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phoenixyfriend · 9 months ago

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How to Call Your Reps About Gaza

I make a lot of posts telling you to call your reps! Anyway, here's the overall shape of how to argue to them.

Disclaimer: I am not in politics. I do not have experience as a staffer. I am just someone who cares a lot about where things are going, and wants to help. Also, this is specific to the US, because that's where I'm based. Hopefully, people with expertise can add more suggestions on.

Find your elected officials.

My Ko-fi: this took me two days to write up, so uh. If you've got a few dollars, send them my way so I can keep doing this sort of thing, and maybe move out of my parents' house sooner.

General tips:

Be polite, or at least civil. Do not swear or shout at whoever answers the phone. This will quite possibly get your number blocked. Fifty civil calls over the course of several months will do more than one where you shout. You can be frosty, you can say you are disappointed, you can say you find the actions of your reps to be reprehensible or morally bankrupt, sure. But keep calm and aim criticism at the rep, not the staffer.

Keep it short. The staffers who answer call centers are busy. They usually start trying to hurry me off after about two minutes. I've yet to manage a call longer than four or five minutes. Pick one or two topics for the day, and focus on those. Cycle through them every time you call. Stick to just one from day to day if it's a large, ongoing issue like Gaza.

Plan for voicemail. I get voicemail more often than not. My House rep usually has a staffer free, but the Senators are almost always voicemail. This will give you a minute and a half max. Be ready to get your point squeezed into that.

Only call your representatives. The important, powerful word here is "constituent." You will be ignored or even counted against if you are from a different district or state. The first thing you start with is your name and address. A staffer will ask for the information they need. On voicemail, leave your full name, your city and state, and zip code before you go into your message. Do not lie, either. They look these things up in the system when you call. I'm not sure how--I think maybe they have access to a database of registered voters--but every time I call, they ask for my last name and address and at some point say, 'oh, yep, I've got you right here,' which indicates a database of some sort.

Research at least a little bit about their opinions. If they already agree with you, then it's much easier to leave a quick "I support you and want you to know that" to combat anyone who's arguing from the other side. If they don't, then you're best off finding out what specific issue they have so you can know the best kind of comment to leave.

Look up specific bills or arguments. I get daily emails from GovTrack about bills that are on this week's docket or have been voted on in the past day. IDK about anyone else, but being able to say that I disagree specifically with HR 815 or something makes me feel powerful, and possibly like I will be taken more seriously. Sometimes you can start with articles like this one, which include links to specific bills on the official congress website.

Email after if you can. Reportedly less effective, and takes longer, but you are more likely to get a written (canned) response, and it reinforces whatever you called about.

Basic structure of a call, at least as I've been doing it:

"Hi, my name is ____ ____, and I am a constituent from [city, state], [zip]. I am calling to express my opinion on [topic]. I am concerned about [short argument with a clear impact on the topic]. I ask that you support [measure or fellow congress member]/vote [yay/nay on specific legislature]. Thank you for your time, and I hope you keep my opinion in mind."

For this post, the topic can be stated as the war in Gaza, military funding for Israel, or unrest in the Middle East, depending on which you think your elected official will respond to best. That said, the structure should work for whatever your call is about.

Arguments to use against your elected official... or your on-the-fence cousin:

I'll be honest, some of these are not going to do much against your representative. They know the arguments, and have been going over them with each other for months. You just need to have one locked and loaded that they consider relevant instead of a nonstarter, in order to back up your opinion as 'founded' instead of 'nonsense, can be swayed with a good marketing campaign.'

I'll include explanations if I don't think something is self-evident (or needs more evidence to tell your cousin), but in most of them I'll provide some suggested verbiage that you can tweak as needed, and for a few of them, that's really enough.

THESE ARE FOR THE TOPIC OF CONCERN, ONLY. You still need to end each one with "I ask that the [official] votes to [action]" at the end. Give them something actionable (example from Feb. 13th). My go-tos right now:

Both chambers: Reinstate funding for UNRWA

Both chambers: Place mandatory restrictions on any aid to Israel, with contractual threats to cut funding if Netanyahu and his government continue to disregard civilian life

Senate: Put support behind Bernie Sanders and his motion to restrict funding to Israel until a humanitarian review of the IDF’s actions in Gaza has been completed (S.R. 504) (Tabled by the Senate on 1/16, but it is being brought back in as conditions continue to escalate)

House: Put support behind Rep. Rashida Tlaib’s petition for the US government to recognize the IDF’s actions in Gaza as ethnic cleansing and forced displacement, and put a stop to it.

House: Put support behind H.R. 786, introduced by Rep. Cori Bush, calling for an immediate deescalation and cease-fire in Israel and occupied Palestine.

What Not to Say

"There is no threat to Israel." I've talked about this elsewhere, but the short version is that this will be basically laughed out as you not knowing what you're talking about.

Anything generically antisemitic. (I mean, it might work on some of the white supremacists, but do you really want to encourage that thinking? No, so don't do it.)

Facts that you "heard somewhere" but cannot find a reliable source for. If it's being reported by the New York Times, NPR, or the BBC, it's probably trustworthy by government standards. If it's not a super common statistic, cite the journal you got it from by name. Remember, you aren't arguing to tumblr mutuals. You are arguing to your elected official or your 'I don't really pay attention' cousin. When it comes to this, big name news sources are better.

Unrealistic demands for complete isolationism, permanently abandoning Israel to its own devices, supporting Hamas, etc. Again, you will not be taken seriously. Pick an argument they might actually listen to, and use it to press them towards a possible solution. You want them to believe that if they adjust their position, they will be doing the will of most of their constituents, and thus more likely to get reelected.

The Ethics Argument

Third-party reporting has stated that that nearly 29,000 Gazans are dead since Oct. 7th, as of 2/18/24. The vast majority of those are civilians, and over half are children. Palestinians in Gaza are facing an acute hunger crisis threatening to become a full-blown famine.

The International Court of Justice has found that there is credible reason to believe that the state of Israel is committing a genocide against the Palestinians of Gaza.

This does not mean that every single Israeli is complicit. It does mean that the government, particularly Netanyahu and his associates, has been reprimanded by a large, diverse coalition of countries, and has consistently refused to listen to that court since.

This argument will possibly work on your cousin. Less likely to work on your elected official. They already know the numbers. I just wanted to get it out of the way first.

The Re-Election Argument: Michigan vs New York

Meanwhile, this is possibly the most effective. Again, this is not an argument of ethics. This is an argument of "how can I make my elected official do what I want." We do not use only the purest moral argument. We use what works.

What to say to your elected official: Michigan, as a swing state, was won by democrats on the power of the Arab-American vote in the 2020 election. We (either party) are at risk of losing Michigan due to the current Congressional approach to the Gaza conflict, as that demographic is now polling as likely to abstain from voting entirely. The risk of losing several congressional districts due to the Jewish vote is a real one, but the risk of losing the the executive branch is greater, especially after what we saw with Suozzi. Supporting Palestine might lose us parts of New York, but supporting Israel will lose us Michigan.

Explanation: Something that has been taking up a lot of time and space in the election coverage is the situation in Michigan, and more recently, there has been attention paid to the special election of New York's third district, AKA the "who gets to replace disgraced George Santos" competition.

Michigan is traditionally a swing state. While 2.1% doesn't sound like a lot, that is some 211k-278k people (depending on your source), and while not all of them can vote... Michigan was won by about 154k. Arab-Americans are not the only relevant demographic, but they sure are an important one, and they are vocally opposed to the situation. Approval has dropped from 59% to 17%. From that same article:

As Axios notes, Biden won Michigan in 2020 by 154,000 votes, but there are at least 278,000 Arab Americans in Michigan. Biden took Arizona, a state with an Arab American population of 60,000, by only 10,500 votes. In Georgia, Biden prevailed with a margin of 11,800 voters, in a state that has an Arab American population of 57,000.

Democrats cannot afford to lose these states. Pressure your congresspeople about that, especially if you live in one of those states. I assume most Arab-Americans in said states are already calling every day; the rest of you can join in.

Meanwhile, most Jews (considered the most pro-Israel demographic by strategists) in America are concentrated in a very small number of electoral districts. Of the twenty most-Jewish, ten are in New York, which is why I put it up in the section header.

One of those districts was won by a Republican in 2022: George Santos, New York's third congressional district. Following his scandals and ousting, the seat was up for a special election, and the two candidates were Tom Suozzi, a democrat who held the seat previously (he decided to run for governor, and lost), and Mazi Pilip, a Nassau county legislator who was of Ethiopian Jewish background and had been in the IDF. She ran on a campaign that leaned strongly pro-Israel and anti-immigration, and when Suozzi won, she interrupted his victory speech to accuse him of supporting a genocide against Israel due to his rather centrist, rather milquetoast stance on the conflict during his election campaign.

Now, Suozzi's win probably had more to do with Pilip being anti-choice than her pro-Israel arguments, but he still won.

Democrats can better risk possibly losing a few seats in NY than definitely losing three swing states.

"But I don't want Dems to win their districts after what they've been--" Nope. Listen to me. Surveys indicate that Republicans are on average more pro-Israel, because Trump and Netanyahu are buddy-buddy, and we do not have a viable third option.

Also, again, this is about convincing Dems to be better. "If you do not vote to put restrictions on funding to Israel, I will not vote for you in November" is a lot more powerful than "I will not vote for you either way, because of what you've been doing, but you should do what I say anyway."

The Re-Election Argument: Risk of Escalation

So, that thing I said about Trump and Netanyahu?

Yeah, so, while Biden is giving Israel military aid while cautioning them to slow down and be careful, Trump is... complicated, but suffice to say he's much closer to Netanyahu on a personal level than Biden is. Biden's relation with Netanyahu is reportedly pretty frosty, while Trump's is based on relations through the Kushners.

Just from wikipedia:

Netanyahu made his closeness to Donald Trump, a personal friend since the 1980s, central to his political appeal in Israel from 2016.[21] During Trump's presidency, the United States recognized Jerusalem as the capital of Israel, recognized Israeli sovereignty over the Golan Heights, and brokered the Abraham Accords, a series of normalization agreements between Israel and various Arab states.

Trump's been more all-over-the-place recently, badmouthing Netanyahu for being what Trump perceives as a loser, which complicates understanding what his approach is. It's kind of incoherent right now.

Given Trump's general history of being pro-Israel, though, and the attempts by House Republicans to push through a bill of unconditional funding for Israel. It failed, but notable is that the more recent bill passed in part because it was paired with aid for Ukraine and Taiwan (something Dems are much more invested in having happen).

What to say to your elected official: If Trump is reelected due to his current appearance of being more critical of Netanyahu, there is evidence from his presidency to indicate that he will support Israel much less critically if elected. While he claims to want to settle the Middle East, it seems incredibly likely that he will worsen the situation for Palestinians, and ramp up retaliatory strikes to groups like the Houthis in a manner that will impact non-military parties, igniting tensions that are already tenuous.

The Disrespect/Wild Card Argument

This particular argument is best used against the Very Patriotic Politicians who are more concerned with the US's image and Being The Alpha Nation than with other things. Basically, this might work on Republicans.

This isn't really something I believe in, as a matter of foreign policy, buuuut it might work on your rep, so. Consider it!

What to say to your elected official: With Israel's recent actions in ignoring Biden, blocking US-sent aid like those flour trucks that got stopped at the Rafah border because they'd be distributed by UNWA, and generally Disrespecting The USA and Being Unpredictable is not only making the US look bad for being unable to wrangle a smaller country, but also making it so we are less able to wrangle other countries in the future, because Israel cannot be predicted and might set someone off.

The Europe and Reputation Argument

What to say to your elected official: The United States is losing credibility as a world power known for its military and ability to manage international disputes on behalf of the UN, because it is seemingly unable to influence Israel, and losing credibility as an upstanding moral state that is not doing foreign coups and banana republics anymore, as it appears to be tacitly supporting Israel's ICJ-labelled genocide, which is a really bad look with the other Western Powers.

I'm not entirely sure who this might work on, but there's gotta be at least a few politicians who are really concerned about America's image, more than about actually doing the right thing. Figure out if your politician is one of them.

If necessary, you can bring up how Trump is threatening to pull US support for NATO if Russia attacks someone.

The Middle East Stability Argument: Iran-backed Militias

What to say to your elected official: I'm concerned that the continued support of Israel, and thus the funding of their actions in Gaza, will increase the instability of Iran-backed militias, as we have already seen with the Houthis and Hezbollah. Entire Muslim-majority nations are showing increased displeasure not only with Israel, but with the US by extension. We cannot afford another war in the Middle East when we haven't yet pulled all our troops from the last one, not with the recent and recurring economic recessions. Any situation would also very likely be complicated or inflamed by the growing tensions among Eritrea, Djibouti, and Ethiopia regarding Red Sea access as well.

Use this on the ones that claim to be pro-military or pro-veteran. See what they said about HR 815 before the foreign military funding amendment was added.

The Middle East Stability Argument: Egypt

What to say to your elected official: Egypt's government has been unstable since the Arab Spring, and even now the military government is incredibly unpopular. With that existing instability, the addition of economic strain from the reduced usage of the Suez canal, the international disputes occurring because they're the main throughway for aid into Gaza, and the threat of a sudden influx of nearly one and a half million Palestinian refugees should Israel continue to push south... Egypt is looking at a possible near-collapse as we've seen in nearby nations suffering similar instabilities.

Explanation: It took several years for Egypt to really start recovering from the revolts in 2013, and it has applied for four IMF loans in recent years. The current government is unpopular to such a degree that they are looking to build an entire new capital from scratch in the middle of the desert so that they're less open to the risk of civilian uprisings; one of the primary causes for civilian dissatisfaction is economic issues.

Due to Houthi attacks at the Bab al-Mandab Strait, traffic through the Suez canal is down massively, and since the canal "represents almost 5% of the GNP and 10% of GDP and is one of Egypt’s most important sources of hard currency." (src) Various sources are reporting that trade through the canal is down 40-50%, which is putting more strain on the already unstable economic and political situation.

Finally, Egypt's population is about 110 million, but the governorate that shares a border with Israel and Gaza, North Sinai, has a population of barely 500,000. A push of one and a half million starving, injured people will, very suddenly, nearly quadruple the population of the governorate, and require extreme aid response from Egypt's government to keep alive and prevent a larger crisis in North Sinai and neighboring governorates.

The Middle East Stability Argument: Normalized Relations

What to say to your elected official: I am concerned that Israel's continued attack on Gaza is jeopardizing any chance of normalized relations with the Arab states in the future. American has put a lot of work into trying to get these various countries to normalize with Israel, and our funding of the current attacks on Gaza are sabotaging all that effort.

This one can be combined with the Iran-Backed Militias argument: Israel, in pursuit of revenge against Hamas, is setting itself up to be in more danger long-term, rather than less.

The International Trade Argument

What to say to your elected official: I am concerned about how the war in Gaza is impacting international trade and shipping costs. With the Suez Canal down to half its usual capacity and the Panama Canal raising costs and dropping capacity in response to the water restrictions, along with rising fuel costs in Europe and Asia, global trade is incredibly strained. We are being relegated to the Cape of Good Hope, Cape Horn, and the Malacca strait for much of intercontinental trade, and the macroeconomic projections are looking very bad for America.

The Domestic Economics Argument

What to say to your elected official: Many of the plans for Israeli military funding cause damage to other parts of the budget. For instance, a recent plan put forward by the Republicans of the House suggested IRS cuts in order to move that money, a plan which would impact the US budget negatively in the long term; we need those 14 billion being spent domestically, not supporting an overreaction/possible genocide in Gaza.

Explanation: In general, pick something receiving budget cuts that your congressperson will care about. I care about IRS funding, and saw it mentioned as a target in an article, so that's what I've got in my suggested verbiage up there.

The fewer people that are working for the IRS, the more they focus on auditing poor people (simple, easy taxes) and the less they can effectively audit rich people (complicated, time-consuming taxes), which means rich people are more likely to get away with evading millions or even billions in taxation. So yeah, you want more funding in the IRS if you are poor. They are already auditing you. You want them to audit the big guys.

The Russia and China Argument

What to say to your elected official: I am worried that the current focus on funding Israel without restriction is causing us to lose sight of the international threat posed by Russia and China. Russia is actively invading Ukraine, which continues to put massive strain on the European economy with regards to oil prices, especially with the Suez situation, and China has been testing missiles near Taiwan, and thus testing US responsiveness to those threats, for months now. We cannot afford to support an internationally unpopular war if we want to remain ready for Russia and China.

This is less likely to work on Republicans, since Trump is friendly with Russia, but hey, give it a shot if they're one of the ones who aren't fully in his camp.

EDIT 2/22/24: I'm a bit unsure of this tactic, but I'm putting it out there with hopes that someone with more political experience can offer feedback:

"Congress, and the US government in general, has promised to sanction Russia for the alleged assassination of one man within a week of the suspicious death, after five months of refusing to enact even slight consequences on Israel for the deaths of nearly thirty thousand, half of which are children. This is ethically questionable at best, but for the interests of elected officials, it is a very bad look. The mismatch shows a massive bias by the American government in regards to Israel's ongoing mass murder, with over two million facing famine as a result of Israel's aid blocking, and America's reputation on the world stage, as well as individual politicians' reputations domestically with constituents, is plummeting."

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Finally, my ko-fi again. I spent a long time on this and I'd like to move out of my parents' house sooner rather than later. If you appreciate my time and effort, please feel free to donate a couple bucks.

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nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos · 4 months ago

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OmfffffGGGG the fun I had writing this chapter GUYS—

I mean start to finish, I've been giggling like an idiot the entire mfing TIME

Well, alternating between giggling like an idiot and snickering deviously like a witch huddled over a cauldron but that's neither here nor there

Of course we have banter between Garp's dippy ass and Bogard's far more poised and reasonable demeanor, but also

BUT ALSO—

i cannot

I can't spoil it I cannot I will not I must not I shan't it would be positively rude in all honesty i will not—

Just———muffled screaming

Look I'm sorry in advance I had way too much fun with this

even mihawk is done with my shit at this point

Flight Risk

Young!Mihawk x Marine!AFAB!Reader

Ch. 4 of who even fcking knows at this point honestly, five? Six? Fifty? Whatever just let me vibe

Brief summary of The Story So Far: Your mission, as a Marine and Zoan type devil fruit user (gray parrot), is to gather intel on Dracule Mihawk, a pirate on the Grand Line who has become a thorn in the Marines' side over a relatively short period of time. Your first recon mission, while more or less a success, left you wounded and your commanding officers more divided than ever over the operation at hand. You have since arrived at Marineford to complete your training for the mission, and gods only know where things might go from here....

Previous chapter, First chapter, Next chapter

SFW for now, but not in later chapters

No Trigger Warnings in this chapter. Possible future Trigger Warnings for imprisonment, mild torture (definitely psychological, maybe physical)

Tags: Enemies to lovers, eventually NSFW, idk maybe more later Word Count: 4,832

Taglist: @i-am-vita thank you so much you have no idea how much this means to me

♫♬Halloween Blues - The Fratellis♬♫

Well, I'm gonna make ya love me, gonna make ya wish that you'd never been born

Now ya wish you'd never met me, I could be the joker that you couldn't shake off

It was agreed upon by all parties involved that not a word would be spoken of your ill-advised “test” at Kuraigana Island to anyone but Fleet Admiral Sengoku. The brunt of the chastisement fell upon Garp and Bogard, as the commanding officers overseeing the mission; and while you were scolded yourself for getting far closer than your orders had suggested you should, you were still commended for providing valuable new information.

The Marines were now aware that Kuraigana Island was home to a population of large primates, of undetermined size or intelligence but with enough intellect to use basic weaponry.

The Marines were also now aware that the presence of Dracule “Hawk-Eye” Mihawk on the otherwise abandoned island was confirmed, and that the volatile pirate had most likely set up at least a temporary base amid the desolate castle ruins.

You were permitted to keep in contact with your mother over the following months of your training as promised, with the stipulation that your letters would be screened to ensure you didn’t relay any confidential information to outside parties. As such, you wrote your final letter aboard a small unmarked vessel bound to pass by Kuraigana Island perhaps four months after the first, and had handed it over to Bogard to scan over.

Hi, Mom!

I’m still doing great, I promise. Training has been exhausting but I’ve learned a lot, and it’s been a breath of fresh air to be among people that actually seem to like me. My commanding officers are a little annoying, but I guess they’re okay. I trust them.

