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greta-van-chaos · 2 years

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Come Out and Play

Jake Kiszka x Reader

Warnings | Explicit sexual content, cursing, unprotected sex, the sweetest fucking smut ever you're gonna want to claw out your eyes, pining i guess?

Word Count | 3.1k words

Authors Note | Hey hey hey there, it's been a while... clearly taking hiatuses is gonna be a thing with me so haha oops but anyways, i'm gonna work through all of my requests and half written works now until i need to material! this one hurt so much to write... hope it doesn't hurt as much to read.

To say you have a crush on Jake is an understatement. You are completely and utterly in love with him and you've known it from the very first second you ever laid eyes on him. Jake is kind and generous, always putting others before him while asking for nothing in return. He's insanely talented and intelligent, just the sweetest human being to ever grace this earth. We also must not let the elephant in the room go unnoticed... he's breathtakingly beautiful.

You met the Kiszkas in highschool and grew attached to each in their own way. You and Josh enjoy picking apart obscure films and music, whereas you and Sammy prefer to explore the outdoors and get into the occasional bout of trouble. Danny, practically a Kiszka himself also grew quite close to you, allowing you to be more emotional and vulnerable with him when you can't find solace in the outrageously energetic brothers.

But Jake, Jake is different. You formed a very close bond through music, guitar specifically. It was like sparks flew the very moment you met and began to hang out, slowly finding out how much you had in common and how exciting it was to be able to share such thinly found interests. You fell fast and hard, drawn in by every single part of him, his personality, his wit, his looks, his talent, the way he speaks, the way he walks... everything.

Over the years your crush grew alongside you, developing into the most intense form of love you've ever felt for another person. Why you didn't just come clean and hope the best early on is beyond you because seeing him with the revolving door of girlfriends - which was bound to happen, let's be honest here - not only made you jealous but it hurt you so deeply knowing that it wasn't you he wanted.

Staring at him from across the living room you can't help but study every single feature. You've done it a thousand times but it never seems to grow old, even with how dark the room is you can't help yourself from searching his dimly lit face. He's watching the tv, eyes half-lidded with a sleepy smile on his face, the show he's watching proves to be decent entertainment based on the low rumble of a laugh that grows in his chest every few minutes.

"You might as well take a picture," Danny whispers as he plops down on the couch next to you. Jake, Josh and, Sam have all squeezed in together on the couch opposite you.

"Oh shut up." You slap his arm and cross your own over your chest, moving your eyes back to the tv. After a moment of silence you turn back to him, "It's so bad, Danny... I don't know what to do." Your eyes meet in the darkened room and your nerves ease, Danny is your happy place when you feel like this.

"Why don't you just tell him, then at least it's out in the open." He lowers his voice even further to say this, making sure to keep your secret hidden from the others in the room.

"If he rejects me there's no coming back from it. I think i can go another decade acting like I don't want to marry him and have his kids."

"Jesus Christ y/n" Danny's laugh is so loud that Josh turns his head sharply and he shushes you louder than what could ever be deemed necessary. Lowering his voice Danny's leans down to your ear, "He won't reject you, I know it." That ends conversation, Danny turning away and placing a reassuring hand on your knee.

Within the next ten minutes everyone has made their way upstairs except for you and of course, Jake. You'd wandered into the kitchen to get a glass of water when the episode ended and when you returned he was the only person who remained. Your stomach churned.

"Where did everyone go?" You ask, trying to start up a semi-casual conversation but somehow you know Jake senses your unease. The tension coils, making your chest so goddamn tight you can barely breathe.

"Danny and Sam went to go play some videogames in the attic, Josh went to sleep."

"And what about you?" Your eyes flick to meet his for a brief moment and it's enough to rob you of any and all air your lungs could ever pull in.

"I'm probably gonna go listen to some records, you're welcome to join me."

"I'd really like that."

Something about the short distance between the living room and the stairs to Jake's bedroom makes you queasy. When he stands up you can't help it when his name tumbles past your lips and he turns to look at you.

"Yes?" His eyes show mild concern but he does well to mask it on the rest of his face.

"I need to-- Fuck..." You look down at your feet and laugh humorlessly, why are you doing this right now?

"Is everything okay?"

The dam breaks, you're not sure how or why now is the time to do it but before you can stop yourself you look him dead in the eyes. "I'm in love with you."

