the groan starts to shift, but they're moving slowly, like that will somehow be less likely to disturb the people around them. She suddenly remembers that it's Niall who'd taken a spot at the edge of the shelter; Niall, who hadn't raised a word of complaint all day, who'd somehow managed to thank everyone for how hard they'd worked even as he'd winced while sneaking little rubs to the same spot on his back when he thought no one was looking.

So (Y/N) isn't the only one not sleeping.

Fuck the plan. Tomorrow she needs to take charge of this hellhole, or they're all going to be too weak to compete successfully in the upcoming challenge.

She rolls over again so she's facing Niall, closes her eyes, and tries to shut her brain off.

"I never heard so much crybaby titysucking in my life. We've bitched about the shelter. We've bitched about the fire. We've bitched about each other. We're gonna have to toughen up." - Harry, Chapera

DAY 2

Niall gives up on sleep almost as soon as the sun rises. He rolls out of the shelter and heads toward the beach, rubbing at the corners of his eyes and trying to fight the prickling he feels there. It was a pretty horrible night, but he knows it's just a combination of exhaustion and dehydration that's making him tear up. He'll snap out of it after a splash of cold salt water and a few minutes alone.

It works for the most part, but as he walks back to camp ten minutes later he hears raised voices. The rest of his tribe clearly woke up equally miserable.

Louis is frozen halfway between the jungle and their camp, watching (Y/N) incredulously. "The fuck do you think you're doing?"

"Building us a shelter people can actually sleep in," (Y/N) says tightly.

(Y/N) is closest to the shelter, which now looks more run-down than ever. The roof is drooping sadly from where several of the pieces of wood they'd fashioned into support beams have been wrenched out, tossed into a pile that includes wood that's been torn from the shelter's floor.

"What's going on?" Niall asks, looking between the two of them.

Louis laughs humorlessly. "Came back from collecting kindle to find this idiot tearing down the camp we spent all day building!" He sounds a little hysterical, but Niall doesn't really blame him. You look bored by his dramatics.