This will be the last letter for a while since I’m being deployed. You don’t have to worry, it’s nothing serious and I’ll be fine, I just won’t be somewhere that I can receive any mail. You can still write me though, and I’ll be able to reply the second I get back to my base. I don’t know exactly how long that will be, but the tentative estimate is two months. It could be sooner, but it could be a little longer.

Love you, and give my love to all our feathery friends.

“Ten minutes out,” said Garp, sitting against the railing with a doughnut hanging out of his mouth as he finished filling out the remainder of the paperwork he had put off until the very last minute.

“‘Commanding officers are a little annoying, but I guess they’re okay,’” Bogard read aloud, lowering your letter to glance down at you with a wry look.

“She’s not wrong, you’re pretty damned irritating,” said Garp. Bogard lowered his eyes to the vice admiral sitting on the deck of the ship, lifting an eyebrow.

Garp only raised his doughnut with a nod and took another bite before returning to his report. Bogard huffed out a sigh and folded the letter, turning his gaze to you as you paced back and forth across the small deck. The vessel was little more than a sloop, designed for no more than one or two people to sail on their own, sturdy enough to withstand the unpredictable weather patterns of the Grand Line but far less advanced than the standard Marine vessel. You barely noticed his gaze upon you, staring down at your feet as you paced, counting the nails in the deck boards in a futile attempt to keep your mind clear from the quickly approaching start of your mission.

You stopped in your tracks the moment Bogard cleared his throat to get your attention, lifting your head sharply and standing at attention.

“A…at ease,” he said slowly, watching you shuffle your feet and fold your hands behind your back. “Your letter will be sent once Garp and myself return to Marineford,” he assured you. “Once you have left this ship, your own contact with the Marines will cease for a period of no less than two months, unless you are forced to make emergency contact. Emergecy contact will only be employed—”

“Under the circumstance that my own life is in immediate and unquestionable danger,” you responded immediately, to which Bogard gave a curt nod.

“Correct,” he agreed. “There will be a covert Marine presence at every island neighboring Kuraigana. Should you require rescue, the closest vessel will be able to arrive within twenty-four hours.”

“She won’t need it,” Garp chimed in through the last bite of his doughnut, and in a rare break of his iron composure, Bogard reached into one of his overcoat pockets and threw a pen at him in response. You watched as Garp caught it and used the implement to sign his name at the bottom of his paperwork before flicking it across the deck of the ship. “Have a little faith, Bogard. We have at our disposal a trained weapon of subterfuge.”

Garp wrapped his hand around the railing behind him and pulled himself to his feet, strolling over to your side and clapping you on the shoulder.

“Trained under our own supervision,” he went on proudly, while Bogard closed his eyes and heaved a slow, impatient sigh, waiting for him to go on. “Who has already provided us with more up-to-date information on the target than anyone else in our ranks—”

“—I’m still not saying your impulsive little test was anything but idiotic—”

“—and humbly declined to take credit for any of it,” Garp went on , ignoring his partner. You jolted as he gave you a sharp pat on the back. “She’ll be just fine. Won’t ya, kid?”

“I’ll—perform my duties as expected of…” You trailed off into a sigh yourself when Garp rolled his eyes. “Yeah,” you said stiffly. “I’ll be fine.”

“See? She’ll be fine.”

Garp gave a firm nod, as if your word was more than enough to affirm your fate as solid fact.

And then his brow furrowed as he stared across the deck.

His eyes narrowed into a squint, and he turned his head the slightest bit, his hand lowering from your shoulder and back to his side,

“No…that’s not…”

By the time Bogard turned his head, Garp was already striding across the deck, extending a spyglass as he leaned over the railing and stared through the scope. He gave a growl of annoyance as he held the scope out behind him for Bogard to take. Your heart raced as you slowly crossed the deck to join them, your already thin resolve faltering when Bogard slowly lowered the scope to glance at Garp.

“This changes—”

“It changes nothing,” said Garp, jerking his head to look at Bogard.

You didn’t need the spyglass to see the foggy haze around Kuraigana Island past the railing, no more than you needed it to see the small ship docked near its southern banks. You couldn’t make out much about it, but you could see the one thing that mattered—it flew a black flag.

“Red-Hair,” said Garp. “I knew he’d be trouble. I told Sengoku, I told him—”

“Why the hell would he be here?” Bogard said slowly, looking back out toward the island. He glanced behind him, and held out the spyglass for you to take. You moved to the railing between them, holding it to one eye and shutting the other to look through it at the distant ship. “There’s no chance any information has—”

“No, there isn’t,” agreed Garp, as your vision adjusted against the magnification of the lenses. You scanned over the small ship, which appeared to be empty, before lifting your head to focus on its flag—a jolly roger, decorated with a pair of crossed cutlasses and a skull with three slashes across one eye.

“Red-Haired Shanks…?” you said slowly, lowering the scope, glancing between Garp and Bogard as they stared out at the ship. “Ah—three hundred million, two hundred sixty-two thousand berry bounty.”

“Sixty-three,” corrected Bogard absently, glancing at Garp. Garp remained focused, his eyes narrowed as he stared at the ship, his grip tight around the deck railing. “Vice-Admiral.” He glanced over sharply when Bogard spoke up. “This does change—”

“It changes nothing,” Garp growled firmly.

You didn’t particularly like the way Bogard leaned over the railing, holding his hat in place as he shook his head, staring at Garp with no small degree of trepidation. Your eyes shifted to Garp when he turned around to face you, frowning down at you thoughtfully,

“Or it could change things for the better,” he said slowly, letting out a small chuckle. “Well, lass. This is your call. Seems more than just Mihawk might be docked at the island ahead of us.” You nodded shortly to show you were following, waiting for him to continued. “Not much is known about Shanks as yet…to the masses.”

“Garp—”

Garp held up a hand when Bogard tossed a warning look at him.

“—but I have on good authority that he trained under Gold Roger himself.” Your eyes widened, flickering back toward the ship in question, as Bogard let out a growl of annoyance and stormed back toward the opposite side of the deck. “This is an unexpected turn.” Your gaze shot back toward Garp as he straightened out, folding his hands behind his back and staring down at you. “We can head back toward Marineford and go through all the meticulous to-do’s of officially changing our plans, spend a few more months buried in paperwork, or—”

“I’m going.” He raised his eyebrows, his lips already twitching toward a smile at the firmness of your words. “The Red-Hair pirates would be no more aware of who I am than Mihawk. There’s no point wasting any more time.”

“No, I guess there isn’t,” he agreed, grinning. He cleared his throat, cupping a hand around his mouth and making a show of calling across the small expanse of the deck to Bogard. “You might just be able to gather us a little more intel than we expeced. Hear that, Bogard? No need to delay!”

“No need to pull a muscle patting yourself on the back, either,” Bogard grumbled, just loud enough to ensure Garp heard him.

“Alright, kid,” said Garp, happily ignoring him as he leaned against the side of the railing. “We’ve got under ten minutes, so here’s the rundown.” He turned his head, looking out toward the ship moored just off the edge of the island. “Shanks, as I said. Captain, pupil of Gold Roger himself. Primary weapon is a sabre. Straw hat, bright red hair, difficult to miss. There’s Yasopp, the first man to join his crew, at the time he was regarded as the sharpest shooter in the East Blue. Dark skin, dreadlocks, carries a pair of flintlock pistols.”

“So...that’s his first mate?”

“No.” Your brow furrowed. “That would be Beckman. Dark hair, ponytail, built like a brick shithouse. Carries a flintlock rifle. He’s a damn good shot himself but he’ll use the thing as a club in close quarters. Lucky Roux, the cook, bastard’s probably as wide as he is tall…”

You listened closely to Garp’s continued colorful descriptions of the crew officers of the Red Hair Pirates—and the potential dangers they could pose to your health should anyone discover what you really were.

“Red Hair isn’t the brightest match in the box,” he went on, “but there’s a great deal of evidence that he closely rivals Dracule Mihawk in swordsmanship. Should the two end up fighting, you keep your distance. Otherwise, be exceedingly careful around Benn Beckman. He’s the idiot’s first mate for a reason and probably accounts for ninety percent of the collective brain cells of the entire crew. You’ll have to keep a close eye on him while you keep up your act. There’s no telling why they’re docked here, and it would be in your best interest to figure it out. If they’re going to be around for a while, keep your distance.”

“I...sort of doubt any of them are ornithology experts,” you said, frowning.

“As much as one might doubt that a species of unknown primates could learn to use relatively modern weaponry.” You turned your head sharply at the sound of Bogard’s voice close behind you—you hadn’t heard him cross the deck. Your frown deepened as he gave a pointed glance at the scar spanning nearly the entire length of your right upper arm. Garp, gestured to the other Marine pointedly at his statement, and you couldn’t deny that he had a point either. “You’ll keep your distance. Fooling one pirate alone is going to be a great deal easier and safer than attempting to fool an entire crew of them.” He turned his head to Garp. “This is still the most ridiculous mission I’ve ever had the displeasure of being involved in.”

“Ah, girl’s got her act down fine,” he said dismissively—and Garp wasn’t wrong about that. Your favorite part of your training by far had been simply flying around the massive base at Marineford, taking tally of how many of the staff and officers you could fool. The only individuals privy to the exact nature of your mission were Garp and Bogard, a small selection of admirals and vice admirals, and Fleet Admiral Sengoku himself. Your performance had been enough to levy a unanimous vote to go forth with the mission. “Your persona, cadet?”

“Gray parrot, previously the pet of a pirate crew that perished in battle, therefore comfortable around pirates in general,” you said. “Able to repeat a number of sounds and phrases that might be heard aboard a ship, capable of learning new phrases and words faster than most other similar species of bird. Particular disdain for Marines and may fly into a frenzy at the sight of their vessels.”

“See?” said Garp, clapping you on the back hard enough that you flinched. “I’d say we’ve got this in the bag.”

Bogard stared between the two of you for a moment, frowning, before shaking his head. “God help us all,” he muttered under his breath, lifting a hand to rub his eyes.

The final few minutes of the voyage were spent with Garp and Bogard grilling you about the small amount of information known by the Marines about Dracule Mihawk, about the quick briefing you had just received on the Red Hair pirates, about your memorization of the den den mushi numbers you were to contact in the event that your life was in immediate danger or that you found any information useful enough to wrap the operation up early. Garp gave a resolute nod as you neared your destination, around a mile and a half off the shore of Kuraigana Island, and Bogard gave a heavy sigh and a short nod in silent agreement—no matter how little he approved, you were as ready as you were going to be.

“Alright, then, cadet,” said Garp, his wide grin a direct contrast to his partner’s pessimism. “Bird mode, activate.”

“Must you call it that?” said Bogard, tossing a weary look at Garp as you gave a quick salute and immediately shrank down into your devil fruit form on the deck. You fluttered your wings enough to hop up onto the deck railing in front of them, and Bogard frowned down at you. “Best of luck,” he offered. “Should all go according to plan, we’ll see you again in no more than two months.”

He cringed the slightest bit when you raised your wing in another salute, squawking out over Garp’s snort of laughter, “Wind in your sails!”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Garp, waving you off. “Now shoo, bird. And no getting yourself killed.”

And once more, you found yourself flying out toward Kuraigana Island.

You made a high pass over the Red Hair’s ship, squinting down toward it as you soared overhead, and the cause of their mooring near the island became quickly clear—it appeared that there was work being performed on a few sizable cannonball holes on the port side of the vessel. You were surprised to see a handful of the crew on the beach near the edge of the forest, seeming to be laughing among themselves and having a grand time, the primates that had attacked you nowhere in sight. Lucky Roux was easy enough to pick out, exactly as Garp had described him—striped shirt and tinted goggles, easily as wide as he was tall, sitting against a tree and taking a bite out of what looked like an entire leg of lamb while another crewmate assisted in bandaging his arm.

Perhaps they had had a run-in with the local apes.

You took that as enough reason to remain vigilant as you flew high over the forest, scanning the treetops below for any signs of movement. It was a relief that there seemed to be none—if the Red Hair pirates had come in contact with the violent creatures, it seemed they had managed to beat them into submission. You considered how Garp had told you that no one had ever entered the island on foot and lived to tell the tale, and it sent a shiver over your spine to think that the crew might be that formidable.

The first signs of movement you witnessed came only once you neared the castle itself, and you nearly faltered in your flight.

Your target was directly below you.

Sitting on a broken piece of stone wall in the courtyard, clad in a white shirt with a ruffled collar and a pair of black pants, his hat sitting to the side next to him, his massive sword lying across his lap as he polished the handle. You slowly, cautiously circled lower, keeping a fair distance, your eyes remaining on the pirate. His mouth seemed to be fixed in a scowl, his posture tense.

You cautiously landed in one of the castle windows several feet away, side-stepping until you were perched in the very corner of the indentation, your gray plumage a perfect camouflage against the rugged stone, and the reason for Mihawk’s clear irritation became immediately evident as the sound of a nonchalant voice tore your gaze away from him.

“Nice place you’ve got here, Hawk-Eye.”

Shanks.

Garp’s description had once again been right on the money—his stringy scarlet hair was capped by a straw-hat, his hands tucked behind his neck as he paced across a pile of rubble that might have once been a wall, a long sabre tucked into his red cloth belt at his right hip. He hopped down to the ground as you watched, resting his elbow on the hilt of the sword as he stared up at the castle. “Be a shame if something happened to it.”

He reached over with his left hand, wrapping it around the handle of the sword, and you tensed immediately, prepared to take flight as he grinned and glanced over at Mihawk.

“Divi—”

Mihawk was on his feet in a flash, his sword extended out at arm’s length, the blade less than an inch away from Shanks’s neck, his sharp yellow eyes narrowing to threatening slits as Shanks lifted his hands up in mock-surrender, still grinning.

“Only kidding,” he said, taking a cautious step back from the edge of the black blade.

Mihawk eyed him with a venomous glare for a few seconds longer before pulling his blade back swiftly to his side and rolling his eyes, a growl of annoyance leaving him as he turned on his heel and stormed back over to the broken wall, sitting down once more. “Remind me of what the hell you’re doing here and precisely why you haven’t left yet?”

“Am I not allowed to visit my friends?” said Shanks, clutching at his chest dramatically in feigned offense. Mihawk ignored the redhead as he sat down heavily on the ground, grabbing a bottle of dark liquor propped up against the pile of rubble and working the cork loose. “Hey, it’s not my fault. This is where the Log pose pointed us. We needed to do a few repairs on the ship. Noticed your old rowboat moored nearby—”

“Rowboat,” Mihawk repeated under his breath, one of his eyes twitching the slightest bit.

“So what’s with the pissed off monkeys, anyway?” said Shanks, nodding toward the forest before taking a swig from the bottle and flicking the cork over his shoulder. “Few of them were damn near as good with a sword as you are.” Mihawk’s eyes shot toward him in a warning glare, and rolled away when Shanks gave a broad grin in response. “Train them yourself?”

“No,” he said shortly. “The humandrills were already quite capable with a variety of weapons when I arrived—”

“Aww, you named them?”

“I discovered the name among the historical documents in castle,” he said through his teeth. “It seems they learned to use weapons by watching their human neighbors before they managed to wipe themselves out. Perhaps,” he went on, before Shanks could speak up again, “your time would better be served overseeing the repairs on your ship so you can leave the moment they’re done.”

“Oh, the repairs are almost finished,” said Shanks, waving a dismissive hand. “Just waiting for the log pose to finish linking up.” He took a sip from his bottle, lifting his eyebrows. “Why? Aren’t you enjoying the company?”

“Oh, yes, immensely,” Mihawk responded dryly.

Your eyes darted between the pair of pirates amid their exchange, keeping yourself perfectly still in the stone windowsill. It was clear that Shanks, at least, was enjoying himself, and that they seemed to have some sort of history between them. It was equally clear that Mihawk would have very much preferred that his company take a long walk off the nearest short pier. He still kept his irritation in check, though whether it was out of any actual sense of camaraderie or he simply didn’t feel like wasting his energy fighting remained unclear.

Their exchange gave you an almost overwhelming sense of déjà vu, and you made a mental note to inform Garp and Bogard of it the next time you saw them.

“Oh, so grumpy,” Shanks commented, leaning back against the rubble behind him, stretching an arm out across one of his knees. “Why don’t you go take a nap, old man? I’m sure there are plenty of beds more than suited for someone of your positively regal manner.” Mihawk went on polishing the golden handle of his sword, not bothering to glance up. “Probably more than enough beds for any number of guests—”

“No,” said Mihawk coolly, still keeping his eyes turned down toward his sword.

“Oh, come on,” Shanks groaned in complaint, laying his head back. His mouth turned down into a despondent sort of pout, tilting his head to look over at the castle—and you tensed immediately, holding your breath, remaining still as a statue. “I’ve never even been in a castle before—”

“No,” Mihawk said again, louder this time, his yellow eyes fixing on Shanks with a firm gaze this time.

“You’re absolutely no fun at all,” Shanks huffed, lifting a small piece of stone from the ground and tossing it in his direction in a half-hearted manner. “You know, you’re going to die sad and alone one day in your desolate castle.”

“And what a peaceful end it will be,” said Mihawk disinterestedly, rolling his eyes back down to the sword across his lap as he buffed a rag across the gleaming blue gem at the end of the hilt.

“But not friendless,” Shanks added, completely ignoring him. He offered another broad grin. “I’ll always be your frien—”

“Would you just go away already?” Mihawksighed wearily, lifting his head and tossing the rag aside. “It’s abundantly clear what you’re attempting to do, and it isn’t going to work.”

“Oh, and just what am I trying to do?” said Shanks...and he seemed to bite his tongue for a moment, before adding in a cheeky tone, “...friend?”

“You’re fishing for a fight,” said Mihawk, gritting his teeth, briefly gripping the handle of his sword before releasing it from his grasp. “And I’m not in the mood.”

“Oh come. On,” Shanks groaned once more, leaning back heavily and pouting. “I’m bored. There’s literally nothing on this damned island except a pile of rocks and a bunch of trees and a particularly nice castle—”

“No.” Shanks gave a huff of irritation, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at Mihawk. “Go off and play with the other monkeys if you’re so damned bored.”

“They’re already afraid of me,” he huffed, pouting like a child. He brushed a few unruly strands of hair away from his eyes, turning his gaze out toward the forest. “Stupid apes.” Mihawk only rolled his eyes, shook his head, and returned to the idle task of sword maintenance. “I’m frankly surprised you didn’t just slaughter all of them the moment you set foot here.”

“They make for a decent security system,” he said levelly.

“Or you’re secretly just a big softie—”

Shanks straightened out and gave another broad grin when Mihawk tossed a sharp glare at him...and then slumped back down in defeat when his supposed “friend” gave a heavy sigh and turned his attention back to his sword.

It went on this way for some time—Shanks continually poking and prodding, attempting to annoy Mihawk enough to coax him into a fight; and Mihawk persisting in the task of sword maintenance, running a whetstone across the already razor-sharp edge of the blade as he fought to keep his composure. The entire spectacle was rather like watching an excitable puppy yip at a surly cat.

You shifted your gaze to the edge of the nearby forest when Shanks looked over, the young captain waving once the rustling of the dense leaves gave way to a tall, broad-shouldered man in a black shirt, picking leaves out of his ponytail—no doubt Benn Beckman, from the description Garp had offered you. There was indeed a large rifle slung back across one of his shoulders, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. He glanced toward Mihawk, before stopping just short of his captain, looking down at him.

“Repairs are finished and the Log Pose’s set,” he said, his brow furrowing when Shanks frowned in clear disappointment. “We getting off of this rock or are you still antagonizing the current inhabitants?”

“I am visiting with a dear old friend,” said Shanks, giving an indignant huff and crossing his arms. He rolled his eyes back over to Mihawk. “Isn’t that right, Hawkie—?”

“Call me that again and you’ll be leaving this island wearing your entrails as necklace,” said Mihawk coolly.

“See?” said Shanks, gesturing toward Mihawk. “We’re just catching up on old times.”

Beckman stared down at his captain for a long moment, frowning, his cigarette smoldering at the corner of his mouth. He finally shook his head and stepped back a couple paces, leaning back against a pile of stones and crossing his arms. “Alright,” he said. “Have fun.”

“Oh, I am,” Shanks assured him with a positively gleeful grin. He rolled his shoulders and took a drink from the bottle of liquor clenched in his hand, his eyes drifting back over to Mihawk. “Well, it seems our all too pleasant reunion may be drawing to a close, Hawkie—”

Shanks’s grin only widened when Mihawk lifted his gaze to glare at him, his hand gripping tighter around the whetstone.