The entire house goes silent. It's as if you've fallen off the earth and into a pit of nothingness. His expression is eerily blank and his body is stiff.

"Jake?" You're almost afraid that if you speak too loud he'll shatter like a porcelain dish hitting kitchen tiles.

Still he doesn't speak but then his expression changes, you can only register it for a second before he breaks the silence.

"You never said anything." He says it without malice or anger, only a general observation with a tinge of disappointment.

"I was afraid," You breathe.

"Why?" He looks a little hurt and now your mind is reeling. This is not how you expected this conversation to go at all. Maybe he'd laugh, maybe he would pretend he didn't hear you and walk away, but the look on his face right now... you never would have expected to see that.

"Isn't it obvious? You're way out of my league Jake. I know the type of girls you date, they're nothing like me."

"That's always been the problem." He murmurs but instead of trusting what your ears have heard you sigh.

"I just needed you to know." You match his volume, practically breathing out the words while you fight the urge to cry.

He doesn't speak and you're guessing this is where he walks away, leaving you to sit in your little bubble of rejection, so when he steps towards you you're barely prepared and have you steady yourself by placing your palms on his chest.

"Do you remember the first day of grade nine?" He whispers, pushing you hair over your shoulder.

"Of course I do, we managed to have every single class together first semester and we took the same bus. It was a super weird first day, I saw you everywhere." Your body is trembling against him and he smirks taking your chin and tilting your head up so he has better access to your lips. Yet he doesn't move in.

"That's right and on the way home you--"

You cut him off, drunk on how close your mouths are "--I shared my headphones with you. You told me I was the first person you met that listened to classic rock and that I was the coolest girl in school."

His other hand is now gripping your hip, pulling your body flush against his and without knowing it your hands have found home in his hair. You try to pull him closer but he still doesn't relent.

"I feel the same way about you, y/n"

"Why didn't you ever say anything?" The proximity of his lips to yours is dizzying, you can barely focus on the words coming out of your mouth. A small whine escapes you when the hand holding your chin moves to cradle the back of your neck.

"I guess I was afraid too... you're too good. Always have been, always will be."

The only word you can manage is his name and it fans across his lips, willing him to lean in and close the distance.

When he finally does let his lips meet yours it's sweet and slow, your mouths exploring the new territory and mapping it as carefully as you can, preserving the moment. It feels like pure light is dancing beneath your skin, warming you from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes and the way he's holding you is enough to make you cry. He's being gentle yet holding you so firmly, with so much purpose. It's better than you could have imagined.

Eventually your hands become frantic, gripping his hair, his shirt, his face. You just want him close, as close as you can possibly get him. He pulls away to observe your you and the way his sleepy eyes are cast over your lips makes you melt.

"Please, Jake." You waited so long for this that you would beg until your voice grew hoarse. You want him and you aren't ashamed of it. You try to lead him to the couch but he pulls away again.

"Not here, lets go to my room."

When he offers his hand you take it quickly, allowing him to lead you upstairs to his bedroom. You both go up quietly but when you reach the door Jake pushes you up against it. Apparently he couldn't wait until you were safely inside, tucked away from the possibility of the boys coming out to interrupt.

His hands are holding you still against the door and his lips are attacking your throat. You can only loop your arms around his neck and try to stifle your moans.

Eventually he reaches for the door handle and wraps an arm around you so you don't fall over when it opens. Jake's room is the same as it's always been. Guitar gear strewn all over the floor and atop every surface he could find. There are a handful of oddly placed posters on the walls and ceiling and so many bookshelves its hard to count. It all brings a huge smile to your face.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" When you turn back to the him the door is closed and he looks nervous, cheeks pink and eyes downcast.

You approach him and take his face in your hands, placing a sweet kiss on his lips, "I've never been more sure in my life."

He smiles and your knees almost give out. He's everything you've ever wanted and more.

Jake backs you up, carefully directing you until the backs of your knees hit the bed. You let him lay you down and he kisses you until your down on the mattress. He's trying to be soft and careful but you can tell from the look in his eyes that he's itching to have his hands on every part of you he possibly can.

"You can touch me, Jake. I want you to." You take his hands in yours and guide them to your breasts. He's tentative at first, just getting used to being able to touch you but then he starts kissing you again and his hands travel down your stomach to the band of your pajama pants. You whimper out a plea and he answers by letting his fingers fall further, under the fabric of your pants. They now dance along the edge of your underwear, featherlight.