Shanks seemed to bite his tongue for a moment, pursing his lips to suppress his growing amusement at Mihawk’s growing annoyance, before his expression spread back into a grin as he lifted his eyebrows.

“How about a little kiss goodbye—y’know, between friends and all—”

“That’s it—”

Mihawk was on his feet in a flash, tossing the whetstone away.

Shanks was on his feet just as quickly, a look of absolute glee brightening his features as he drew his sabre.

Beckman took a few casual steps off to the side, pulling his cigarette down from his lips to flick the ashes away, shaking his head, his hand tightening around the butt of his rifle almost imperceptibly.

And you, in spite of yourself, let out a tiny squawk of alarm at the entire spectacle...and quickly realized your mistake.

While Mihawk surged forward with his blade drawn, while Beckman kept his sharp eyes flickering between him and his captain, Shanks’s gaze flickered over toward the sound you had just let out.

And his eyes widened the slightest bit as his eyes met yours.

And he lifted his sword to block what would have been a deadly blow from Mihawk as he continued staring at you as you froze in the windowsill, your feathers ruffling out the slightest bit in response to the terror dawning over you.

Beckman also followed his captain’s gaze, lifting an eyebrow as he noticed your presence.

Shanks drew in a sharp breath, his eyes growing even wider, wide as the eyes of a child with a bottomless wallet in a candy shop. One single, almost breathless word left his lips as they spread into a delighted smile:

“Parrot.”

Next chapter link again, for your convenience

First chapter link again, for your convenience

#one piece #opla #mihawk x reader #mihawk #dracule mihawk #dracule mihawk x reader #monkey d. garp #garp #bogard #red hair pirates #shanks #fan fiction #one piece fan fiction #fanfic #one piece fanfic #flightrisk

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just-a-creep-babe · 1 month ago

Note

Can you write nsfw for Cody with female reader 👉👈?

I've finally been clearing out some old, old requests, and now that I've fully gotten back into writing regularly, I've reopened my Patreon!

There's nothing on it yet, but there is a tier that allows you to make requests to your heart's content~

Again, it's still kind of experimental, but it'd still mean a whole lot if you checked it out 🖤🖤

That said, I adored writing more for Cody, and I hope you'll enjoy this too~

Requests are closed but commissions are open!

Masterlist: x

“Truth or dare?”

You lean in, a playful grin on your lips as you think through your answer

“Mmh… truth”

The many drinks have started getting to your head, and you feel pleasantly warm and dizzy

And, it’s by no means the first time you’ve had the thought, but being able to look at him so closely like this without the burden of your inhibitions, it really makes you think—damn, he’s not too bad on the eyes

The brunet licks his lips, his gaze flicking down to your own as he does so, before he gazes back up at you with a mischievous spark in his eyes

“Boring” he accuses, flashing his teeth in a boyish smile before tilting his drink back to down a few mouthfuls

You click your tongue with a snicker

“Too bad—it’s my final decision,” you take a sip of your own poison, savoring the bitter sting of alcohol as it burns down your throat

You realize, once you’ve straightened back out, that he’s looking at the way your throat moves when you swallow down the liquid

“Besides,” you add, pretending you don’t notice his staring, “I’m not the one who has anything to prove now, am I?”

He huffs

“What’s that s’posed to mean?”

He toys with his lip piercing between his teeth, and you suddenly wonder about the taste of metal against your tongue

“You’re the new guy—you should be the one worried about making an impression”

Having joined the mansion nearly four months ago by no means made him “new”

But integrating with the creeps was a long process; most didn’t take too kindly to newcomers

And, even considering those who were more welcoming, compared to the decades some spent at the safe-house, a few months was almost a laughable amount of time

Cody wouldn’t be able to shake the title of “new guy” for at least the next year or two—something that, despite his best efforts to cover, you knew bothered him deep down

He huffs again, this time with a roll of his eyes

“Fine, fine,” he rescinds, “be boring if you want to, then”

He downs another mouthful, and this time, it’s your turn to watch the way his Adam’s apple bobs from the motion

You wonder how he’d look with blue and purple marks littering his neck

His eyes meet yours as he finishes the remainder of his drink, and a smirk widens on his lips as he catches you looking

“Alright, I have a question,” he states, like he suddenly just got an idea

“Shoot,” you shrug, trying to look as nonchalant as possible, even despite the way your blood’s warming in your veins

“Where’s the freakiest place you’ve ever fucked?”

The question, admittedly, catches you off-guard

You’re not sure just what, exactly, you expected, but it definitely wasn’t that, of all things

“Hm…” you hum, taking a second to think about your answer, “I guess, like… one time, I did it in a closet at a party”

You can’t help the flash of teeth that escapes your proud smirk at the sight of his reaction

Pretty brown eyes blown wide open in surprise, you wonder if he’d have a similar reaction to you flashing him right about now

“No way. Where—here? At one of the mansion parties?”

You don’t answer directly, but you can tell he knows he hit the mark just by the look on your face

“No way,” he repeats incredulously, “Recently? One of the parties when I was there?!”

“Ah ah,” you tut playfully with a wag of your finger, “You had one question, new guy—now’s my turn to ask”

He opens his mouth, as if to protest or argue, but then decides against it with a forced nonchalant shrug

“By all means, ask away”

You smile—tantalizing, teasing

“Truth or dare?”

Fuck, his eyes are gorgeous

The party lights hit them a certain way, at just the right angle to bring out the depths from within them

And it’s brief, but you swear you catch it all—his desire, his curiosity, his admiration—all in that split second before the angle shifts and the light flickers away

You’re sitting on the floor in the corner of the living room, and it's crowded as all hell, but it feels like it’s just you and him right now

“Hm…” he tilts his head, and your breath catches in your throat when he looks up at you through those long lashes of his

“Dare”

You grin

Something wide and brash and salacious but you’re too excited to hide it

“Dare you to let me touch you”

It’s, admittedly, bold

But you’re tipsy and horny, and it seems like a good enough way to get what you want

Judging by the way he’s been looking at you this whole time, he seems pretty receptive to it, anyways

Your dare surprises him—but he plays it off decently well, all things considered

“Straight to the point, huh?” he laughs

He takes another mouthful of his drink, and you eye him as he does, already mapping out which parts of him you want to lay your hands on first

When he brings his drink back down, he extends his hands either side of himself, bearing himself in a “go ahead” motion

“By all means,” he states

You’re suddenly nervous

You swallow another shot from your drink, relying on that liquid courage to smooth over your worries

And then, deciding it’s now or never, you reach out to him

You touch his chest first, hands pressing to the firmness of his body over his clothes

Compared to some of the other creeps, like Jack and Jeff, he’s definitely leaner, but he—by no means—isn’t muscular

You trace your fingertips down—down, down, down—all the way to his hips until you’re at the hem of his pants

He’s holding his breath

You wonder if you should reach further

And then you think—fuck it

You reach down and press against his groin

He’s hard

It shouldn’t come as a surprise, considering all of the heavy-handed back-and-forth up until this point

But you didn’t expect him to be this hard

You can feel him twitch up into your touch as you press against his crotch

He releases something like a quiet, shuddered breath

And when you look up, you find that he’s leaning his hips forward, but his head is tilted up in a barely concealed silent moan

He bites at his lip to keep himself from making any sound, like the minor sting from the bite could distract him

You run your hand up and down his length—once, twice, barely a third time before reluctantly pulling away

Only once you’re no longer palming him through his jeans do you wonder if anyone noticed

Was that obvious?

His gaze falls back onto you again—deep, heavily-lidded eyes that compliment his shallow breathing

And then he swallows back whatever was on the tip of his tongue, whatever he was just about to say, and asks instead

“Truth or dare?”

His voice is breathy, almost shaky, and you relish the sound

“Truth”

A look of what could almost be considered betrayal flashes over his face, and you have to hold back a laugh at the sight of it

He wants more—that much is obvious

But you want to keep this little game going, want to keep the odds in your favor

You want to see how far you can push him

How much you can wind him up before he snaps

“How badly do you want me to fuck you right now?”

It’s your turn to be surprised

You swallow, your throat tightening and your stomach coiling with a pit of warmth

“Badly,” you answer honestly, before you can even consider lying

Your voice is almost a whisper through the desire constricting your vocal cords

“Truth or dare?”

You don’t waste time returning the question

“Dare”

“I dare you to touch me”

Something flickers in his eyes

It’s that look of I thought you’d never ask

He reaches for your thighs first, lingering the pads of his fingers at the hem of your skirt

You lean back on your hands to subtly tilt your pelvis in his direction

And when his fingers graze along the patch of skin right beneath your skirt, you’re almost disappointed thinking he won’t go any further

But then he pushes up, tracing along your inner thigh, and just through that mere touch alone, your stomach flips in excitement

Your body’s aching for him

As soon as he presses against your slit over your underwear, you have to hold back a shudder

The muscles in your abdomen tense

He huffs out a breath to mask his groan as he feels your arousal even through your underwear

“Naughty girl,” he murmurs

He rubs lazy circles with his thumb, gazing at you through heavy lids like he’s gauging your every reaction

Your breath is heavy, chest rising and falling with the effort it takes not to moan

You want him—you want him so, so fucking badly

You know it’s probably just the booze talking, but at this point, you don’t even care if anyone notices

Still, for the sake of your own reputation, you try to stay as still as possible

You try not to move or sway or grind yourself down on his hand, even as he presses just slightly harder, and even as it starts to feel like a pressure’s building in your core

It’s agonizing

You let him toy with you to his heart’s content, until every stroke up and down your slit is sending waves of heat up your system

Stay still, don’t move, don’t make a sound

You try to repeat the words like a mantra in your head, but the alcohol is making everything feel dull and fuzzy, and even without meaning to, your hips buckle and your thighs tense from his touch

“Truth or dare?”

His voice is low and gravelly when he asks the question

Dark eyes pierce right through yours, laced with hunger and impatience

You flush—the intensity of the eye contact while he continues his ministrations making you feel so, so weak for him

“Dare”

You don’t know why now—of all times—you pick dare

But you do know that as soon as the answer escapes you, you pray his dare will be filthy

“I dare you to let me make you cum”

It’s as if the gods of sex and intoxication heard your prayers

His response has your stomach clenching already in anticipation of your climax

You don’t trust your voice, so you merely nod and bite back whatever sound’s threatening to escape your lips

Your answer’s all the confirmation he needs

He pushes your underwear to the side, and as soon as his bare skin meets yours, your walls try to squeeze around something that isn’t there

He takes in a sharp breath through his nose as he feels the sheer amount of slick coating his fingers

Up and down, he leisurely gathers your arousal—almost as if to see just how much you can possibly produce

And fuck—the wait for him to finally finger-fuck you is driving you insane

You’re on the verge of making some impatient comment, when, as if sensing your agitation, he finally sinks two fingers into your folds

It punches the air out of your lungs in some undignified whimper

With all of his attention focused solely on you—on your expression, on your body’s reaction—it feels like you’re at the center of his world

When he curls his fingers up and drags his touch against that certain spot inside of you, you consider it somewhat of a miracle you manage to stay quiet

In and out, in and out, he repeatedly brushes right against your most sensitive spot, and it feels like your body’s burning with need

You’re certain it must be obvious by now—between the jerking motion of his hand beneath your skirt and your inability to remain still, how could anyone not know what’s going on?

Your only hope is that the lights are dim and it’s crowded, and you’re huddled together in a corner on the floor

So maybe—maybe it’s not that bad

It’s all you can tell yourself to try to convince yourself this is fine

Because at this point, even if you did get called out, you’re not sure you’d want him to stop

You squirm, your body tensing and fluttering around him, and it’s like the more you try to remain in control, the less you can stifle your faint little whines and whimpers

You’ve no choice but to sink your teeth into your bottom lip to force yourself to keep it shut

“Fuck, atta girl~”

Even in the dim lighting, you don’t fail to notice the way he subtly shifts to readjust his dick in his pants

You’re about to make some teasing comment about it—because even though he has his hand between your legs and you’re just about drunk on the cusp of your orgasm, you don’t want him to realize how much control he has over you

But then he jerks his fingers harder into you and your head rolls back and every fibre of your being tenses

“C’mon baby, cum for me. Be a good girl and cum around my fingers—“

His low, husky commands have you teetering on the precipice of your climax

You try to stave it back—try to remain in control of your own body—but the more you hold it off, the more the pressure builds

You bring a hand up to your mouth, brows knitting in bliss if not for the worry about being way too loud lacing your features

And then he murmurs out some other filthy nothings, and his thumb reaches up to jerk your clit harder—and you just can’t help it anymore

In the middle of a party, out in the open, you cum—hard

The music and indistinct chatter is the only thing stopping everyone from hearing your slew of muffled cries

Your cunt clenches and spasms around his digits, and it only encourages him to keep pumping them inside you until you’re squeezing your legs shut to make him stop

Panting and shaking, you watch as he pulls his fingers free, which glisten in the LED lights with your arousal, and pop them between his lips

He looks beyond ravenous for more as he savors your taste

And even though you’ve just cum, it has yet another wave of thrill rushing down your spine

“Truth or dare?” you ask again, your breaths low and shallow

A glimmer of curiosity sparks in his eyes, as though he didn’t expect you to want to keep playing

“Dare,” he answers

You don’t hesitate as you give your response

“I dare you to come to my room tonight”

#creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #x virus #x virus x reader #creepypasta x reader smut #x virus x reader smut

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aetlasx · 2 months ago

Text

prologue

pair: eddie munson x witch!reader

summary: Ah, memories. You journal your first day of high school, but things quickly take a turn just a few weeks later.

tw: menstruation, pad/tampons, bullying, name calling (pls lmk if there’s anything I missed)

a/n: just stick with me lol. he’ll be in the first part. Also, this is an AU!! For spooky season!! thank you so much for reading!!

*the chat font is the diary entry and it goes back to normal at the end*

August 22nd, 1983 It's been a few months since i've written in this thing. I thought it'd be a good time to start now since I finally made it to high school!

You know what that means? Four more years till I leave this shithole!! Better than five. June was actually waiting by the door when I got home, she really wanted to hear every detail of how it went. I told her about my classes, I have Jonathan in two and Nancy in several. I told her how the school and people were so different from anything I was used to. But, it doesn't take her long to find something wrong with the way I think. She started with her usual warnings and advice, all the things I need to avoid, all the mistakes I shouldn't make. I know she's just trying to protect me, but it feels like she can never have trust in her little sister.

On the other hand, at least Teddy asked if I had fun. He's always been the one who knows how to lighten the mood, especially knowing how his wife is. He asked about my teachers and any clubs that looked cool enough to join. He even asked about Jonathan and Nancy.

Jonathan was definitely not as excited as me. He's quite, but he's always been that way.I know that his mom was excited for his first day of high school, she even convinced him to bring his camera. Right now, I'm trying to convince him to join the newspaper but he just shrugs me off. And Nancy, well, although it's been one–girl is practically glow. Within just 8 hours of the school day, she was able to meet a boy. She kept gushing about him and is pretty excited for the rest of the school year here. I'm genuinely happy for her.

Before June could add her two cents, I interrupted her with how I stopped by Aunt Claudia's after school to see how Dustin's day went. He was already sprawled out on the couch, 'exhausted' from fighting with his new math teacher. It had been a bit since I had seen them, I slaved away my summer at my job so stopping by, I felt grateful that they weren't even mad. I'll have to start hanging out with him again.

Anyways, I’m determined to make the most of freshman year with my friends. I’m ready to prove that I’m more than just a product of this stupid town.

Wish me luck!!

September 16th, 1983

I think I lied. I don’t know where to start…but a four year wait is too long. I don’t know where it all went wrong but it started over the weekend.

Sometimes I’d like to think that if my mom was still around, this wouldn’t have happened. Hell, June is like my mom, why did it happen. I’m talking about mother nature’s gift. It seemed as though no on thought to inform me that a girls first period would be this chaotic.

Nance and I had a movie night planned. I hadn’t really talked to her much, only in class, because her new boy toy or whatever—Steve Harrington, was taking up most of her time. I thought this would be a good time to just catch up and gossip, I was wrong. That Friday was horrible. I ended up throwing up, getting the chills, my body ached to no end. But I was still determined to make movie night happen, especially since June and Teddy were gone for the weekend.

As I was dying on the couch, Nancy finally showed up. But to my disappointment, it was only to cancel. Her and Steve were going out on their first date. I don’t know if it was how hot I was feeling or my intestines twisting, but black spots started clouding my vision. I just remember her screaming for Steve and once I knew it, I woke up in the hospital.

What I’m about to write, I’ll say with confidentiality…probably because I’m the only one reading this. Whatever.

A period is probably normal for all females. What’s not normal is having to go to the hospital and having your best friend’s boyfriend make fun of you because the doctor called you a late bloomer. I mean, she apologized but, if I could’ve just died on that bed, I wouldn’t be here.

Even June lectured me when I interrupted her weekend getaway. The whole ride home she kept complaining and saying ‘how could I not know’ and ‘you just gave us another unnecessary bill’. Like, sorry my baby’s natural response has ruined something for you.

Fuck. That’s not even the worst part. When Monday came back around, everyone was looking at me when I walked in. I know how cliche it sounds after what had just happened but knowing how popular Harrington was and who his friends were, he had already told the whole school by now. During gym, Carol and a few other girls threw pads and tampons at me. I got called ‘Bloody Mary’ and ‘Leak Freak’ in the hallways, at lunch, and anytime anyone had the chance. I tried to stay strong, I even hoped Nancy would say something to me during class or at least when she saw me but she just looked at me with sympathetic eyes. It’s just hard to believe that a few weeks ago, everything was fine. We were making fun of our teacher, gossiping with Barb, and even went shopping but I guess things change. Now when I look at her I’m just consumed with rage.

Jonathan has been supportive, though. The evening I got out of the hospital, he had actually brought over some of my favorite snacks and listened to me cry all night. Even when the mocking was bad, he’s stuck by my side. He’s told some kids to fuck off, walks me to class, and I’m grateful, don’t get me wrong but knowing that I have to wake up and go through it again doesn’t really ease my pain.

I feel like my chances of making friends and actually joining some clubs are ruined. When I try talking to some new, they give me dirty looks. When I go to ask about different clubs, they turn me away. I’ve lost hope. Thought this was suppose to be a fresh start but I guess not.

And just to add more salt to the wound, I haven’t been able to sleep. Every time I close my eyes and drift to away, I’m met with such an unsettling environment. The atmosphere is thick, groggy, red. It’s coated in fog, but a man I’ve never seen before always walks through it. He says his name is Henry, he starts talking about my worries and pain. It’s always the same—he says he’s ‘there to help me’, he’s there to ‘take away the pain because he knows what it’s like’. I truly don’t know what has caused my subconscious to create things like this but I guess I’m just tired of feeling like shit.

I don’t even know why I bother keeping a journal around. Sometimes I feel like I won’t even be here in the future to reminisce on the shitty days like this. Why would I even? I guess it’s just easier to write these things down than having to say them out loud. I thought I’d be able to make my sister, aunt, cousin, and friends proud, but I’m starting to think I’m just not cut out for this.

Closing the diary, the blonde places it back in the shoebox you hid it in. Pushing it back under your bed, standing from the place he sat. A satisfied smirk on his face.

He’d been following your turmoil closely, knowing that this was just the turning point. Your struggles were feeding into his plans. This entry was straw that broke the camels back—your vulnerabilities, your fears, and your desperations. It was almost too easy.

“Your suffering is almost poetic,” Henry said to himself, walking out of your room, your house, determined to take action now. He planned to finally confront you, to force you to acknowledge the full extent of what your destiny could be with his help—with what he had to offer.

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie stranger things #witch!reader #witch!au #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson x you

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esvvel · 1 month ago

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one year, two months and four days

Lila

It feels like I'm going crazy. The platforms are blurring into each other in my mind, I can't remember how many of them I've seen already, I can't navigate my memories anymore. Five is still trying to rely on the map, but I don't think it makes any sense since we've been coming back to the same stations over and over again a few times; or maybe they were different and I just didn't notice… I found this weird (as if anything in this shithole could be normal) old-fashioned radio. It only gets one station with only one song playing 24/7 and it only works if you hang it right under the ceiling. But it is the best thing in this purgatory. It plays music, FUCKING REAL MUSIC. If Five is right, it's been at least a year since we got lost. And since then, it is the first time I can listen to something other than his boring lectures on the art of apocalypse survival or the subway announcements delivered by that hellish robotic voice in an encrypted language; sometimes I'm not sure which pisses me off more.

one year, two months and five days

Lila

Spent the whole night listening to this song, it made me think of Gracie and the twins. Looked like even this old man was glad to find something that reminded him of a real, normal life. We had to move on and leave the radio behind. If we see it again we'll realize we are going in circles, and anyway I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t work in any other timeline. We danced. Like that time at Luther’s wedding. Didn’t expect Five to be able to do that sober actually, which makes me think I’m not the only one going bananas here. I don’t know why I did it, why I keep pretending that things aren’t as bad as they are. I know Five’s right, fuck he’s right most of the time. But I can’t just admit that we’re stuck, that we’re completely lost, that I’ve come a lot further than I thought, that it’s all my fault. He’s never directly blamed me for any of it, but we both know the truth. And I can feel that we’re almost home, we’re so close.

It has to be that way.

okay there are a lot of words 😭 i've never written anything like this before so i hope this isn't too bad lol, i just wanted to give these sketches more context and yes they are highly inspired by harry and hermione's dance scene in deathly hallows (i love that scene so much). you can think of it as Lila's internal monologue or maybe she has some kind of journal(?) where she writes her thoughts while being in the subway to keep track of events. i have a LOT of headcanons and ideas for more fivelila sketches like this so maybe i'll make a series out of this if you're interested!!

#fivelila #five x lila #fivela #five hargreeves #lila pitts #the umbrella academy #tua s4 #lila x five #Spotify

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harrygoeswest · 1 year ago

Text

Harry Styles is your sworn enemy. You've decided to take a holiday in the Scottish Highlands, and so has he. And there's only one bed…

~~~

A/N: Hiiiiii! I think I announced this like 3 months ago and never finished it, but we're finally here! I actually really fucking love this story. I've never done this 'one bed' trope before, nor an enemies-to-lovers OU, because EVERYONE loves H man, right? Well, not this YN. And he's not too fond of her either. I'm really excited to share it with you. Again, what started as a one shot grew into a two-parter because I simply cannot contain myself when the ball starts rolling. Anyhoo, to my forever friend @all-things-fic, thank you as always for reading this through and making me snort at your comments and being the ultimate validator <3

Word Count: 13,261 Trigger Warnings: Swearing (obvs), vomiting, bed-sharing with a sexy man

~~~

Rain. Persistent, unabated, never-ending, relentless rain. It was all you’d heard and seen all day and you were sick of it. You’d never really minded it until today, but thanks to one shit-show after another, you were ready to relinquish it. You wanted it gone. Your summer holiday was already off to a bad start.

“Bad day?”

Where to begin?

A cabin in the Scottish Highlands had sounded like the perfect escape for a four-week break away from the city. You had work to do, deadlines to meet, but at least you could do it without being interrupted. Without the sounds of pedestrians and car horns and wayward seagulls and bike bells. Yep, the Highlands still sounded perfect, but the endless string of catastrophes made you wonder if it really was perfect or rather just a ridiculous indulgence.

No. You deserved this break. Bad day or not, the holiday was needed.

When your brother had told you a year ago that he’d bought a holiday home in the Highlands you hadn’t exactly been surprised. He and his wife had been talking about it for years, and he’d finally earned enough money through his music career to be able to do it. Sadly, with your own deadlines and packed schedule, this was the first time in said year you’d been able to find time to go.

Apparently the all-knowing entity in your life had other plans.

You were supposed to come by plane first thing this morning, but your car had broken down on the way to the airport and you spent 3 hours waiting for the AA to rescue you. You had then managed to rearrange your flight to a later one, but because of the weather, all other flights out of Bristol had been cancelled for the day. You then spent a ridiculous amount of money on a 10 hour train from Bristol to Inverness with a change at Edinburgh in between, and were now forking out on a taxi to take you the rest of the way.

At that particular point in time, a cabin in the middle of nowhere seemed like a dreadful fucking idea.

“Could say that.” You managed weakly.

The driver chuckled to himself and you tried not to squeal. “Nearly there now. Fifteen minutes or so.”

There is a God!

Forty-five minutes later he finally stopped in the middle of a single track road. Your eyelid had been twitching for half that time, and a headache was forming in your left temple.

He turned over his shoulder and flashed a grin. He was missing an incisor and three of his other teeth were gold. “This is as far as I can get you. Cabin is at the top of that hill.”

You gave him a look, then peered out the window. All you could see was rain and mud and a black night. “What hill?”

“You’ll find it. Fare is sixty.”

“Sixty quid?”

He nodded. “Scottish if you’ve got ‘em. I’m a collector.”

“We agreed on forty. And no, I don’t have any bloody Scottish notes.” A Scottish man collecting Scottish money! On what planet?!

“No, sixty.”

You muttered expletives under your breath and shoved the money at him over his shoulder.

“Y’alright gettin’ your own case, love? Don’t really want t’ get wet.”

“Un-fucking-believable.”

In the shittiest, snappiest manner you could muster, you got out of the car and retrieved your luggage from the boot, slamming every door you touched. The driver immediately pulled off once the boot was closed, pipping his horn.

“Wanker!” You yelled after him.

Finding your bearings, you located the ‘hill’ he’d been talking about, forcing down your frustration at the size of the damn thing as you started up the pathway. You dragged your suitcase behind you through the mud, grateful it had a hard and waterproof plastic exterior. At least after all this you’d be able to take a shower and change into clean clothes.

It took you an embarrassing amount of time to reach the cabin, thanks to not only the rain but also the brutal wind. When you finally reached the porch you fell onto it, greeted by the most intense relief you’d ever felt. You took a minute to recover from your exercise, and then fumbled around on the dark porch for the stone your brother had left the key under.

“Aha.” Delighted when you found it, you pulled the key out of the rock and shoved it in the door, unlocking it.

Heat floated over your body, as did warm, homey light. Weird. Why were the lights on?

Then did your eyes land on the thing that was most definitely out of place.

A loud, shrill scream ripped from your body.

A man was in the cabin. A naked man. Mostly. The only thing saving him and you was the towel wrapped around his waist. Shiny back, muscly arms, damp neck, wet hair. At the sound of your wail he turned around, equally as alarmed.

“What the-?”

In his panic, the grip he had on his towel slipped, and you were given more of an eyeful than you ever bargained for.

You screamed again and reached for the closest thing to you, then lurched it across the room at him. Then your brain caught up with you, and you pulled the door closed again, separating you from him. You were back outside in the cold.

That man wasn’t just anyone. He’d never been just anyone. He was your sister-in-law’s friend. He was your brother’s boss, to a degree. He was your worst fucking nightmare rolled into physical human form.

He was Harry fucking Styles.

This was officially the worst day of your life.

“No, no, no, no, no.” You repeated, over and over again as you paced the porch, head in your hands. You knocked into your suitcase multiple times and it ended up falling down the porch steps into a muddy puddle. You tripped over a loose piece of decking at least twice. You caught your hip on the porch bannister, too. But none of it registered with you while your brain cycled between images of Harry’s naked back and his large appendage.

How could this be happening? What had you done to deserve such a catastrophic start to your holiday? You couldn’t stay here. Not with that man. That man that you hated, and who hated you in return. This was a disaster.

You dug your phone out of your sopping handbag. No signal.

“Oh, come on.” You hissed.

Stubborn as always, you tried to call your brother anyway. Repeatedly. Twenty times, at least, each one failing to connect. You couldn’t even leave a voicemail. You raised the phone to the sky like it was baby Simba. Still nothing.

“Fuck!”

The door swung open, and Harry said your name in a low grunt.

You swivelled, glare like a dagger. “You. Why the fuck are you here?”

“Why am I here?” He scoffed. He was clothed now, in a t-shirt and jogging bottoms. “Why are you here?”

“This is my brother’s cabin! I have a key! He said I could stay here!”

“Well, guess what?” He leaned forward, arms crossed. “Holly said I could stay here, too.”

You wanted to throw your phone at his stupid face. “Fucking great.”

“There’s obviously been some misunderstanding.” He straightened.

“You don’t say…”

His gaze narrowed. “You’re impossible.”

“At least I’m not the one who’s stupid enough to state the obvious.”

You turned away again and tried your brother one more time. The beep beep beep that told you the call had failed yet again had your stomach in knots.

“There’s no phone signal here.”

“Yes, thank you. Just go back inside.”

“No.”

“For the love of Christ, why not?”

“I’d rather see what you’re going to do with yourself.”

You turned another glare on him. “Oh, I’m so glad that the shitty situation I’ve found myself in is entertaining you, Harry. Please, mock me some more. The resulting anger might actually take the chill out of my fucking toes.”

He looked like he was about to open his mouth, but you didn’t let him.

“You know, this really has been the day from hell. It’s been a categorical disaster from start to finish, and finally getting myself here only to find you, of all people, really is the cherry on top of my whopping slice of shit pie. So please, do me this one favour, and sod off back inside.”

His jaw ticked, and he emitted a low growl before he slammed the door of the cabin and left you in the cold, wet night.

A sob wracked through you, and you flopped down on the top step just to let your body deflate for five minutes. It was so cold you were shivering. Your clothes clung to your body like sheets of ice, your lips were cracked, and a bite ate away at your toes.

You knew you couldn’t do much tonight. You’d have to wait until tomorrow, for when the storm hopefully passed, and you could call your brother to give him a gobful and then walk into the village to find a B&B or cheap hotel. You hadn’t forgotten that your train ticket was a set day return for four weeks’ time. You’d just have to wait until Harry was gone before you took your time to enjoy the cabin like you’d planned.

When you finally calmed down you dragged your suitcase out of the mud and dropped it on the driest part of the deck. You dug around for the jumper you’d brought with you and pulled it over your frozen torso. You also took your shoes and socks off and put two clean pairs on. Once you were wrapped back up in your coat, you settled on the armchair that was the least wet and tried to go to sleep.

After five minutes or so, the cabin door creaked open again.

“Come inside, please.” Harry’s voice was void of any emotion.

“No.”

“You’ll get sick if you stay out here.”

“Rather that than share a bed with you.”

“And you think I want to share a bed with you, either?”

“Then we’re both on the same page. I’m fine out here.”

“You are not fuckin’ fine out here. It’s shitting it down, for fuck’s sake, you could get a flu. Or worse.”

You hadn’t opened your eyes so you had no idea what his facial expression read. “I’m surprised you give a shit enough to care.”

“I don’t particularly, but I like your brother and I don’t want him thinking I didn’t at least try to get you to be sensible when it’s fucking biblical outside.”

“I’ll pass.”

Harry took a deep breath, and he muttered, “Bloody insufferable woman,” before he slammed the door again.

You snuggled further into the chair, shoving your hands under your face. You thought that would be the end of it, but no more than thirty seconds later the door swung back open. You pretended to ignore him, expecting a verbal taunt. Instead, all you got was scuffing noises.

Pushing down the urge to growl like he did at you, you squeezed your eyes shut and faked indifference at his huffy grunting. Until he dragged you out of the chair and hauled you into the cabin in three easy movements.

“What are you doing?” You demanded, scowling at him as he locked the door behind you.

“You can be as stubborn and petty as you like about this, but you are not staying outside in the rain. End of story.”

“I was fine!”

“You were not fine.” He folded his arms again. “Look at you, for fuck’s sake. You’re about five seconds away from catching hypothermia. You think I want that on my hands? You, of all people, needing my attention every day for the next five weeks? I don’t, by the way. I came here for a holiday, too.”

“I didn’t bring myself here to be a God damn burden to you, Harry. Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Why don’t you go and get in the shower, and maybe you’ll calm the fuck down.”

You inched closer to him. “Oh, I’m sure you’d love that. Me, following your orders like some sycophant.”

He took a step closer to me. “I would, actually. It might make you somewhat tolerable.”

“Get fucked, Harry.”

“Sounds like you need that more than I do.”

You produced a noise somewhere between a grunt and a squeal, and shoved at his chest once before you stalked away. “Prick.”

He hummed, entertained. “Try not to think about mine while you’re in there. I’m sure the sight of it has left you with enough to be desired.”

Too tired to argue with him anymore, you threw your middle finger at him over your shoulder.

Whether you’d been forced inside against your will or not, you really did want a shower before a permanent chill settled over you. You turned the water on and let it run hot. The second it swilled over your body you let out a helpless moan.

You stood stoic underneath it for an indeterminate amount of time, just willing your body to warm up. The day washed away from you, worries temporarily forgotten while you soaked up as much heat as you could. Oh, it was glorious. A shower had never been so rewarding.

After a while you realised you didn’t have any of your shower stuff with you, still locked in your suitcase, and you let out a huff. You surveyed what Harry had brought with him and spent too long debating whether it was socially acceptable to wash using your mortal enemy’s shower gel. You decided against it and would properly wash in the morning.

Taking another ten minutes, you decided you were ready to face Harry again and whatever bollocks he might throw your way. You found a towel and gave your hair a dry, then wrapped it around your body. You hadn’t thought this through in your desperation to get away from him.

You stepped out of the room with purpose and marched over to where Harry had abandoned your suitcase after dragging it inside earlier, and carefully picked your way through it to find your pyjamas and toothbrush. Without giving the man even the slightest glance, you locked yourself back up in the bathroom to change and clean your teeth.

“Forget your clothes?” Harry asked at your second reappearance.

“Why ask a question you already know the answer to?” You gave a roll of your eyes.

He sat straighter in the armchair he was settled into, “Why answer a question with another question?”

You ignored him. Instead you gave yourself the opportunity to actually take in your brother’s second home. You realised it was tiny. Like Tiny Home tiny. When he said he’d bought a cabin you thought he meant something like a chalet. But no, this was small. A kitchenette had been built into the right-hand wall by the front door with a fridge, a two-plate hob and a stainless steel sink. Two armchairs sat either side of a small birch table, and a double bed at the back of the room with a cherrywood wardrobe. A woven rug gave the space a homey feel, balancing the bare oak that gave foundation for the rest of the place.

A sinking feeling buried in you when you realised there wasn’t a sofa.

You rubbed a hand into your cheek, feeling slightly cheated by your brother and his wife.

“You look like you’re about to pass out.” Harry said into the quiet, all malice and jest lost.

“I feel like it.” You admitted, turning your stare on the bed. “I’m just tired.”

He cleared his throat and stood. “I sleep on the left.”

You refrained from giving him another eye roll and instead focussed on settling down. You left your phone on the dining table, plugged in to charge overnight, poured a glass of water which you drank in one long swig, and then returned to the bed.

“What are you doing?”

Harry had settled on the left side of the bed but with his head at the foot and his feet at the top. If he slept on the left, did that not completely defeat the purpose of his claim?

“Top and tail.”

“Yeah, no. Absolutely not.” You shook your head.

“Why not?”

“I am not giving you the opportunity to stick your foot in my face at any given point in the night.”

He kissed his teeth and sat up with a scowl. “Woman, you have got some major fuckin’ trust issues.”

“With you I do, absolutely.”

You waited until he was in bed the right way up before you slipped in yourself and turned the light off. The room was cast in darkness and your eyes struggled to adjust. You faced away from Harry on your side, wriggling to find a comfortable position, and you could hear him doing the same.

His foot was definitely on your side of the bed so you kicked it away. He then tried to take the covers off you, but you were quick to snatch them back. He let out a deep sigh.

“Can I have some of the quilt, please?”

“You’ve got some.”

“I have none.”

“Bullshit.”

He ripped the covers away again, and you fought the urge to squeal.

“Give some back.”

“You have some.” He said in the same tone you had.

“Harry.”

“What?”

“I’m cold.”

“You’ve just spent an hour using up all the hot water so I refuse to believe that.”

“What is your problem?”

“You are.”

You grit your teeth. Folding your arms, you scooted as close to the edge of the bed as possible without falling off. Arguing with him was fruitless, it just left you angry and wired.

Tomorrow, you resolved to find somewhere, anywhere else to stay. For now, you’d try to sleep uncomfortable and coverless.

Had you slept?

No.

For hours you’d imprisoned yourself on the edge of the bed, cold and coverless, hugging yourself in an attempt to keep warm, and squeezing your eyes closed just praying that sleep would come. But it never did. You’d think after the day you had yesterday it would be easy to just drop off. Why would it be that simple for you?

You knew it was light outside now thanks to the inside of your eyelids. You decided then to give up. Sleep wasn��t coming.

As you opened your eyes you realised how close to the edge of the bed you were. At the same time, Harry wriggled again, further onto your side of the mattress, and his knee nudged your backside.

Oh no.

Struggling to find anything to hold onto, your body tumbled over the edge. A panicked yelp tore out of you, followed by a grunt and a thud when you hit the floor.

“Ow.” You whimpered. You’d fallen on your front, knee and toe first followed by your head. You rolled onto your back and held onto your forehead as if it might stop the pounding you felt.

Laughter started, and your eyes flew open to find Harry hovering over the side of the bed, green eyes shining. You were, actually, somewhat offended by how entertained he was. If it was acceptable to hit people, you’d be hitting him.

“You alright down there?”

“No I’m not fucking alright, Harry.”

Your own anger made the throbbing in your head worse so you stayed on your back.

“Alright, was only a question.”

“This is your bloody fault - you’re a bed hogger!”

“Yeah? Well you snore!”

“Considering I didn’t get a single second of sleep last night I don’t know how you’ve landed on that conclusion, and I can only assume you’ve made it up to piss me off.”

“You were snoring.” He said in a flat voice.

“No I wasn’t.”

The throbbing got worse again, so you squeezed your eyes shut and took a deep breath. Then another.

“You’ve hit your head.”

If the thought of rolling your eyes didn’t make you nauseous you’d absolutely do it. “If there was an award for Best Observationist, you’d win it.”

“Do you need ice or something?”

His voice had changed and it somewhat startled you. You peeled an eye open again to find he hadn’t moved - he was still hanging over the bed. His expression, however, was neutral.

“Yes. Please.”

He gave a curt nod and then disappeared. You closed your eyes again, willing the throbbing away.

“There isn’t any ice.”

You refrained from screaming, knowing it wouldn’t do you any good. “Okay.”

“Here,” his voice was much closer, and he gave a little pat to your knee, “this might help.”

Peeling an eye open, he flashed a couple of boxes of painkillers. “Panadol.” Of course the man had branded paracetamol. The 95p boxes of Sainsbury’s own shoved in your kitchen cupboard looked shameful right about now.

“Extra strength. And that rapid relief ibuprofen.”

“You brought painkillers with you on holiday?”

He shrugged. “I’m here for a long time. Hangovers need encouragement to get fucked.”

You raised a sceptic brow. “And here I thought some magical mystery Nutri-Bullet recipe would be your saviour.”

“Funny.” He muttered.

Huh. How unlike him not to shove a witty rebuttal at you.

“Do you need help getting up or are you just gonna sit on the floor all day?”

Your scowl returned. “I’m fine.”

On shaky legs and with a fuzzy head, you grabbed the side of the bed and hauled yourself up. You weren’t sure if the sudden ringing in your ears was something you should be worried about, but you persisted.

Once sat, Harry handed you the tablet boxes and fetched a glass of water for you while you thumbed out two of each.

“Thank you.” You mumbled.

“Please and thank you in the space of ten minutes?” He goaded. “Sounds like you’ve got a concussion.”

“My parents didn’t raise me in a barn.”

He stood with his broad arms folded across his chest while he watched you swallow down four tablets, face a mishmash of irritation and something else. You refused to believe it was concern so you attributed it to frustration. You were just ruining his holiday the same way he was ruining yours.

You decided to finish the water, and then Harry took the boxes and the glass from you. You laid back down, shielding the room and your eyes with your arms.

“Sure you don’t need a hospital?” His voice was far away.

“Yes. I just need to close my eyes for a bit. I’ll be fine.”

He didn’t answer, and you were thankful. Any more talking and your head might have exploded.

You’d fallen asleep. While you hadn’t intended to, you couldn’t help but be grateful for the respite. There was no way you would’ve been able to do anything on zero hours sleep, so a few was better than nothing.

You sat up, noticing that you’d corrected yourself direction-wise on the bed and pulled the covers over you. You must’ve done it subconsciously.

The cabin was quiet. Almost eerily so. There was no sign of Harry anywhere. The only sign that he’d been there at all was his own suitcase tucked away in the corner. No sound came from the bathroom, and all you could hear outside was birds.

Birds. Not rain.