"Have you thought about this a lot?" He whispers into your neck, "Thought about me touching you here?"

"Yes, Jake. So many nights-- I--"

His hand dips further and your breath catches in your throat when he runs his fingers through your folds.

"Oh my god--" He closes his eyes and withdraws his hand "You're so wet, is this all for me?"

You nod and bite your lip, watching as he slips the very fingers that were just caressing you in a place you never thought they'd venture, into his mouth. Your body acts by itself, lacing your fingers into his hair and pulling his mouth back to yours. You could almost cry, you're so happy, so completely full of love for the man above you. Never could you have imagined that all of your wildest dreams would come true like this... so goddamn easily.

You claw at his shirt, your fingers unable to move as fast as your brain as you try to pull it over his head. He helps you out, sitting back on his knees to remove the fabric. With his chest on display your body goes warm. You sit up and run your hands down his sides, placing kisses to each collarbones and down his sternum to his stomach. A quiet moan shakes out of his when you kiss below his navel, letting your hands work to pull down his pants.

"I've thought about it too, y'know." He says, breaking the haze a little bit to look you in the eyes, nothing but sincerity on his face.

"I really can't believe it Jake... I've spent so long--" You clear your throat, biting back the tears that have been waiting all night to fall. You refuse to let that happen right now. Settling on your words, you speak again, "I have been so in love with you for so long."

"I wish we didn't waste so much time dancing around this." He frowns, caressing your cheek.

"But we're here now. Together. So let's just focus on that." You finally manage to untie the knot in the strings of his pajama pants and pull them down along with his boxers.

The sight of him naked is enough to make you clench your thighs together and your cheeks to go hot. Although Jake is currently between your open legs, keeping them from closing.

"I think this can come off now," He mumbles as he pulls your own shirt over your head. His eyes go wide at the sight of your bare chest and it actually takes him a few minutes to recover.

"You alright, Jakey?" You tease. He huffs a laugh and continues on with removing your clothes, now sliding off your pants and underwear.

Finally, neither of you have a single scrap of clothing on and can admire each other. Jake is so transfixed by the way you look, spread out beneath him that you have run a hand down his arm and whisper his name to get his attention.

"Please don't make me wait any longer." You whine, pulling him in for yet another kiss, although this one is so incredibly gentle that it feels like the first.

"I wouldn't dream of it." Jake places a kiss to your forehead and lines himself up. It's all so intimate, so many feelings are being given closure tonight. You're overwhelmed but it's so worth it to be in the position you are.

He's about to push into you when you look him in the eyes again for the second time tonight and blurt out the words you've been waiting so long to say. "I love you, Jake."

"God--" He hangs his head and laughs, though it holds no humor, it sounds almost pained. When he meets your eyes again they're glassy and you almost regret your words before he speaks again, "I have never loved another as much as I love you."

The rush of adoration causes you to practically lunge forward and you wrap your arms around him, pressing your lips to his, hard. He slowly fits himself into you to a hilt as he kisses you. You're both panting, chests meeting heavily with every breathe. So many years of unspoken words and emotions are unspooling between your bodies. So many years of wanting and hurt, all for it to be put at ease with one single sentence.

He's slow and gentle, feeling every inch of you as if to memorize it all tonight. You continue to kiss, not willing to let each other go in any capacity. The tenderness of it all, the meaning behind the movements of your bodies, it make everything so bright, so vivid.

"Jake-- I need you-- Please--"

"You've got me, love, you've got me--" His words are whispered in your ear before he nuzzles his face into your neck and picks up the pace of his movements.

Already you're writhing and unravelling beneath him, your hips pumping furiously to meet his. Any care you had for the other occupants of the house hearing you have been thrown out the window. You're so transfixed by each other that you couldn't bear to have another thought in your head other than Jake.

The sounds he's drawing out of you are that of which no other love could achieve. You've never felt like this before, not once and now that you have, you're addicted. Although haven't you always been? Jake has always been different, always made you feel like no one else has.

You smile, closing your eyes and getting lost in the rhythm of his thrusts and the bliss of the puzzle pieces finally falling into place. Hot tears begin to fall down your cheeks as you toe the edge of your orgasm, all of the feelings welling and threatening to completely shatter you.