You scrambled out of bed towards the front door and hauled it open, but it was locked. Harry had locked you in. You found the key your brother had left for you on the table and put it to use.

It was glorious outside. Not a cloud in the sky, blue everywhere, green even more so. And it was warm. Summer dress warm. Your feet itched to go outside, but you knew you needed to take it easy. The headache hadn’t completely subsided, but it was tolerable. Barely there. A shower and some food would fix it.

You closed the door and locked it again, determined to start your day. Steadily.

You were about to head straight for the shower when you noticed it. A brown paper bag trapped under a pretty mug, and a jar of instant coffee wedged inside it. The mug lived here - you recognised it from Holly’s old flat. But the greasy brown bag did not. You noticed the letters GF scrawled on the front.

He remembered.

Warning bells started screaming inside your head as you plucked the bag out and opened it up. The smell of cooled buttery pastry wafted from inside, and you pulled out the biggest croissant you’d ever seen.

The message was clear as day. Eat and get some caffeine in you.

This was bad. Angry Harry you could deal with any day of the week at any time of day. You could even cope with jester Harry, because you gave just as good as you got. But this? Base-level concern? It threw you for a loop.

Regardless, you were starving. So you boiled the kettle and made your coffee just how you like it as you tore off pieces of pastry and gobbled it down. While you waited for your coffee to cool once your croissant was demolished, you took a quick shower.

Half an hour later you were out the door and feeling a hell of a lot better than you had done for weeks. You wandered down into the village, the sun a glowing comfort on your bare skin.

You had a mission today: alternative accommodation.

You kept an eye on your phone for patches of signal, and called your brother whenever you found some. He never answered. Part of you wondered if he was ignoring you, and if that was the case you were going to have a very big problem. He only ignored you if he was avoiding you.

And that wasn’t even your biggest problem.

“I’m sorry, we’re full.” The receptionist at the final B&B said with barely an ounce of emotion.

“The sign outside said you had vacancies.”

“I just sold the last one over the phone. Haven’t had time to change it.” She gave me a smile that didn’t touch her eyes.

You fought a petulant sigh. “Do you know where else I can stay? I’ve tried every B&B here and no one has any vacancies.”

“Why don’t you try an AirBnB.” She suggested with a tone dripping in sarcasm. “You young people seem to love those.”

Ah, so this was a territorial issue. You gave her a flat glare and left without another word.

Yet again, you found yourself in a rut. Your good mood had been successfully wiped away. Maybe you would check AirBnB, but the thought of spending another obscene amount on accommodation filled you with a sickly feeling.

Your phone started ringing, much to your surprise. Holly. “Is my brother ignoring me?”

“I don’t know, but if he was, he probably wouldn’t tell me.” She laughed, always a fan of your no-nonsense approach. “I thought I’d call since I haven’t heard from you. Did you make it there alive?”

“Alive is not the word I’d use to describe my current state. It’s also impossible to call someone when the phone signal is worse than a World War II air raid shelter.”

Holly cackled. “You’re such a nerd. What’s wrong?”

“Either you’re playing dumb to avoid my wrath or you’re very stupid.”

She gasped your name but she was most definitely entertained. “What do you mean?”

“Harry is here. Using your holiday home.”

An extended period of silence followed, completed with a breathy, “Oh… shit.”

Oh shit, indeed.

“Well,” she seemed to shake herself, “it can’t be that bad.”

This one was truly off her rocker. “Can’t be that bad? Holly, how many times have you been in a room with me and Harry at the same time?”

“Plenty.”

“Exactly. How many times have we had a fight whilst in said same room together?”

“Almost always.”

“Not almost always, just always. We. Do. Not. Get. On.”

“Oh, babe, I think you’re being a bit dramatic.”

“There’s only one fucking bed!”

Holly went quiet for a minute, and you realised you’d earned the attention of a few passers by. You sat down on a nearby bench, wary of the throb in your head getting worse.

“Are you okay?” She finally asked.

That set you off. You launched into your shitty day from yesterday, from the car breakdown to the taxi driver to hitting your head this morning. Words without breath had never left you so fast and the feeling you were rewarded with after was less than satisfactory. Deflation. Sadness.

“Oh, hun, I’m sorry. I didn’t know he was going.” You were certain she was lying about that last sentence but you didn’t interrupt her. “I’ll get in touch with Harry and tell him to rein it in.”

“I don’t need you to curb the man on my behalf, Hol. I can handle him myself. I just… I really wish he wasn’t here.”

“Do you want me to make him leave?”

A rare sight of guilt crept its way into the centre of your stomach. You battled the urge to say yes, because you knew if Holly asked him to, he would absolutely go. “No… hardly fair. He was here first.”

“Yeah but I bet you would’ve been if all those things didn’t go wrong yesterday.”

You grunted. You were supposed to arrive just before 9am yesterday morning, not close to 11pm. “Don’t make him leave. I’m a bitch but I’m not a complete cunt.”

“You’re not either of those things by any stretch. My friend just happens to know how to really rattle your cage.”

Ain’t that the truth. “I’m trying to find a B&B or something but they’re all full.”

“Oh, please don’t spend more money.”

“I can’t stay in your cabin, Hol. I didn’t sleep last night and that man does not know how to share a queen bed.”

“It’s actually a three-quarter bed.”

“Fuck off.” You groaned.

“Look, we wanted it to be as spacious as possible there. We didn’t anticipate two people who claim to hate each other having to share it. It’s for cuddling.”

That urge to smack someone reared its ugly head. “You’re ridiculous.”

She laughed from the back of her throat, and as irritated as you were it did make you smile. “Take a long walk, babe. If you’re in the village there’s a great ice cream place near the church that’ll make you forget all about He Who Shall Not Be Named.”

You rolled your eyes. “I can say Harry, for fuck’s sake.”

She screamed as if she’d been burned, teasing you.

“Shut up.” You actually managed to laugh. “Fine. I’ll go find some ice cream. But if they’ve got WiFi I will absolutely be looking for an AirBnB.”

She sighed. “Fine.”

“Do me a favour and tell my brother to stop being a wuss.”

“Oh, come on, you know he can’t handle your wrath. You can tell him yourself, anyway.”

You started looking around to see if they’d actually come up and were just loitering nearby to piss you off.

“What?”

“We were going to surprise you but I think you might murder us if we did. We’re on our way to you. My Nanna will be coming, too - we’ve got a table booked at the pub in the village.”

Unbelievable. “You little minx.”

One of the reasons Holly and your brother bought a holiday home in Scotland was to be able to spend more time with Holly’s family. While she grew up in London and has never left it, her mum’s side of the family are all in Scotland.

Holly giggled, obviously delighted with herself. “Sorry. We’re set to arrive in about two hours.”

“But where are you staying?”

“My Nan’s house.”

“Not got a spare room, has she?” You mumbled.

“I know you don’t mean that, but she doesn’t. We’re staying on her pullout.”

“Damn.”

“We’re gonna go straight there and then come to you afterwards, alright?”

You took a deep breath and stood up from your bench. “Yeah, alright. I’ll see you in a few hours, then.”

“Byeee!”

You were already making a beeline for the ice cream shop by the time she put the phone down.

It was a cute little parlour, like something straight out of a movie. Retro tiles covered the walls and floor in pinks and yellows, two long display freezers to the left full to the brim with every single flavour one could ever imagine. Tables spread across the right and spilled onto the street, and booths in the corner each had a miniature jukebox on top.

“How can I help you?” A man behind the counter asked, dressed in a full uniform complete with the little hat.

“Hi, um,” you gave him the best smile you could, even if you were overwhelmed, “do you have any gluten free cones?”

“Sure,” he gestured to the stand on the top with a variety of cones, from small to ridiculously large in size, “just this one.”

The cone in question was the most pathetic-looking of them all. You did your absolute best to hide your disappointment. “Great, then I’ll have one of those. Chocolate, please.”

“Which type?” He lifted a brow.

You realised then that there were about ten different chocolate flavours. “Er… which is the best one in your opinion?”

That perked him up. He spent the next five minutes listing off reasons why the chocolate and hazelnut flavour was his most popular of all his options.

“I guess that’s the one I want, then.” You forced another smile.

“Coming right up.”

Something made you shiver, but it wasn’t a gust of wind or the freezers you stood by.

“At least try and act like you’re excited about it.” A deep voice murmured, far too close to your ear for your liking.

You practically hissed and took a very purposeful step away. “Jesus, Harry.”

He laughed, but the sound wasn’t spiteful like it usually would be. “Only you could make ice cream seem rubbish.”

“I don’t think ice cream is rubbish,” Was your only retort. You just wished gluten free cones didn’t look so fucking sad.

The owner handed you your cone and you paid him in cash. “Do you have WiFi in here?”

“Sure. Password’s on the wall up there.” He pointed at a laminated sign, and then turned his attention to Harry. “Hey, aren’t you that guy?”

Your cue to leave.

While Harry had an awkward conversation with the parlour owner about which guy he was, you connected to the internet and took a seat on the patio outside with your back to the sun. A satisfied hum left you at the warmth on your skin. You concentrated on demolishing your ice cream before you made a mess of yourself.

Unfortunately, Harry decided today wasn’t the day he was going to leave you alone. He sat down opposite you with a three-flavour cone, the colours unsettlingly unnatural. He looked uncomfortable, and this time it wasn’t because of you.

“What on Earth is that?”

“This is a masterpiece.” At least he could still behave like an idiot even when he’d been ‘spotted’.

“It looks disgusting.”

You watched him with a deep-seated discomfort as he shamelessly licked around his cone. Unfiltered moans came out of his mouth, but you were certain he was acting up for your benefit.

“What flavours are they?” You just had to ask.

“Mint chocolate, bubblegum and ginger.”

“Ginger?” You almost choked on a hazelnut. “Sir, you have a serious problem.”

He laughed again, that same obnoxiously easy sound as before. “Did you just call me sir?”

“I did and I immediately regret it.”

He made a noise, an amused squeak of sorts. “Why did you look so horrified by yours, anyway?”

You shifted in your chair, having just popped the end of the cone in your mouth. You glanced over your shoulder to make sure the owner wasn’t listening, pleased to find him distracted by a large family. “The gluten free options for cones was utter shite.”

“How so?”

“Well, he only had one type, and it was poxy as shit.”

He snorted. “I thought it looked small. I don’t imagine it being a lot of fun.”

You were immediately reminded of the croissant he’d picked up for you. You knew that you needed to say thank you, even if it did feel like taking a punch in the gut. “Thank you for the pastry.”

He paused mid-lick as if you’d just spoken a foreign language. He looked ridiculous and almost child-like, green eyes wide and pupils so narrow thanks to the sun they were barely visible. He rescued a drip before he made a mess. “Welcome. How is your…” he tapped his temple.

“Yeah, better.”

“Good.”

You returned to silence, and you got busy looking for a new place to stay. The options were… lacking. You knew the decision to go away during the school holidays would be a silly one anyway, but you wanted the heat. You wanted a summer holiday. Not a cold and wet one. But at such late notice in an area with limited options to begin with, all that was really left were large houses for groups of ten or places miles and miles away that would cost yet more money to travel to. The only other thing you could think of was buying a tent and pitching up on a nearby campsite, but you fucking hated tents and camping.

As time wore on and Harry’s ice cream disappeared, you noticed him growing more restless. You glanced up a couple of times to find him with his head down, but you eventually figured out the source of his discomfort. He was shooting looks at something over your shoulder while constantly readjusting his ball cap.

You straightened in your seat and twisted yourself slightly to get a better look.

“Don’t turn around.” He muttered without looking at you.

You frowned. “Why?”

He never gave you an answer so you did it anyway. A couple of tables over someone was doing a very bad job at hiding their phone.

For God’s sake.

“Do you want to swap seats?” You offered.

He gave you a startled look, and admittedly you were surprised at your own suggestion. “No.”

“You sure? The back of your head is way less appealing than the front of it.”

You could see the confusion spread across his face and you wished immediately that you could take your words back. He was too wound up to mention it now, but you knew he definitely would in the future.

“They’ve already got about fifteen minutes worth of pictures, there’s no point moving now.” He huffed and readjusted the hat on his head once more, eyes downcast.

You pursed your lips in thought. After a moment you readjusted your seat so that you were hopefully positioned right in the way. Harry gave you a blank look, eyes still darting to the people behind you.

“Do you want to go?”

“Not particularly.”

You knew what he meant. He shouldn’t have to leave just because other people didn’t know how to behave like normal human beings.

A minute later the table behind you stood and left, so something had at least worked.

“Thank you.” He said it so quietly you nearly missed it. “Your lack of subtlety was almost entertaining.”

You weren’t offended by that. You hadn’t meant to be subtle. “I know we don’t get on but I respect your privacy. You should’ve asked them to delete it.”

“Then it just makes me look like a prick.”

“But you are a prick.”

He broke into another laugh. That laugh that held no malice or spite. The one he’d only debuted today. Then he slid back to stoicism. “I’ll be all over the Daily Mail again tomorrow anyway.”

Something weird happened. Anger materialised in your chest, and it wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling in the slightest. What was unusual was that it came on Harry’s behalf. Usually you felt this way because of Harry, not for him.

You cleared your throat. “It’s okay to tell people to fuck off every once in a while, Harry.”

“Not when you’re me, it isn’t.”

“It is when people don’t know how to set boundaries.”

“Don’t worry about it. Seriously.” He readjusted his cap again and sunk further into his seat. “Not the first time I’ve been spotted on holiday.”

“With a mystery woman, no less.”

He snorted. “Sorry in advance.”

“For what?”

“You’re about to become the most interesting person on the planet. I’d privatise your Instagram.”

“It already is. Nor is it very interesting.”

“Just… I don’t know. I know what they’re like.”

“You think I give a shit what a bunch of people on the internet think about me?”

“I don’t know, maybe.”

“Have I ever given a shit what anyone else has thought about me?”

He tipped his head. “No.”

“Exactly.”

“It’s their boundaries I’m worried about.”

“Don’t be. If those pictures do make it anywhere, I’ll have no problem telling the next person to fuck off if it comes to it.”

The smallest smile tugged at his lips. “Then I really hope for their sake that there isn’t a next time.”

You hadn’t left the parlour until you’d come up with a solution to your living arrangement. It took longer than you’d like, but eventually you settled for the only option; in two weeks you’d let Harry have the cabin and move into an AirBnB a few towns over. A bungalow this time with a very big bed. You’d had to fork out a deposit since it was a booking of more than 7 nights, which put another lovely dent in your bank balance. You were really trying not to think about it.

Harry hadn’t passed comment when you told him. He just gave a blank stare and a curt nod, which was very unlike him. When it came to you, he’d never had any problem parting with his opinions.

You’d been ambushed on your way back to the cabin by your brother and Holly. After changing and freshening up you all walked down to the pub together to meet Holly’s Nanna. You had met her at the wedding but only briefly. Your brother and Holly’s special day had been somewhat dampened by the fact that Harry materialised again whenever you forgot about him and ended up drinking yourself into an early bedtime. The next morning you were rewarded with the worst hangover of your entire life.

Nanna was amazing. One of those larger than life women who weren’t afraid to drop the c word a couple of times without so much as batting an eyelid, and using Malibu as an excuse for a good time. You’d been seated on a round table which relieved you to no end. You were sandwiched between Nanna and your brother which meant there was a decent amount of distance between you and Harry.

“I need you to tell me something.” Nanna patted your arm, giving you her full attention.

It was like being addressed by royalty. “Anything.”

“I hear there’s a story about your brother involving nappies and toothpaste. A serial offence. He won’t tell me and Holly conveniently doesn’t know about it.”

You gave your brother a look.

“Please don’t.” He begged.

“But Nanna asked so nicely.”

“You’re about to embarrass me in front of the man I work for?”

You don’t look at Harry. “It’s not like you haven’t managed that all by yourself on previous occasions.”

“Yeah, don’t stop on my account.” Harry coughed, battling laughter.

“Great, we’re all on the same page.” You grinned. You turned back to Nanna, “Once upon a time, my little brother had to sleep in a crib and wear nappies just like all the other babies. He was cute, it should be said. I have a picture on my phone somewhere of him running around the garden with no clothes on.”

Your brother rolled his eyes and sunk into his seat with a scowl. Holly gave him a patronising pat on the shoulder.

“Anyway, beside the point. Like most toddlers he was an absolute tyrant, compared to me - I was an angel.”

“Hard to believe.” Harry muttered.

“Aye,” Nanna shot him a look. She’d been smitten with him all night until that point.

“Don’t worry about it - we’re in an ongoing feud.” You brushed the matter away and continued with your story. “During his reign of tyranny, he adopted a very obscure but passionate obsession with toothpaste. Colgate Cool Stripe only - no other product lived up to his expectations. It all started when, one day, our mother accidentally used adult toothpaste instead of the toddler stuff. An uphill battle began.

“Any time he had to clean his teeth, he’d try and use Colgate instead of the kiddy stuff, and mum or dad would fight with him until he surrendered in a screaming fit and had a toothbrush forced into his face hole.”

Someone sniggered, and your chest inflated. Making people laugh had always pleased you.

“His addiction got so bad, one night he managed to escape from his cot and into Mum and Dad’s bathroom. They found him on the floor with an empty tube and Colgate smushed all over his cute little face. Hours later he had a terrible accident. I won’t go into graphic detail since we’ve just had our dinner.”

Nanna started laughing, a throaty and hoarse sound. Given the amount of times she’d excused herself for a cigarette, you attributed that habit to the unique noise. “And this happened more than once?”

You nodded. “They tried locking it in the cabinet a few times, but he’d always find it. Eventually they changed tactics and just bought Aquafresh instead.”

Nanna hummed and gave him a pointed look. “I’ve always thought you were a picky bastard.”

“Nanna,” Holly gasped, shaking with laughter. She leaned her forehead against her husband’s shoulder.

“I can’t be that picky if I ended up with your granddaughter.”

Holly threw her hands up. “Does anyone else want to bully me today? Between that and being called very stupid I think I might have room for one more insult.”

“Your shoes don’t go with your dress.” Nanna said.

After a beat of silence, the table erupted into laughter.

The waiter returned to offer dessert, which you would usually forego since pubs rarely tended to offer gluten free choices without putting up a fight. You’d learned to live a sad, dessert-less existence. But everyone else was having one so you succumbed to peer pressure.

“What ice cream flavours do you have?”

“For the sundae?” The young girl asked with a confused frown.

“No, I’m coeliac so I can’t have it.”

“Oh,” her cheeks turned pink, which was not your intention, “sorry. Um, just the usual flavours, then.”

Neopolitan.

“Great, can I have two scoops of chocolate.”

“Sure.”

She was very quick to hurry off. Something bothered you about that whole exchange but you couldn’t put your finger on it.

“Aren’t you bored of chocolate ice cream?” Harry asked, but he was fiddling with his napkin rather than looking at you.

“Never.”

Holly kicked his leg under the table but you pretended not to notice.

After the bill was settled, which Harry tried to sneak off and pay for without telling anyone, you bid goodbye to each other and sent your brother, Holly and Nanna off together in a taxi. The waitress hadn’t stopped giving you wary glances ever since you asked for ice cream, and you still couldn’t place what went wrong. You might have been a little short with her but it wasn’t meant with any malice.

It didn’t really dawn on you what was wrong until you were walking up the hill to the cabin with Harry.

A curdling feeling in your stomach had you feeling very queasy very quickly.

“Oh no.” You mumbled, keeping your gaze on the grass below you. Your vision swung and you struggled to keep your balance.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked, turning back to you. He’d been a couple of metres ahead of you for the entire walk so you didn’t have to force a conversation.

You sat down on the grass to keep yourself gravitated, but it was no good. You weren’t nauseous because you were dizzy, you were dizzy because you were sick.

You spent the next ten minutes vomiting into the bushes.

Harry had kept a relative distance from you while you were sick, only handing you a bottle of water when you seemed to give up the last of your stomach contents and take a big breath.

“Are you okay?” He asked in a cautious voice.

Unattractively, you swilled your mouth out and then necked the remaining contents of the bottle. “Yeah, fine.”

“What happened?”

“I think something went wrong at dinner.”

“What do you mean?”

You gave him a levelled look, trying to communicate with your eyes. It seemed like a ridiculous idea considering you could barely communicate together with words, let alone silent glances.

“Ah… did it say gluten free on the menu?”

You nodded.

“Did you tell them?”