"I'm so close, Jake--" You pant, digging your nails into his back when he bites your shoulder to stifle a groan.

"I wanna hear you-- let go for me and let me hear how pretty you sound--" His words are all broken from how intensely he's chasing his own release and it pushes you over the edge.

Somehow you both managed to cum in tandem, your moans and heavy breathes falling into sync with one another. He carefully lays on top of you, not ready to remove himself yet.

You both just lay there, quietly. You draw shapes on his back with your fingertips and he caresses your arm, occasionally placing the odd kiss to your shoulder and neck.

After a few more beats of silence he lifts up his head to look at you, "So, what changed?"

You look down at him, confusion evident on your face. "What do you mean?"

"What made you tell me, what made this the right time?"

"Honestly, I don't know. I'd say Danny encouraged me but... he's been encouraging me since the beginning." You play your fingers through his hair and he closes his eyes, leaning into the feeling. "It just felt right."

"I'm glad you did. I was so worried I'd lose you if I said anything."

"Never, Jake. Never. I'm with you forever, no matter what."

He nods in agreement and props himself up on his elbows so he can kiss you. For the rest of the night you stay cuddled up under the covers, reminiscing and catching up on all the missed time.

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diary-of-a-simp-beta · 1 year

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My Girly Diary

@miss-boss-bitch has set me the following task in order to become a vapid basic bitch sissy.

I am to keep a diary/blog, that I must update every day. Each entry must cover all ten topics that Princess has chosen for me to write about. The idea is that I spend so much time reading about stuff to put in my blog and writing about it that I have less time for my old boring stuff like video games etc. She also hopes that the way she’s chosen the topics and the frequency means that I will spend so much time on this stuff that I will genuinely become knowledgeable in it, replacing boring make knowledge with it as it requires my brain to find it interesting. She’s also really hoping I won’t be able to stop myself giving an opinion if I hear any of the topics being discussed in a nearby conversation, letting others suspect my girly interests.

If I fail to do a daily entry, fail to cover all ten (or any additional topics given), or do not write an entry of sufficient quality in her opinion, I must pay her a £10 fine or be blocked. I must also write in as girly way as possible so that girly language starts leaking into my vocabulary in my day to day life. So she either gets to turn me into a total super basic bitch for her amusement, or gets to profit from my failures. Either way she wins.

My 10 topics are:

I must write about one of my three role models. @miss-boss-bitch told me to pick three celebrities who I feel would be my role models as a bimbo. Having to write about at least one of them a day with all 3 being covered in a week period will help make me obsessed with them. I have picked the following; Taylor Swift, Ariana Grande & The Kardashians (Semi cheating as 5 sisters on that group but she allowed it)

I must write about a celebrity who is not one of my idols but that I have written about in my diary before. This will help make sure I keep up to date on celebrity culture.

I must write about about a celebrity I have written about before but not written about in over a week. This will help make sure I stay up to date on my favourite celebrities.

I must write about a celebrity I have never written about before. This is to keep my knowledge on different celebrities expanding so that I gain a wider knowledge than just focusing on a certain few.

I must write about a male celebrity or a male I know in real life. This is to keep my mind in what girly girls like: cock. I must emphasise what I like about the male I write about.

I must write about fashion. This is because I need to learn clothes are way more fun than games or films or other stuff. Fashion needs to be my live passion.

I must write about makeup. I need to become an expert on makeup so that I know how to make myself look like a slut for men.

I must write about some girly pop culture; eg TV show or music. This is so I spend time with girly media rather than typical boyish stuff. I am not a boy.

I must write about a girl I saw today that I admire for non sexual reasons. I need to be a good girl and good girls like men, so I need to learn to only admire other girls for their clothes or makeup etc. This will start making me see girls I know as BFF’s rather than trying to impress them by pretending to be a man.

I must include picture, either images if a blog, or cutting scraps and sticking in a diary. This is to waste more time doing girly things and to help me admire the celebrities for being better than I could ever be.

I have been allowed certain leeway for the first few days but from Monday next week, the fine system will enter effect if I fail.

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tellthemeerkatsitsfine · 9 months

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Thoughts I had while watching the 1.5 seasons of Fist of Fun (all I have left to watch is the second half of season 2):

- First up, let's talk physical appearances! Because I know what Lee and Herring look like now, I know what they looked like ten years ago, I'd seen a few brief images of them from the 90s, but couldn't quite remember how they looked in those images. And it is always fun to play "what did some people whose current appearance is familiar to you look like when they were younger?"

This guy looks almost nothing like Stewart Lee as I know him, but there's just enough for him to be recognizable:

You could show me that picture out of context and I'd say "Oh look, a much younger version of Stewart Lee" (actually I think I'd say "Wow, Stewart Lee's let himself go", because I'm very funny like that).

On the other hand, you could show me this picture completely out of context:

and if you were showing it to me last week, before I'd seen Fist of Fun, I'd have said, "Who the hell is that?" You could have told me it's a younger version of a British comedian, and I'd have guessed at least twenty names before I thought of Richard Herring. It looks nothing at all like him. It may be relevant context here to know that I do have autism-related difficulty recognizing faces, I regularly fail to recognize my own friends after they get a haircut, and it's possible that Richard Herring could cut all his hair off and then film something tomorrow and I'd fail to recognize him because I pretty much recognize Richard Herring by his long hair. But seriously, he looked very different.

I'm now on the tenth episode of this show, and I've only just started getting used to their very different appearances so it doesn't feel so jarring every time I see them. For at least the first four episodes, every single time Stewart Lee appeared on screen, I thought of this one Daniel Kitson quote, addressing the way Kitson and Lee are both considered "comedian's comedians" who eschew mainstream showbiz fame. "Have you seen pictures of [Stewart Lee] when he was my age?" Kitson asked in 2011. "He was fucking beautiful. And he has the temerity to play low status with his own TV show?" Every time Stewart Lee appeared on screen, at least until I started to get used to his appearance, I remembered that Kitson quote and briefly thought, "He's got a point." I mean, I may not be usually that way inclined, gender-wise, but I can recongize that objectively, you could get so lost in those eyes that a search party would never find your body.

- On the subject of their appearances, there are a lot of jokes about how fat Ricahrd Herring is, considering the fact that he wasn't fat. I don't mean that defensively or anything, I just mean if we take "fat" as the value-neutral adjective it is, Richard Herring wasn't. He was maybe only very slightly visibly overweight, but did not weigh nearly enough to make the fat jokes make sense (this being an issue in addition to, you know, the questionable ethics of constant fat jokes on TV).

Maybe it's a win for feminism? Women on TV who aren't dangerously medically underweight are constant subject to jokes about how fat they are. Fist of Fun, doing some solid satire on gender-based double standards by doing the same thing to a man. (I'm joking. It isn't a win for anyone. Sorry Stewart, not everyone can look like a movie star like you do.)

- I’ve been told that Lee and Herring didn’t much like the look of season 2, and I agree with them. I really liked the set on season 1, and didn’t realize how much until they came back with something much more polished, and less good, in season 2. However, the set’s not the main source of the humour, and I thought the jokes were at least as good as season 1, the sketches probably better overall.

- The striking differences in physical appearances aside, I think I was even more struck by how few differences there are in the way they talk and act. I can speak more to Stewart Lee than Richard Herring here, just because I’ve seen a lot more of 21st-Century Stewart Lee than 21st Century Richard Herring, so I have more basis for comparison.

I thought I wouldn’t recognize him at all. Not just physically, but as a comedian. He re-invented himself, right? He spent the 90s doing a double act on TV and radio, then quit comedy for a few years, then came back as a lone wolf who operates outside the showbiz world (despite, as Kitson pointed out, putting out DVDs and occasionally getting his own TV shows), who lampoons the comedy community too much to fit into it and blazes his own unique trail too much to imagine him in a double act, or whatever. I thought it would be a novelty, to see Stewart Lee as the kind of guy he was in the 90s, a totally different person.

If anything, it’s been distracting how much that isn’t true. So often, he’ll do something that will pull me out of immersion in the show, because I’m so struck by how much it reminds me of Stewart Lee The 21st-Century Stand-Up Comedian. Stewart Lee has so many distinctive mannerisms – the way he constructs sentences (That is a distinguishing feature, isn’t it? You can recognize Stewart Lee by the way he ends at least half his sentences with a request that you affirm what he’s just said, doesn’t he?), the speed and cadence of his speech (not a lot of complexity to that one, you can describe it with just the word “slow”), the tone of his voice (sardonic, vaguely passive-aggressive), the way he’ll tilt his head and move his face and whole body back and forth a bit while he’s listening or pausing but will stop and change direction before talking, the smirk that he could almost trademark. All of them are exactly the same no matter what century he’s in. All of them are so strikingly present in Fist of Fun that it distracts me while I watch.