You shook your head. Sometimes you liked to put faith in humanity and believe you’d be fine putting yourself in the hands of others. When you were dining with practical strangers, making a fuss about your condition made you feel like a twat, so you kept quiet about it. Now you wish you’d said something.

“Are you gonna make a complaint?”

You shook your head furiously and readjusted yourself to sit back on your arse rather than your knees. “Happens all the time, sadly.”

“That girl knew they’d fucked up, didn’t she?”

“You saw that?”

“I saw you looking at her a lot after the ice cream thing.”

You made a strange noise. “It is what it is. I don’t blame her for not saying anything. For all she knows I could be going home unscathed.”

“But you’re not.”

“Don’t worry about it, Harry. I’m not into making a scene.”

“You could’ve been seriously ill.”

“I know that.”

“If you don’t tell them they fucked up, how are they going to know to stop it from happening to someone else in the future?”

You took a deep breath and looked up to the sky. You and Harry had made progress today, on some weird level, but this was not part of that progress. “Fine. I’ll do something about it tomorrow.”

“No you won’t.”

“Leave it alone, Harry!” You finally snapped. “How I handle my health issues is none of your fucking business, especially when you haven’t got a fucking clue what it’s like to have them. Just drop it.”

His jaw ticked. “Fine.”

He disappeared up the hill and into the cabin without so much as another word.

You collapsed onto your back and let a tight sob wrack through you.

You contemplated what the fuck you were doing. This holiday had been nothing but a shit show from start to day 2 and you didn’t want to do it anymore. You should’ve gone home this morning. You’d refused to quit so early on given how long it had been since you had any real time off, but the universe was clearly working against you and you wished you hadn’t bothered.

As it always did, a second round of vomiting ensued, and you were back on your hands and knees hacking up bile while your stomach protested. You cried more as you threw up.

As the convulsions subsided you collapsed onto your back again, but the smell of it was starting to affect you. Slowly, you stood on shaky legs and attempted to make your way up to the cabin.

You hadn’t realised, but Harry was standing at the top of the hill wearing a frown, hands shoved into his pockets. When you caught sight of him you were ashamed. You knew what he’d said came from a good place, but it just really ground your gears when people who had no idea what it was like tried to tell you how to handle it.

He made his way back to you and silently placed his hand on the small of your back. It was warm and unfamiliar, but you couldn’t work out if the trembling from you was because of that or because you were just sick.

“How much more did you see?” You asked, helpless.

He gave you a startled look, like he was shocked to hear you so vulnerable. “Enough.”

You sighed and kept your gaze on the floor, trying not to fall over.

“Do you have any medication or anything?”

You shook your head. “It doesn’t really work like that.”

Once you got to the cabin you headed straight for the bathroom and changed into your pyjamas. You then poured yourself a glass of water and took it to bed with you. You were asleep within seconds.

You slept through the night that night. When you woke you felt a shit-ton better than you had the night before, and it left you with a smile on your face. You wriggled your legs and toes underneath the sheets and stretched your arms.

You realised the bed was empty, but when you peeled an eye open it was obvious Harry had slept on his side at some point. You sat up to an empty room. There was no sign of Harry, again.

You didn’t know much about Harry’s daily routine but you would put money on him being an early morning runner. You shivered at the thought.

He appeared whilst you were in the middle of your second round of toast. It was the only thing you could think to try and stomach after yesterday’s disaster. Harry was in regular clothes, not running attire. You owed yourself a fiver.

“Ah,” he paused at the sight of you eating toast, and limply lifted his hand. The same greasy brown paper bag rustled in his grip.

“Don’t be shy.” You patted the table after swallowing your mouthful. “I’ll still eat it.”

“You’re that hungry?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s what happens when you’re forced to empty your entire stomach contents.”

His nose wrinkled. “Right.”

You took a sip of coffee while he made himself comfortable in the seat opposite you.

“How do you feel?”

“Well, I slept the night through and didn’t hit my head this morning which is a major improvement on yesterday.”

“That’s something. Do you feel right enough to go out?”

“If I weren’t on holiday I’d be right back to work, Harry. No rest for the wicked and all.”

“Is that a yes, then?” He cocked a brow.

“Yes, Harry.”

“Okay. I was gonna go down to the lake… it’s really warm out.”

“Are you telling me, or is that an invitation?”

He picked his pastry apart. “Both? I don’t know, it might do you some good.”

Concern? From your nemesis? This was bad. “Oh, don’t go coy on me, Harry. It doesn’t suit you.”

“Knew I shouldn’t have bothered.”

“That’s more like it.”

His mouth lifted at the corner for the shortest fraction of a second.

“Is it pebbly or sandy?”

An olive branch.

“Both?”

The worst kind of lake beach, then. “The type that calls for a special type of shoe.”

He grimaced. “I know.”

“It’s fine. We make do.” You pronounced, and stood from the table with your dirty things. “Give me 20 minutes and we’ll go.”

“That alright?”

You peered up at the man blocking the sun with a pinched look. He stood before you in a faded white t-shirt and board shorts, holding an ice cream cone with a single chocolate scoop on top.

“As long as it’s the right cone, it’s perfect.”

“I double checked.” He promised as he handed it to you, and then sat with his own.

This was day four on the beach by the lake. While you and Harry spent the time there together, you did your own thing. He spent most of his time in the water like a fucking fish, and you spent yours on a towel with a book and enough food to feed the 5,000.

You’d found a tolerable medium with Harry. In the day you gave each other your needed space, and at night time you tried not to touch each other in bed. Or smother each other. So far it had worked well.

You hadn’t seen Holly or your brother since that night at dinner. They’d actually been visiting for a relative’s birthday party and had already gone home, leaving you and Harry to suffer together.

“I think you’re running low on your special bread.”

You snorted and covered your mouth. ‘Special bread’ made you sound like some kind of escaped lunatic.

“I don’t know why I said it like that.” Harry shook his head. “But the fact remains.”

“We’re running low on a lot.”

“Maybe we should go shopping.”

You groaned. This is what your life had come to: grocery shopping with a celebrity.

“I’ll make it as painless as possible.”

“Where even is the nearest supermarket?”

“I don’t know - I went shopping on the way here.”

“So did I.”

Has there ever been a more ridiculous conversation?

Harry found his phone and checked for signal, soon letting out a soft sigh. “Five weeks without WiFi was a stupid idea.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

You decided to check a map on the notice board outside the public toilets on the lake site and decided there must be a supermarket in the nearest town. Harry drove you out into the Scottish countryside following his sat-nav’s directions to the closest town.

It was a little odd being in the same car as him. While your brother’s work relationship and subsequent marriage had brought him into your life for many a family gathering, you’d never found yourself in quite such a confined space as this. Apart from the bed situation. You were certain he was being quiet on your behalf, because silence was better than small talk. The decision to go shopping had proven that much.

“Unbelievable.” He muttered the second you entered the supermarket.

You followed his nervous gaze to a man with a camera doing a shitty job at hiding. “Go back to the car if you want to.”

“Hardly fair.”

“Being uncomfortable isn’t fair.” You insisted. “Go take a drive and be back here in half an hour. I don’t mind.”

He sighed and handed you the list you’d prepared before leaving. “I’ll be back.”

“Yes, please don’t use this opportunity to abandon me here.”

He smirked. “Don’t put ideas in my head.” He took his wallet out of his pocket and handed you his card. “Use that.”

You frowned at it, and then him in turn. “I don’t mind paying for it.”

“Pay with my card and then send me half when you find signal or internet or whatever.” He turned away, but threw, “Half an hour,” over his shoulder.

You had to take a moment to collect yourself. Now you weren’t grocery shopping with a celebrity, you were using one’s credit card.

Before you started your shopping, you had one more thing you had to do. Stalking the man who was stalking your reluctant companion was easy because he didn’t try very hard to be subtle. You tapped him on the shoulder.

He spun around with a bewildered look on his face. “Yes?”

“Delete them.”

True to his word, Harry returned half an hour later with a confusing smile. “Guess what I found.”

You let him take the bags out of your hands to shove them in the boot of his car. “What?”

“A fucking Costa.”

“No way…”

“Yes way.” He grinned.

“Where?”

“Literally around the corner.” He thumbed in that general direction. “I got two ‘cause I didn’t know which one you liked.”

“As long as it’s got coffee in it, I’ll consume it.”

Sure enough, two starkly different iced coffees sat in the cup holders in his central console.

“Which one do you want?” You asked. He did buy them after all.

“I don’t mind. You choose.”

“Please pick one.”

“No.”

“Harry.”

“Fine.” He plucked one at random and started drinking as he pulled off. “Happy?”

“Yes. Thank you.” And you meant it, too.

Silence settled between you again as you slurped away at your coffee. It was comfortable this time. You put the window down and stuck your arm out to feel the breeze through your fingers.

“Do you ever wonder how we got so…”

You looked over at him with a curious expression, but he never finished his sentence. “What?”

Harry shook his head. “Never mind.”

“Oh, come on, Harry.” You poked his arm. “You’ve never been one to mince your words in front of me before. Don’t start now.”

His lips twitched with a smile, but it was quickly replaced by something else. A kind of sad contemplation. “I don’t want to ruin a rare nice day.”

Now you were the one struggling to find words. Animosity was just the default practice for you and Harry when you were around each other. After so many years of battling over often ridiculous things, he was right. This was a rare nice day. You hadn’t argued once. Come to think of it, you hadn’t argued at all since the day you were sick. That little spat on the hill was the last one.

But curiosity ate away at you. What was he going to say that had the potential to ruin your good time? Knowing Harry, it could be any number of things.

“I promise I won’t lose my shit if you tell me.”

His face lit up with amusement, but he never laughed. “Shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Right there, in that single moment, you were reminded just why the world had an obsession with the man sitting beside you. Even in the blandest setting, Harry Styles looked like the man who would promise you everything you’ve ever wanted and be able to deliver it to you. The man who held enough charisma both on and off stage for a hundred other men. The man with pretty eyes and pretty pink lips. The man who looked damn good whether he was clean-shaven or harbouring two weeks of scruff like he was now. The man who would spoil you to no end, who would give you a life of comfort and stability, who would drop everything at a second’s notice to be yours. Fuck, he looked like the man who might even die for you.

You’d seen Harry in love and the man gave his whole fucking heart and soul to the person he was with. His inherent attractiveness was just a bonus.

“Tell me, please.” You tried again.

He considered it for a moment, chewing the inside of his cheek. Eventually he sighed, “Do you ever wonder how things managed to get so bad? Between us?”

Ah.

A loaded question, indeed.

“Do you want the honest answer?”

He glanced your way, jaw suddenly tense. “I don’t know.”

“I don’t tend to wonder about it because I haven’t forgotten at all how we did.”

“Walk me through it.”

“Are you sure you want that?”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from the most honest woman I know.”

You were biding your time, mulling over your response. Perhaps this would ruin your nice day, but this was the most open conversation the two of you were ever going to have. Not talking about it would be both a missed opportunity and a disservice to yourself.

“Okay. You’re not going to like it, though.”

“I didn’t expect to.”

You took a deep breath. “The first time I met you didn’t go at all how I expected it to. In hindsight I guess, to you, I would’ve just been a footnote. Your friends have other friends you probably meet all the time and I was just one of the next hundred. Holly and my brother had only just started dating, but Holly and I got on so well we started doing things together as friends without him. She invited me to lunch with… you know, the usual suspects.”

He nodded once, slowly. The usual suspects he wasn’t speaking to anymore for various different reasons. You didn’t keep tabs on Harry’s life by choice, but Holly and the internet provided more about it than you cared for.

“Maybe you were just young. Or maybe there was something different that I just missed or didn’t understand, but you weren’t at all like I expected you to be. Everyone - my brother, Holly, my parents -, everyone said you were amazing. ‘The nicest boy you’ll ever meet’. And sure, you were nice. Charming, even. And you had everyone’s undivided attention, including Holly’s. And mine. But Holly’s more so.

“That girl loves you. And I watched her love you up close and personal and it was amazing and beautiful and I really wanted her to give just even a portion of that love to my brother. And she did, but it didn’t come without a fight.

“I didn’t care that you spent most of that lunch ignoring everyone else at the table. Or maybe I did. I just knew that you only cared about Holly’s undivided attention and she had no quarrels giving it to you. There was a time I thought you might be secretly in love with each other,” you laughed at the reminder because it seemed stupid now, “but when I brought it up with her she laughed so hard she cried and then pretended to vomit.”

“Damn,” Harry produced an offended laugh. “Didn’t know I was that repulsive.”

“Anyway, it didn’t stop her from loving you. Never has. Soon after, I spent a week with her and my brother in Spain on some all-inclusive thing. Before you ask, I was forced to go. Being a third-wheel is absolutely not my style.”

He chuckled. “I didn’t think it sounded like you.”

You shook your head. “Not at all. Anyway, I watched Holly send constant photos, messages, gifs, any and all digital media to you while we were on that holiday, cataloguing the entire thing. I don’t think you realise how many times I heard oh Harry’s gonna love this. But what got me is you never replying to her. Not once. Her phone screen was just a sea of blue messages against a backdrop of silence. At one point I considered she’d got the wrong number, but then you texted her the day we left with something really dull and generic and I really wanted to hit you.”

“I don’t remember this at all.” He admitted, face paled.

“That doesn’t surprise me. You’re a busy man. I reminded myself of that a lot to start off with, but the whole thing became a recurring pattern. Maybe you think I’m stupid and it’s a bit of an overreaction for it, but I’m quite observant when I want to be. You’re Holly’s best friend, even if she’s not yours. Every time she says it, it’s like she’s been given the greatest gift in the entire world. And she’s such a bright, incredible person. She’s my best friend. Not just because she’s married to my brother, but because she’s the best person I’ve ever met and nothing will ever change that.

“Over the years I’ve watched countless messages and phone calls from her to you go unanswered, seen her face turn down with sadness when you don’t call her back or text out a reply. She deserves more than that.

“I’ve noticed you do it to my brother, too. I know he works for you so maybe it’s not the same, but it’s safe to say that in their house, Harry Styles isn’t a name that lights up their phone screens very often. Ever.”

Harry fidgeted a little and cleared his throat. “All this time I thought I’d done something to you.”

“No. Worse. You continually managed to upset my best friend, even if you didn’t know it, and in turn you upset me.”

“Then I’m sorry.”

“It’s not me you need to apologise to, Harry. She’ll never admit that she’s hurt by your silence because she doesn’t want to lose you. This is why we’re so very different. I don’t hang around for people who don’t appreciate the good they have in their life. I’m a good person, and Holly is an even better one. She deserves more than your attention when she’s only sat in front of you.”

“You’re right. I’m an idiot.”

“Yes you are.”

His lips twitched again. “The next time I’m in the village with signal I’ll call her. Promise.”

“Don’t promise me. Promise yourself, and her. One day she might snap and decide she doesn’t want to wait for months at a time to hear from you. Because hearing about you through my brother doesn’t count.”

“I know. I get it, I really do…”

“Good. Now, my turn.” You let out a long breath and turned in your seat. “Why do you hate me so much?”

“I don’t hate you-,”

“You called me both insufferable and intolerable in the space of five minutes when I got here.”

“Let me finish.” He said, exasperated. “I don’t hate you, I’m scared of you.”

“Calling someone intolerable because you’re scared of them doesn’t make any sense.”

“Well, let’s put it this way. While perhaps you were right, at first I thought you were just another friend of a friend who’d made an appearance for uncertain reasons, it became apparent very quickly that you weren’t going anywhere. It also became very apparent that you were not my biggest fan. That first lunch was one of a kind because you barely said a word. Every other time after that, which I now realise happened to be family-oriented, you hardly shut up.

“I’ve always noticed it. You command the attention of everyone in the room. You’re a storyteller. You could turn an anecdote about a trip to the petrol station into a fairytale. You give everyone in the room your undivided attention, and when I realised you never gave it to me, well… safe to say I was wounded. Holly talked you up to high heaven. Your brother loves you. My own mother loves you even though we don’t get on.

“There’s something about you. And the fact that the only attention you ever gave me was a dirty look or a snippy remark made me petty. So I started giving it back, and I think the more I did it, the more I lost sight of the kind of person you actually are, because I only focused on the side you showed to me.”

He turned into the driveway of the cabin, and you thought he was done. But when the engine shut off, he said one last thing.

“In one of your many little outbursts you said I’ve got a severe case of oosoom syndrome. I never bothered to look it up because I didn’t want to know what kind of idiot you thought I was, but it’s just clicked.”

“Out of sight, out of mind.”

He nodded and turned to you with a calm gaze. “I get it now.” He wasn’t just talking about the idiom.

“Good.”

The rain was back and heavier than ever. The ground surrounding the cabin was a swamp, the hill that led down to the village was indiscernible thanks to the downpour, and the day was dark and moody. Inside the cabin it was muggy and humid and you felt ridiculous sitting at the dining table in a vest and denim shorts, but you were.

Harry sitting opposite you looked more rugged than usual. His hair was pulled back with a clip, his stubble was shifting into a beard and his clothes were wrinkled.

“Hmm…” He gave an obnoxious tap on his chin.

You rolled your eyes and sunk into the seat. “Just put me out of my misery and show me your cards.”

He laughed, peering at you with a lightness in his eyes that was so unfamiliar it almost had you shell shocked. “Fine.” He placed his hand on the table showcasing his win.

It was day three of this charade. It hadn’t stopped raining and all you’d done was cycle between card games and Monopoly. He always won. You were so fed up of him winning that this was the last straw.

You stood and swiped his hand off the table so that they landed in a flurry on the wooden cabin floor.

“Hey…” he pouted.

“That was childish of me, I’m sorry.” You groaned, and crouched down to pick them up. “I’m so bored, Harry. I think I’m going mad. We don’t even have a TV. We’re in the middle of nowhere with a pack of cards missing the Ace of Spades and Queen of Hearts and an old beat up Monopoly box with half the properties missing.”

He blinked at me. “I know this. I’ve been with you the whole time.”

“Sorry.” You muttered. “When I’m frustrated I just state the obvious.”

“But I thought that was my job.”

You rolled your head back and sighed at the ceiling. “I need to do something. Anything. I don’t want to sit in here anymore. I need air.”

“It’s pissing it down.”

“I’m aware. You have a car… just humour me for a bit. An hour tops.”

“You want me to drive you around for an hour? In a smaller space than we’re already in?”

“Okay, fine,” you sat back down in your chair and attempted to plead with the normal side of him, the non-celebrity side, “what if… when me and my brother were little and we went away with Mum and Dad, if the weather was crap like this we’d get in the car and drive to the nearest supermarket. And we’d have lunch in the cafe and then do a bit of shopping and then come back. And we’d all get one thing to bide the time before the weather got better again. Why don’t we do that?”

A smile was forming on his lips. “You want to try shopping with me again?”

“That prick and his fancy camera won’t be going back there, trust me.”

His eyes narrowed. “Why, what did you do?”

“Nothing you need to worry about.” You patted his hand. “Please, Harry. Rescue me from insanity.”

“Fine, but only ‘cause you asked so nicely.”

“Yay!” You stood and clapped your hands together. “I’m gonna change.”

Half an hour later you were back at the supermarket in the town over and ready to find as much new entertainment as possible.

“Do you think we should buy them a TV?” Harry contemplated aloud as he stood in front of a large flatscreen.

You gave him a scrutinous look. “And put it where?”

“Good point.” He sighed. “We’re missing Love Island.”

You barked a laugh and carried it down the aisle with you. “That is not what I expected you to mourn over.”

“I’m full of surprises.”

You found your way to the games and books. “Can we get a jigsaw puzzle?”

“Why are you asking me? Get whatever you want, mate.”

You perused the options with as much interest as a car fanatic in a vintage car garage. “Farmyard or harbour? Or circus? Or mountains?”

“Whichever will keep you occupied for the longest.” He said absently, moving down the aisle to the board games.

The circus one had the most pieces and highest level of difficulty, so you plucked the box off the shelf and followed after him. “Have they got the Game of Life?”

He started laughing but never answered you.

“Oh,” you pouted, tapping the spin-off version that was much shorter and way less entertaining.

“Bop-It?”

“When I was little I completed that.”

He raised a brow at you. “Can you even complete Bop-It?”

“Yes,” you snatched the box off the shelf, “and I will prove it to you when we get back.”

“We’ll see about that.” He whispered, smirking. “We need an actual board game.”

You gazed over the options with the same level of interest as the jigsaws. “You choose. I’ve picked the last two.”

“Absolutely not, I’ll only pick wrong.”

“What’s your favourite?”