I thought it would be so weird to see him in a double-act dynamic, since his stand-up is so reliant on him being raised above everyone else, but it turns out his double-act dynamic is entirely familiar because it is also reliant on Stewart Lee being raised above everyone else. He bullies Richard Herring in the exact same voice he uses to bully the audience in stand-up. Turns out it’s just as funny to watch Stewart Lee be condescending to Richard Herring in a sketch as it is to watch him be condescending to his viewers in a stand-up routine. I guess he just figured out sometime in the 90s that he does condescending very, very well, and then ran with it for several decades.

I don't know enough about Richard Herring's 21st-Centruy stand-up to compare it to his Fist of Fun character, but I do know that "fairly dim, excitable, gullible, unsuccessful, and the lower status one" doesn't exactly seem off-brand for him.

- It’s mildly adorable that Stewart Lee’s whole thing is being sort of “above it all” in which “it” could be basically anything, but Kevin Eldon can fairly consistently get him to break a little bit, or at least visibly stifle laughter.

- Personally, I don’t find Kevin Eldon’s “Rod Hull” character nearly as funny as Stewart Lee finds it, though to be fair to the comedians involved, I barely know who the real Rod Hull is. The parody is probably funnier if you’re familiar with the source.

- Personally, I find Kevin Eldon’s hobby-obsessed Simon Quinlank character a strong candidate for the funniest fucking thing on the entire show. It reminds me of when I used to read xkcd all the time and the “My Hobby” comics were often my favourite – apparently, coming up with strange things to do and labeling them as “hobbies” taps into a weirdly specific bit of my sense of humour. And Kevin Eldon plays him incredibly well. Played every second of it 100% straight, 100% committed to the bit, it’s perfect. I’d watch a whole spinoff with that guy.

- The self-referential stuff goes through cycles of being too much and not funny, but then the fact that they’ve done so much of it becomes part of the joke and it becomes funny again, and overall across an episode, it always averages out to being funny.

- I can’t go father without mentioning Peter Baynham, also a candidate for funniest thing on the show. And really consistent, I don’t think he had a single weak episode. I mean, he had a lot of horrifying episodes. All of them, in fact. But not weak. I don’t know who’s idea it was to have a gremlin play the third in their double act, but it was a great idea (though he definitely fit better into the set of season 1 than season 2) and he was funny every time he was on screen.

- Another thing they sometimes had in this TV show: women. Those women were sometimes played by Rebecca Front, who’s always fun to see. One time (that I noticed) played by Sue Perkins. Sometimes Ronni Ancona, who once stole the show from everyone else on screen playing a vampire. I thought I spotted Doon Mackichen from Smack the Pony at least a couple of times, but Googling doesn’t confirm that she was in it.

However, on the subject of Smack the Pony, their go-to person for when they needed a female character was Sally Phillips. She was in the show a fair bit in season 1, and even more in season 2. And was always funny. The “type” that she’s good at playing (the she often played on Smack the Pony, anyway) – sort of deceptively demure – fits in really well on this show and always makes me laugh. There's something she does with her eyes when she's playing that type of character, no matter what different situation, where she looks up at people like she's confused, that is really funny and really works with pretty well any sketch they've written.

I was caught off guard the first time she showed up, thinking I didn't know she had anything to do with these people. And then I realized... wait, yes I did know that. Because I've watched the not-very-good (wild waste of the talents of Lou Sanders and Mel Giedroyc) panel show Unforgiveable.

youtube

So not to end this post on tawdry gossip or anything, but that clip is fun context for something like:

youtube

I’ve just rewatched that Unforgiveable clip, before posting this, and I’m reminded of how Alan Davies got in a rather uncharacteristically cruel dig at Richard Herring with his “using comedian loosely” comment. It mainly seemed cruel, I thought, because Sally Phillips hadn’t yet said Richard Herring’s name, and it was safe to assume she wasn’t going to. Meaning it wouldn’t make much sense if he was going for “lighthearted panel show banter”, since there was no way for the audience to get his joke, if they never heard the guy’s name. He only said it to entertain himself and the other comedians.