“Cluedo.”

“Then get Cluedo.” You pointed at it and walked away.

Two hours later and three books heavier you were back at the cabin and starting your jigsaw puzzle. You and Harry sat on your claimed sides of the table, box lid propped against the window and a selection of snacks between you.

“Where the fuck is the fourth corner?” You grumbled, digging through the box like a cat in a litter tray.

Harry glanced at the box lid, then at the jumbled selection of tiles, and plucked it out without hesitation. “There y’go.”

You blinked at him. “Is there anything you’re not good at?” You pinched it from him and placed it in the relevant corner. “Thank you.”

“A compliment and gratitude? It is a good day.”

You stuck your tongue out at him.

“I’m not very good at the splits.”

That made you laugh, right from the back of your throat. “Have you tried?”

“Many times.”

“For what purpose?”

“I had a thing for my yoga instructor once and she was convinced I could do it so I kept trying just to impress her.”

“My God, you are a sap.”

“Pathetic, isn’t it?”

“It’s nice to know you failed at something for such a pitiful reason.”

He gave you such a megawatt smile you had to look away. “I’m just like any other boy.”

“I can’t believe you had to try hard to impress anyone. It almost doesn’t seem natural.”

“You make me sound like a robot.”

“I don’t think you’re a robot. I just think sometimes things seem to come a little too easily to you. Skills. Work. Friends. Women. Probably men, too. Some of us have to try really hard to get those things.”

“You have friends. A good job. And I refuse to believe people aren’t interested in you… romantically.”

You lifted a brow at him. “Refuse?”

“Are they not?”

“Have you ever known me to be ‘romantically’ involved with anyone?”

“Yeah, that lad you took to your brother’s wedding.”

Colin.

“He’s gay.”

“Oh.” He scratched his nose. “I wondered why he kept eyeing up one of the groomsmen. Your cousin?”

“Also gay.”

“Have you never had a boyfriend?”

“Not since school, no.”

“Have you… are you… you know?”

You gave him another raised brow. “You’re not seriously asking me that.”

He rubbed his hands down his face and groaned. “I’m sorry. Ignore me.”

“Just because I haven’t had relationships, doesn’t mean I’m a virgin, Harry.”

The tips of his ears turned pink. “I think we’ve gone a bit off track here.”

“You’re tellin’ me.”

He slotted a piece into place next to one of the corners. You slotted another one in after that. The pattern repeated itself, in silence, for the next twenty minutes.

“When do you go to your AirBnB?”

You met his gaze with a calm expression. “Six days. Five nights.”

“Okay.” He said as he stood. “Are you hungry enough for dinner yet?”

“If you are, we can eat.”

He gave a stiff nod. “Okay.”

~~~

Part 2

Talk to me?

#harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles ou #harry styles fluff #harry styles fluff imagine #harry styles fluff imagines #harry styles angst #harry styles angst imagines

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forallnumbersosc · 5 months ago

Note

Gaty!! didja get any intresting information from the "exitors" ??

- 🍁Maple Anon

[OOG IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I HAD TO PROCESS TPOT 11 WHEN IT CAME OUT IM STILL ON AN AUTISM HIGH FROM IT]

ALRIGHT!! I've gotten what I can from the EXITors and compiled all of my notes, it's time for me to show my findings on!!

The EXIT!

So what IS the EXIT?

The best thing I can gather having not been there myself, is that it's an extra-dimensional space that exists within Four. Whenever something is eaten (or... in Four's words "zooped") by Four, they shrink down to accompany the initial "space" of Four's mouth, AKA the only place in his body that is closest to following the laws of Physics... Once you enter that door, things get WAY stranger....

I should also preface that we don't know for sure if every algebralien has such a space, as we have only observed these in Four, who seems to have far more power, or at least.... he decides to use far more power than other algebraliens... It's entirely possible that Four is the only one who has the ability to house a space like this!

LAYER ZERO: The Entrance

Diagram legend:

Four's mouth, one of the entrances to the EXIT. Appears much, MUCH higher up once anything enters Layer 0. This diagram does not show the true depth of how far the floor is from Four's mouth.

Four's OTHER mouth. His main tool of contestant transportation when contestants get eliminated... It's not very visible at all, you'd have to pull back Four's mane to even see it, and even then it's also invisible from the other side!

Skin?? Layer?? Honestly I don't know what makes up algebralien skin aside from the fact that in Four's case it acts as the catalyst for the initial "shrinkage" of anything that enters the space... It also seems to give Four a weakness to fire!

The EXIT door... The entrance to the rabbit-hole...

Strange trees. I don't fully know why these growths populate this area and beyond, as they don't seem to have any sensing function such as taste buds or stomach cilia, but I believe they were the first creations Four practiced on when constructing his inner world... he does think about himself quite often.

LAYER ONE: The Classrooms

Starting with a simple algebra classroom, Layer One is a seemingly endless collection of rooms down a long, winding network of hallways that range from other typical classrooms, to portals to areas outside of the EXIT, and even strange, nonsensical collections of things that are.. well... according to Pencil, "don't deserve a description"...

This layer was the only one accessible to the EXITors for months on end before Liy decided to take a peek behind the curtain... Since I believe the EXIT's vast characteristics were created from personal aspects of Four, it makes me think of just how much Four keeps hidden away about himself... Why does he like school so much??

LAYER TWO: The Fourest

Feeling claustrophobic? Take a trip to the scenic and expansive Fourest! I consider this a bit of a "hub" of the EXIT, as it seems like the most widespread place to put different entrances to other, deeper areas, as well as, of course, the pathway out...

Compared to the classroom, this area is the most "organic" in terms of literally being comprised of Four... The classrooms themselves contain a percent of material created from his own body, but it seems a lot has been taken from outside and placed within... This area, however, is pretty much all him. its thanks to this area that I was able to take some small samples stuck to the EXITors clothing.. and i am SO excited to study it! Ahh!!

LAYER THREE: Below...?

[can you tell this is when mod's hand started to get tired/lh]

The descriptions I got from Match, Liy, and Stapy were pretty... odd... to say the least for this wacky pocket dimension, and its certainly where my knowledge of the EXIT seems to come to a close, as the closest the EXITors got to any deeper level was this strange little castle full of even stranger secrets.... You must admit, Four might be cruel but he has an eye for architecture!

Out of the other layers, this one seems to be a combination of both Four material and outside material, making me wonder if this is where Four keeps his best kept secrets or... maybe even his insecurities?

ADDITIONAL NOTES:

Oh yeah... I heard about this... thing that some of the EXITors encountered... From what I know it seems to be simply another part of Four rather than a thinking creature of its own, but it's certainly hard to say!

I'd like to give a thank-you to Pencil, Match, Stapy, Liy, David, and 8-Ball for your contributions to my research!!

...and an apology to Bracelety, Dora, and Firey Jr for er... bringing up such a frustrating and-- well... traumatic event for this information--

...While I must admit I don't enjoy the fact that the EXIT left these fellow contestants a pretty awful impression of algebraliens, I really am glad we have them back!!

PHEW!!! Now that I have most of my information on the EXIT finally on here, time to get back to some of the other questions I got!!

#this took me so lo n g i hope yall enhoy ourhtidgg #xfohv #tpot #asks #tpot 11 #bfb four #tpot gaty #gaty tpot #the exitors #bfdi #osc #osc community #osc art #object show fanart #algebraliens #algebralien

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mister-qi · 7 months ago

Text

Mr. Qi Friendship and Romance Mod: 4/19 Progress Update

It's a working title, I'm trying to come up with something less wordy that still will pop up in Nexus searches.

I wanted to be able to track my progress, mainly for myself, but if you're curious, this is the state of the mod right now:

Writing:

Heart Events - the 2 heart event is fully written (with blocking directions), and the 6, 8, and 10 heart events are outlined. The 4 heart cutscene currently has me a bit stumped; I have ideas, but nothing concrete yet. I definitely now understand why Sam's 4 heart cutscene is him dropping an egg. 14 hearts is on the back-burner as a little treat to myself once I get further into things.

Generic Daily Dialogues - about 1/3 done, probably the highest priority for writing. I'm leaving his vanilla casino dialogue as the two heart dialogue, and the vanilla Walnut Room dialogue as his four heart dialogue, with a few small changes. And, since it's me, I have more marriage dialogue written than anything else...

Day-Specific Dialogues - very few written, lower priority. Hoping to have a lot of these made eventually, and I have plenty of ideas, but they aren't necessary for the core of the mod so they're on the back-burner for now.

Gift Dialogues - all 5 generic gift response dialogues are written, with an additional 22 dialogue lines for specific items/groups of items. I'm also up to around item 530 in figuring out what item corresponds to which dialogue/whether or not he likes it. Certain item groups, like cooked food, still need more lines, however. This is definitely something that should be low priority, but also something I'm really enjoying working on. Some personal favorites so far are-

[if given a fish (hated)]: "Eugh, it's all slimy..."

[if given a legendary fish (disliked)]: "If you must give me one of the rarest fish in the valley, can you at least wrap it so I don't have to touch it with my bare hands?"

And I think that's pretty funny.

Art

Portraits - 3 new portraits finished: "deep frown" "glint" and "glasses-less". I'll probably be messing with "glasses-less" for a looong while; it's first shown at a dramatic moment so it needs to look good. Blushing portraits are next on the docket.

Here's "glint" btw, with a background thrown on so I can have a custom icon. You know I gotta make him do the anime glasses thing a few times.

Sprites - no progress yet. Walk cycle is up next after I finish the blushing portraits. Did you know he doesn't have a walk cycle at all? [1.6 spoilers] in the cheated Summit cutscene where he attacks(?) you, he literally just slides at you very fast. Anyways, I may also change his map sprite a bit as well, since it was drawn to match his old portrait and doesn't actually have the same color scheme as his sprites. Note to self: is it possible to make the sparkles on his outfit prismatic?

Maps - no progress yet. The 6 heart and 10 heart cutscenes both require custom maps, with the 6 heart one being a fully custom asset. 10 heart recycles some existing assets but will still need some custom stuff done as well.

Misc Sprites - in my head, there's a dream version of the 8 heart cutscene that has so, so many unique sprites. Like an incredible amount of stuff. I think it'll kick ass, but also that sequence could be done with a few lines of text. So, for now, it's low priority. But maybe in a few months I'll put out a request for help.

Implementation

Not totally sure how to split this into sections yet, as I'm very much still in the preliminary stages so far. To say that I'm feeling overwhelmed is an understatement; documentation on the wiki swings wildly between "an asset is a file in a video game" and "this is an advanced tutorial. Read these 4 other pages first before continuing."

I've started using Ms. Coriel's NPC Creator which has been good for setting up the basic file structure, but ultimately doesn't cover some of the more complex stuff I want to do. EDIT: Turns out it's completely outdated for 1.6! Had to throw out a bit of work, but I still learned from it so it's fiiine.

I think setting up his "schedule" will be a challenge, in that I don't actually want him to have a real schedule like most NPCs. Not to pull back the curtain too much here, but I want him to "exist" in both the Casino and the Walnut Room simultaneously, which is to say, he does not exist in two places at once in the narrative, just in the code. This will change after marriage, however.

My next goal is to set up placeholder cutscenes for each of the heart events, and then to implement the generic daily dialogues once those are finished.

Final Notes

God, this will be a work in progress for a while, but I'm enjoying it! Definitely enjoying the writing more than anything else, but hey, that's how it be. I've got around 70 lines of dialogue written, a bit of art done, and I've started learning how to actually get stuff in game. I've always been more of a designer than a coder, but it's getting there!

ADDITIONALLY I've decided that if I abandon this project for more than 8 months, anyone is welcome to request my work so far and use it for their own mod. If this blog hasn't posted in a long while, feel free to send me an ask or message! I may say no, however.

Ultimately, I want this mod to exist in some fashion. While there is an existing one, I have a pretty different take on the character and I want to share it with you all! Every line of dialogue, every heart event, every little detail needs to share something interesting about a character and their world. Yet, Mr. Qi is a mysterious guy, and I think some things should be left up to player interpretation. And I think it's crucial to be able to match his tone and voice to the vanilla game, while also expanding on his characterization. It's a fun challenge to write, and I hope the finished product, uh, well I hope it gets finished mostly, but I think it'll be pretty good.

Thanks for reading all this. This is largely just a stream of consciousness for myself, but I hope it's...interesting, or something?

#MrQiFAR #mister qi #mr qi #sdv modding #rambles

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writingquestionsanswered · 1 year ago

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Prompted by the anon who asked about becoming an author with little writing practice. What are your personal thoughts on writing with a goal to have a paycheck? Including a genuine interest in writing, of course. I've dabbled a little bit in writing, and I always wanted to be published, but I imagined this would happen later on in my life. I'm currently unemployed and have been ghosted and rejected everywhere for over a year now. I'm starting to get a little desperate, and I'm looking at publishing a book as the better option now... but I'm in no way practised enough to be thinking about that. What's your take on it?

The Realities of Making Money with Writing

I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but writing--in any capacity--is not a viable solution for when you're unemployed and need a paycheck. It's actually very hard to make a living as a writer, and that's even more true for inexperienced writers...

Writing in a paid position, such as a staff writer for a magazine or newspaper, is the most viable way to make money as a writer. However, paid writing positions are limited in number and highly competitive. You typically need to have the writing experience and credentials to qualify for the position, and if you don't, you're probably not getting a position that pays the bills.

Traditional publishing is not a great goal if you're looking for a paycheck. Not only does it typically take years of writing, querying, and rejection before you get a publishing deal (if ever), once you get that deal it's not the cash cow you may think it is. First, advances for debut authors can be as low as a few thousand dollars and are rarely above $10k. While that may sound like a ton of money, especially when you're unemployed, remember you're paying taxes on that, so what you actually get to keep is significantly less. Then, whatever that amount is will be broken into two to four equal payments. So you're either getting a few grand that has to last you six months or so, or you're getting about $1500 that has to last you a few months or so. In today's economy, neither amount goes very far. It'd be like having a job where you make $500 a month. You'd likely do better with a job at a fast food place. And once you get a book deal, it's going to be at least a year before your book is published and for sale, so it's going to be a while before you're seeing royalties. Even then, most books (even traditionally published ones), don't sell enough copies for the author to make a living wage. Most authors who're able to make a living wage either have a wildly popular book or a backlog of reasonably popular books. Debut authors don't usually make much money.

Self-Publishing is a terrible goal if you're looking for a paycheck. First, self-publishing a book that sells well requires most people to invest a little in their book. Professional cover art, professional editing, and advertising are just a few of the places where self-published authors routinely invest in their own books. While it's possible to self-publish a book for free, you really have to know what you're doing in order to pull it off successfully. Self-published books are hard enough to sell with professional covers, excellent editing, and paid advertising. You won't get far with an amateur cover, bad editing, and inadequate advertising and promo. Self-publishing is also not something you should be considering if you describe yourself as someone who has "dabbled in writing" and "not practiced enough to think about publishing." Self-publishing is a serious industry composed primarily of serious authors who have put in the time, effort, and practice to hone their craft and create quality books. Every time someone half-asses a book in hopes of a windfall, it damages the collective reputation of serious self-published authors.

Furthermore: even if you are an experienced writer who writes an AMAZING professionally edited book with a gorgeous cover, and you put a ton of effort and money into marketing your book, you are still probably not going to make enough on one book to pay the bills. The way to make money via self-publishing is by writing a volume of great books that sell well so you can make money on your backlog. Many authors also do things to diversify their revenue stream, such as offering courses, workbooks, critique and editing services, etc., but these are not things inexperienced writers should be offering.

So, if you're someone who has "dabbled in writing" and are looking for a way to pay the bills right now, writing isn't it.

Instead, you need to look for another job right now and keep writing in your spare time. Read a lot of books, write a lot of stories and novels that will never be published. Hone your craft. Then, when you've got a lot of stories under your belt and have critique partners and beta readers swooning over your fiction--then you can self-publish your debut novel or try querying again. Just remember that, even then--even when you've put in the time to hone your craft--neither traditional publishing or self-publishing is guaranteed to be a windfall that pays the bills. Most authors have a day job.

Best of luck on your journey! ♥

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 7 months ago

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AITA for not wanting my friends to visit?

(English isn't my first language and this might be too long)

I (26 X) live in a different city from a bunch of friends who constantly travel here due to concerts and other massive events (think at least twice per year). I've always tried being welcoming in the past bc I too used to live in a much smaller city and wished I could attend concerts on a more regular basis, plus I've been friends with people in this group for more than 10 years, so I tend to be comfortable around them in almost any situation.

One friend (26M) from such group has recently moved in with me, and we've been roomates for almost half a year now, however I noticed the number of request to coming over and staying has exponentially increased since he moved in last year (think at least one person every two months and the number of days increasing to up to one week when previously they used to stay not more than four).

Normally, this wouldn't bother me considering that they are all common friends, but recenetly I've been going through a particular depressive episode where all I want to do is not being bothered by anyone in my own house (my roomate being the exception since I'm used to him being there) and I've been having trouble getting along with the more often visits. While adding the fact that since my friemd moved in, everyone just sort of stoped directly asking me if it was okay to stay and just asking the roomate instead and making him tell me.

I've expressed my fatigue to my roomate, along my dislike of not being considered as an essential part of the plan when other friends prepare their stay, I've been certainly feel used by them while also being aware that my depression fuels any negative feeling that crosses my way, but he and the others have reasurred me that it's just easier to bother him with such details since they know I'm not doing so well. I've agreed with their plans nonetheless thinking I could get better or just ignore them, but there's this big concert next month where a bunch of people are coming to stay for over a week and I'm just feeling overwheled thinking about it.

There is one particular case that troubles me the most as a guest, bc since other friends might just be a little draining, she (24F) and I used to be in some sort of "situationship" about a year ago that never really went anywhere and while we put some distance we did end up in relatively good terms. I've been told multiple times that I can't throw away this long friendship just because I caught feelings at some point and while I can act normal around her in public, there's just this terrible dreadful feeling of imagining her being back in my house as though nothing has happened.

The three of us (her, my roomate and I) used to be the closest from the group of friends and as such I've allowed him to invite her over (mind you, a completly diferent city) while I've been away, but can't stand the idea of her being there at the same time as me. My roomate has told both of us we ought to patch things down (so everything can be as before) but every instance we've tried to talk I've just been convinced I want her less and less inside my house.

This should be pretty obvious for me, but I've gotten to a point of avoiding my own house for weeks bc depression keeps telling me no one wants me there and I'm the problematic one while not wanting to upset my roomate (it is also his house afterall) or the other friends who keep making plans to visit, with my irritable mood and also being reminded that THEY have no problem with me and its okay if I need to take my space.

AITA if I'm considering completly shuting down all visits for a what's left of the year despite people having made plans since last year and (inderctly) telling me said plans with anticipation? I just don't know what else to do but changing most of these people plans when I'm feeling bad all the time around other people and not being able to properly express that in a way where everyone don't just think I'm a resentful toxic ex and that my problem is just with one person.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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fandomtherapy44 · 4 months ago

Text

Castiel x reader Chapter 16

Summary: SEASON 5 WHOOOO!!!!!!!! LET's GO! So I am so excited for this season so many great episodes. There are going to be a lot more Cas and Y/n scenes. And more chapters too. I do recommend that you read my first book so you get the full Y/n Winchester build-up. Okay with out further due enjoy the second book of Love War and Grace.

Paring: Castiel x reader

word count: 4.4k

Warnings: Some language, Typical Supernatural violence, Spoilers for season five of Supernatural, Guns

AN/ Hey Ya'll so I did notice that it's been a month since I've updated this series sorry for that. This is the longest I've written in a while so that's part of the reason why it took so long. Anywho hope you enjoy especially Cas's and Y/n Renion.

Chapter 16: Good God Ya'll

POV: Y/n “Alright, it looks like you can go home.” The doctor said while putting her supplies away. “Great thanks doc.” She stops and seems to peer into my soul. “You know I have never seen a heart attack like yours I mean you're twenty-four, fit, don’t smoke it just doesn’t make sense.” Yeah I know but it's not like I can tell her that Angels exist and that they all pretty much hate me. “Uh yeah crazy.” I walked to the door. “You must have a guardian Angel.” She jokily said. Oh, you have no idea.

I stepped into Bobby’s doorway to his room he was in his wheelchair just staring out the window. “Hey, what did the Doc say?” Sam asked me. “All good thanks to Cas.” Speaking of him where the Hell is he. Dean comes to us carrying an envelope. “It's been like three days now?” Sam and I both sighed. “We got to cheer him up. Maybe I'll give him a backrub.” “Dean” Again Sam and I both said. “Look...we might have to wrap our heads around the idea that Bobby might not just bounce back this time.” I mean he’s right this kind of news you don't just get drunk and forget about it.

“What's in the envelope?” I nod at the paper. “Went to radiology.” He pulls out the X-ray. “Got some glamour shots.” It was his ribs and it had Enochian engraved in his bones. “Is that why I feel like I have the worst heartburn ever.” I pointed to the picture. “Yup, curtsy of Cas apparently no demon or Angel can find us” Okay does not mean him too? Then Sam’s phone rings. “Hello? ...Castiel?” CASTIEL! “Speak of the devil.” “Ah, St. Martin's Hospital. Why? What are you—Cas?” Cas had hung up on Sam. And the Angel walks up to us. “Castiel…” I just got lost in my thoughts staring at him.

“Y/n I'm glad to see that you're doing well.” That’s it! He must have something on his mind. “Cell phone, Cas? Really? Since when do angels need to reach out and touch someone?” Dean questioned. “You're hidden from angels now—all angels. I won't be able to simply—” He tried to explain. “Enough foreplay.” Bobby announced from his chair. “Get over here and lay your damn hands on.” “I can't.” What? “Say again?” He spun in his chair.

“I'm cut off from heaven and much of heaven's power. Certain things I can do. Certain things I can't.” What about me then? “You're telling me you lost your mojo just in time to get me stuck in this trap the rest of my life?” I can see Castiel is sad that he can’t help. “I'm sorry.” “Shove it up your ass.” I feel terrible for Cas and Bobby.”At least he's talking now.” Dean commented to Sam and me. “I heard that.” “I don't have much time. We need to talk.” Cas directed to Dean. “Okay.” “Your plan to kill Lucifer.” “Yeah. You want to help?” “No. It's foolish. It can't be done.” Cas does really not have any fucks to give.

“Oh. Thanks for the support.” “But I believe I have the solution. There is someone besides Michael strong enough to take on Lucifer. Strong enough to stop the apocalypse.” We are wondering who he’s talking about. “Who's that?” “The one who resurrected me and put you on that airplane. The one who began everything. God.” Okay God right I mean why not. “I'm gonna find God.”

Dean closes the door so people don’t think we're insane. “God?” “Yes.” “God.” “Yes! He isn't in heaven. He has to be somewhere.” Cas sounded so sure. “Try New Mexico. I hear he's on a tortilla.” Dean said and poor sweet Cas did not get the joke. “No, he's not on any flatbread.” “Listen, Chuckles, even if there is a God, he is either dead—and that's the generous theory—” “He is out there, Dean.” “—or he's up and kicking and doesn't give a rat's ass about any of us.” Cas just glares.

“I mean, look around you, man. The world is in the toilet. We are literally—at the end of days here, and he's off somewhere drinking booze out of a coconut. All right?” “Enough. This is not a theological issue. It's strategic. With God's help, we can win.” he really believes. “It's a pipe dream, Cas.” Cas gets very close to Dean. “I killed two angels this week. My brothers. I'm hunted. I rebelled. And I did it, all of it, for you, and you failed. You and your brother destroyed the world—and I lost everything, for nothing. So keep your opinions to yourself.” Damn, I don't think I've ever seen Cas like that before.

“You didn't drop in just to tear us a new hole. What is it you want?” Bobby voiced. “I did come for something. An amulet.” A necklace? “An amulet? What kind?” “Very rare. Very powerful. It burns hot in God's presence. It'll help me find him.” “A God EMF?” Sam questioned. “Well, I don't know what you're talking about. I got nothing like that.” Bobby shrugged his shoulders. “I know. You don't.” Cas turns to Dean. He looks down at Dean’s necklace. “What, this?” “May I borrow it?” Cas asked politely.

“No.” “Dean. Give it to me.” Dean is silent, he looks at me and I nod my head. “All right, I guess.” He takes it off. And hestionly gives it to Cas. “Don't lose it. Great. Now I feel naked.” Cas now has the necklace. “I'll be in touch.” He goes to walk out of the room. “CAS wait up!”

He is very quick on his feet I guess having wings would help with that. I caught up to him and grabbed his wrist to pull him into a room ironically it was the chapel. We just stood staring at each other a little. I couldn't believe that he was here. I finally shake out of my trance-like state. And go to hug him tight like he would disappear in my fingers. And he does the same. “Cas were you really …. Dead?” I say right next to his ear. An answer came that I never hoped to hear.

“Yes.” A tear slips down my cheek and I squeeze him harder. We let go of each other slowly. We sat down on the pews. “So do you really think God will help us?” “I'm here aren't I” I sigh and process everything. “Ok, we will get God’s help then.” “Y/n do you really believe in this plan?” He wasn't just asking as a tactic to win this war but as my friend.

“I believe in you Cas yes God brought you back but you are the one who is fighting actively with us so no matter what remember that.” “Thank you Y/n, I must go start the search.” “Ok but now that you can’t just pop in where I am please use your phone that I gave you for that very reason” I finish with a smile. He gives me one back and files off.

When I was gone Rufus had called Bobby sounding really in trouble and something about Demons. We drove up to this bridge in Colorado and it looked like a tornado had walked through. “This is the only road in or out.” Great. “Looks like we're going to put those scout skills that we never learned to use boys. Let’s Go!” I grabbed my pack and gun and we were off.

We walked into the town slowly and lets just that tornado had walked over and full on ran through. Cars flipped over store doors open … blood in lots of places. Sprilikers on for hours. I had been in haunted places before but I have never felt a chill in my body like this. We are checking out this car when we hear a gun cuck and we turn around. It’s Ellen.

“Ellen hey!” I go to hug her but she raises the gun to my face. Dean gets in between us. “That’s far enough.” “Ellen, what the heck's going on here?” And in response, she throws holy water at Dean. I have to hold back my snicker. “We're us.” He says annoyed, whipping off his face. We walked to a church where the survivors of whatever happened held up. When Ellen knew we were safe she threw herself onto me first for a hug. When she hugged Dean and she pulled back she slapped him.

“You can't pick up a phone? What are you, allergic to giving me peace of mind the only one to call is Y/n. I got to find out that you're alive from Rufus?” Dean seems surprised by her care. “Sorry, Ellen.” “Yeah, you better be. You better put me on speed dial, kid.” “Yes, ma'am.” All of us go to the church basement and theirs a demon trap in front. “What's going on, Ellen?” I ask. “More than I can handle alone.” “How many demons are there?” Sam asks in almost bewilderment. “Pretty much the whole town, minus the dead people and these guys.” Holy shit Demons are having super bowl parties.

“So, this is it, right? End times? It's got to be.” Ellen states. “Seems like it.” Sam replies back. Ellen knocks on the door and the makeshift peephole cover gets moved. “It's me.” Someone opens the door and we're let in, the people in here look like they've been through… war. They all look normal and one of them is pregnant. Peachy just peachy.

“This is Sam and Dean, Y/n. They're hunters. Here to help.” A guy who looks like he's the most confident out at of everyone comes up to us. “You guys hip to this whole demon thing?” “We have some experience.” I answered laughing inside. There was another man in glasses sitting at the table who looked especially like he had seen something. “My wife's eyes turned black. She came at me with a brick. Kind of makes you embrace the paranormal.” Yeah, I would too.

“All right, catch us up.” Dean told Ellen. “I doubt I know much more than you. Rufus called. Said he was in town investigating omens. All of a sudden, the whole town was possessed. Me and Jo were nearby—” What? Now that’s a surprise. The last time I knew she would rather have Jo be a Barmaid than a hunter! “You're hunting with Jo?” “Yeah, for a while now. We got here, and the place—well, the place was like you see it. Couldn't find Rufus, then me and Jo got separated. I was out looking when I found you.” Well, that’s great.

“Don’t worry Ellen we’ll find her” I touched her arm in a comforting way. She gave me a small smile in return. “Either way, these people cannot just sit here” Sam said looking at everyone. Especially the pregnant woman. “We got to get them out now.” “No, it's not that easy. I've been trying. We already made a run for it once.” “So we just reverse the plan-” Ellen stopped me. “Sweetie we used to have twenty.” My eyes widened. “Well, there's four of us now—” Dean tried again.

“You don't know what it's like out there. Demons are everywhere. We won't be able to cover everybody.” “What if we get everyone guns?” Sam suggested. “Sam you want to give walking nursery over there one she won’t make it five feet without going into early labor.” I said to him hoping to slap some sense into him. “More salt we can fire at once, more demons we can keep away.” Of course, it didn’t work when did my brothers ever listen to me!? “Fine everyone but her I'll carry two guns” I could tell Sam was ashamed but he was right, unfortunately. Dean broke our tension.

“There's a sporting goods store we passed on Main on the way in. I bet they got guns.” “All right. You stay. We'll go.” Sam said to Ellen. “What about—” I pulled Ellen into a hug. “Ellen if she’s out there I promise to bring her back.” She had tears in her eyes but kept them back to be strong. “Thank you Y/n.” I squeezed her arms and followed my brothers.

We stop outside the door well Dean stopped us. “Why don't we just go?” Dean directed to Sam about him and I. “What? Just you and N/n?” Sam clapped back. “Well, yeah. Somebody's got to stay here and start giving them Shotgun 101.” “Yeah. Ellen.” Sam starts to go but Dean stops him again. “No no no. It's gonna go a lot faster if you stay and help, okay?” “While you and Y/n split up to go get guns and salt and look for Jo and Rufus? That's stupid.” “Dean We’ll be okay.” “Thanks N/n.” But Dean was stubborn. “You don't want me going out there.” Sam realized. “I didn't say that.” “Around demons.” “I didn't say that.” “Fine, then let's go.” Sam stopped upstairs and Dean gave me an uneasy look.

Dean and I had gone to go look for Guns while Sam was getting salt. “Ok come on let me have it.” Dean said to me. “I don’t know what you're talking about.” I looked at the shotguns not looking up at him. “Y/n I know you, your silence speaks louder than your words so spit it out.” “Dean, I can't tell you how to feel about this.” “But you're judging me.” “No, I'm not.” I put the bag of guns on the table and filled it. I could tell he was still thinking that.

“Dean I think you're feelings about this whole demon blood situation is right but Sam deserves our sympathy with him.” “But he!-” “I know what he did I was there. But he’s our brother and I am going to choose to believe that he can handle this and if he can’t then I'll be with him every step of the way.” I stopped to take a breath. “I hope you choose that too.” I picked up the bag and walked out.

We went to the store to check on sam and when walked in the scene was not good. Sam was bent over a body looking at the blood dripping off the blade like it was liquid drugs. “Sammy?” He drops the knife.

The basement air had grown stronger with tension more and more the longer we were stuck down here and now seeing Sammy Dean was on edge. Teaching everyone shotgunning quickly is harder than it sounds. “Miss, can you show me?” It was the pregnant woman. “Mahm what’s your name?” “Caddy.” “Caddy, do you know the gender and name?” she smiled looking down at her bump, and that right there I knew I wouldn't be able to live if I let her out there. “A girl and her name will be Andra”

“That’s a beautiful name and Andra is the reason why I can't let you go out there.” She looked shocked. “But I can fight.” “I know you can Caddy but if you got hurt then you may never know your kid and I won't allow that.” She sat down tears in her eyes. “I'll fight for you double-fisting it so don’t worry the demons will get it no matter what.” I tried to add a little humor to it. “Thank you.” “Don’t mention it.”

“I'll be back.” I overheard Ellen say. I got straight up. “Where are you going?” “I can't sit here on my ass. My daughter's out there somewhere. I'm not back in half an hour, go. Get these people out of here.” Before I can say anything Sam speaks up. “No, wait. I'll go with you.” “Whoa, hold on. Can I talk to you for a second?” My two brothers walked out. And I could hear the arguing. Suddenly the door pops open. Dean is up against the wall and Sam is holding him there. “If you actually think I—” Sam was getting emotional and they were talking about the demon blood.

With Sam and Ellen gone the pastor was reciting prayers like crazy. And Dean was thinking, walking back and forth. Someone pounds on the door Dean goes to open it and there is Ellen. “Ellen, what happened Where's Sam?” I asked, seeing her state telling me that she had taken a punch. She doesn't answer me and just sits down.

“They took him? Demons took him? Oh my god. What if they're in here? The demons?” Caddy got very worried. “Caddy don't worry they can't get past that door.” I pointed. Dean grabbed a shotgun and was going to leave. “Everybody sit tight. I got to—” He glanced back at everyone and saw their faces and knew he couldn't leave them like this. “Okay, we need to get a plan together. Tell me everything.” He sat down and tells the pastor and he gave me a nod of his head like, don’t worry.

“Guys, one of them's in Jo. We got to get it out without hurting her.” Well, now it's personal. Ellen snorts, laughing at something. “It called me a bitch.” “Ok no offense Ellen but I've been called worse because I took the last hot dog at seven eleven,” I responded. “No, that's not what I meant. It called me a black-eyed bitch.” Dean and I hear and either these demons are looking in mirrors or something fishy is going on.

“What kind of demons are these? Holy water and salt roll right off. My daughter may be an idiot, but she's not stupid. She wears an anti-possession charm. It's all kind of weird, right?” Ellen commented putting the pieces together. “The whole thing's off.” Dean finished. “What's your instinct?” Mine would be call Cas but I know he’s trying to look for God or whatever. “My instinct? My instinct is to call Bobby and ask for help. Or Sam.”

“Well, tough. All you got's me and N/n, and all we got's you. So let's figure it out.” “You know I agree with Ellen Dean.” “All right.” “Ellen do you know why Rufus came was there a specific sign or?” I asked. “He said something about water. That's all I know.” Water? “Padré, you know what she's talking about—the water?” Dean asked the pastor. “The river. Ran polluted all of a sudden. Last Wednesday. And the demon thing started up the next day.” Interesting. “Anything else anything at all?” “Maybe, but it's pretty random.” “Trust me Austin in this life nothing is random.” he takes in my own words. “Shooting star—does that count?”

The three of us look at each other in knowing. “Real big. Same night. Wednesday.” “That definitely counts.” Dean goes over to the bookshelf and grabs one of the many Bibles. And flips through the pages till he finds the right one. “"And there fell a great star from heaven, burning like a torch, and it fell upon the river, and the name of the star was Wormwood. And many men died."” I leaned down on the table thinking about it.

“I don’t know about you guys but that sounds like a giant ass warning sign of the apocalypse.” “Y/n’s right.” Dean agreed with me. “And these specific omens, they're prelude to what?” “The Four Horsemen.” The pastor responded. “And which one rides the red horse?” Dean questioned. “War.” war!? War. “Dean that sweet ride that was parked on main street the red Mustang.” I pointed out and he shook his head in agreeance. “If War is a dude and he's here, maybe he's messing with our heads.” “Turning us on each other.” Ellen concluded. “You said Jo called you a black-eyed bitch. They think we're demons, we think they're demons. What if there are no demons at all and we're all just killing each other?” I asked everyone in general to everyone.

“So now you're saying that there are no demons and war is a guy.” Austin vocalized and he was right, our lives sound like they were ripped from a cheesy early two thousand TV show. “You believed crazy before.” Dean voiced back. Then there was another slamming on the door. It was Roger which is weird because I don't remember leaving. “I saw them, the demons. They know we're trying to leave. They said they're gonna pick us off one by one.” “Wait wait wait. What?” Dean proclaimed our thoughts.

“I thought you said there were no demons.” “Austin there's not, okay.” I told him. “I thought someone should go out and see what's going on!” Oh come on! If I did not know about the supernatural world I would be pissing my pants right now! “They're gonna kill us unless we kill them first!” Roger responded in panic. “Guys please hold on!” “No, we got people to protect. All right, the able-bodied go hunt some demons.” Austin said straight back at me. He grabbed the shotguns.

“Whoa whoa whoa. Slow your roll. This is not a demon thing.” Dean tried to stop him. Out of t the corner of my eye, I see Roger twist a ring on his finger. Fuck it's him. “Look at their eyes! They're demons!” He pointed at us and I'm sure we looked like demons. Caddy gasps. No no! “Caddy!-” But before I could get another word out Dean pulls me out of the room and a gunshot almost hits us.

“Okay this is plan you and Ellen get Jo and I'll get Rufus.” Dean whispered to us. We nodded and went to them.Ellen sets off the bomb. Jo walks a little close to window and Ellen grabs her and pins her to the wall. Of course she tries to fight. “Now you listen up, Joanna Beth Harvelle.” Ellen pulled the full name card. “Jo its us!” “Get off of me bitches!” “Jo if we were demons we would have disaboled you by now!” I try to reason. She listens. “N/n?” “Yes!”

Now both of them didn’t want to kill us we could talk. “We all on the same page?” Ellen asked. Rufus and Dean nod. “Good.” “Hi, Jo.” “Hey.” Ok sensing tension between these two I'll pin that for later. “Okay, we got to find War before everybody in this town kills each—” Gunshots. Everyone ducks. “Damn it! Where's Sam?” Dean yells. “Upstairs.” I let him go, I had a feeling that Caddy needed help. They have the horseman and I have the people.

Ellen and I tried to sneak out to the battlefield but it was pretty hard with bullets flying through the air. “Caddy! Caddy, you have to get out of here!” “No, you're a demon!” “Caddy if I was a demon I would want you out here!” she was going to say something else but I saw a person behind her holding a handgun.

“CADDY!” I push her out of the way and a bullet goes into my arm and I'm pushed back on the ground by the force. I don’t even have time to look at my wound before the guy gets on top of me with a knife. He’s about to stab me in the heart but I catch his wrists before he can slam down. I'm slowly losing strength and the knife is slowly going down. I’m sorry guys, Cas.

The blade is about to go in my chest when the guy stops. “What the fuck!!” He gets off. “Yeah me too dude.” I breathe deeply. “Y/n! Are you okay?” CAddy asked me. “Nothing a little dirt won’t fix.” I simled to hide my pain. “You saved me.” “It was nothing.” She pulls me into a hug. “Yes, it was.”

It feels surreal to be at such a wonderful beautiful place when the day was so ugly and stressful. I was sitting at the picnic table with my brothers twirling the ring in my hands. “So, pit stop at Mount Doom?” Dean broke the silence. “Dean—” “Sam, let's not.” “No, listen. This is important. I know you don't trust me.” Dean looks away and I nudge him to bring him back. “Just, now I realized something. I don't trust me either.” We both look at him.

“From the minute I saw that blood, only thought in my head...and I tell myself it's for the right reasons, my intentions are good, and it, it feels true, you know? But I think, underneath...I just miss the feeling. I know how messed up that sounds, which means I know how messed up I am. The thing is, the problem's not the demon blood, not really. I mean, I, what I did, I can't blame the blood or Ruby or...anything. The problem's me. How far I'll go. There's something in me that...scares the hell out of me, Dean Y/n. In the last couple of days, I caught another glimpse…” “So what are you saying?”

“I'm in no shape to be hunting. I need to step back, 'cause I'm dangerous. Maybe it's best we just...go our separate ways.” I think he's right if he needs time. “Well, I think you're right.” Dean responded and Sam and I were both surprised. “I was expecting a fight.” “Me too.” “The truth is I spend more time worrying about you than about doing the job right. And I just, I can't afford that, you know? Not now.” I feel like Dean is still avoiding his feelings but that's up to him. “I'm sorry, Dean.” “I know you are, Sam.”

“So Y/n which one of us do you want to go with. I thought for a minute and then I came back with an answer. “I think a little separation will be good for us all to sort through our own feelings without anyone else's opinion mixing in our own.” I want Dean to really think by himself. “Where will you go?” They both ask me. “With Ellen and Jo if they are okay with that.” Sam stands up and hugs me. “But you better still call me that threat could still happen.” I tease. “You too Dean.” “Yeah, I know my little sister can kick my ass.” He said as he hugged me.

Jo and Ellen are packing up a truck. “Hey, N/n came to say goodbye?” Ellen asked. “Um actually the opposite and I totally understand if you don't want to but I was wondering if you had space for an extra hunter for a while.” Ellen throws me a pack in response. “Well come on we just got word on a possible vamp nest in Texas.” Jo smiles and we get in the truck. I roll down the window and just hope that this time apart will bring us together.

AN/ Hope you all enjoyed and don't worry the siblings will be back together soon enough. See you Ya'll next time Xoxo Gossip Girl:)

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