...Not to end this post on even tawdrier gossip or anything, but watching season 1 of Fist of Fun, I was struck by how weird it was that there was a whole plotline dedicated to the idea of Richard Herring desperately wanting to date Julia Sawalha, Saffy from Absolutely Fabulous, and the joke was that he’d never be able to do that. Which is weird because Richard Herring did in fact go on to date Julia Sawalha. As, it occurred to me just now as I watched him be a dick for no reason on a panel show, has Alan Davies. Why do I know that piece of tawdry gossip? I don’t know. I promise I did not seek out that information. You read someone’s Wikipedia page, things come up. I'm genuinely sorry.

- I can’t end this post on that. So instead I will say, as evidence that most of the useless information I collect in my brain is not on the subject of what celebrities slept with what other celebrities in or soon after the 90s, the running joke of Stewart Lee constantly talking shit about Somerset made me picture where Somerset is on a map, to have an idea of how far away from London the place they’re mocking is. Which is, by the way, not far. Nothing is ever far away if you see English people on a television show making fun of people from a different bit of England, it’s tiny. They talk like they’re exploiting these big regional differences, but everything is right next to each other. Google says the biggest city in Somerset is Bath and you can get there from London in an hour and a half.

Anyway, I became briefly concerned when it took me a few moments to remember where Somerset is on the map, and then I realized I’ve not tested this in a while, and I worried that I may have forgotten all that geographical stuff I memorized for no reason during lockdowns. So I took the test again, I’m pleased to say, I’ve still got it.

Correctly labelled all counties in England on an unmarked map, under 1:15. Then I checked the others for good measure, and it's okay, I can still do them too:

So that's good. Would be a problem if I'd forgotten any of the useless information. Anyway, I'm going to go watch the last half-season of Fist of Fun.

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by-kilian · 11 months

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Hello!! I hope you're having a pleasant day!~ For the ask game, I was wondering whether I could hear your answers for 1, 4, 69, and 73?

Hey love! It's so nice to hear from you, I hope you also had a wonderful day! ❤️😘 HAPPY to answer 🤗 below the cut!

do you know how you want the story to end when you start, or are you just stumbling through the figurative wilderness hoping to find a road?

It's a little bit of both actually. I often know exactly how I want my stories to end because I know the story I want to tell. However, I never know exactly how it will happen and that's the exciting part. I often plan and have what I *think* is the best road to the ending when I first outline a story. But as I write more and my characters grow and things happen, oftentimes things change or get scrapped but for the better. I actually recently discovered that my process is not unlike Neil Gaiman's in which he describes it as taking a roadtrip from Miami to Seattle. You know where you're headed but you have no idea what is truly in store for you along the way. I hope that makes sense!

4. what is the plot bunny you’ve been carrying for the longest? optional bonus question: do you ever wonder why you haven’t written it yet and experience deep existential dread?

Ohhh....I can't share. 😭😭😭 LMFAO. Because some of them may come out. They may never come out. I don't know. But I think I mentioned before that I have a habit of sitting on stories for literal years before they come to fruition. They sit in my notes as ideas. And idk I just like to let stories marinate because plot bunnies to me never come as ideas for one-shots, they come as ideas for ideally long stories or stories that at least take more than one chapter to tell. "Open Door" was actually one of these plot bunnies that became an official story just recently. I had wanted to write a story about Erwin trying to mend things with a wife whom he had either already gotten a divorce from or was in the middle of divorcing, but never quite liked it until a few tweaks recently. That sink scene? Sat on that for years. Back to the question though, I prefer to sit on plot bunnies because it happens quite often where I sometimes just like them in that moment. If I revisit it and scrap it, I know I was never that invested in it anyway. On the flip side, if I revisit it and still like it and want to keep fleshing it out or even if I just like to read it and enjoy its basic premise, I know it's a story I still want to tell. And maybe—if we want to wax poetic here—need to tell. I know why I haven't written any of them yet however, and it's just honestly a matter of not having enough time. I don't know if you can tell but I really like to devote myself to every single long-ish story I write. When I feel spread thin with just other things in life, I prefer to keep my writing to one project with occasional one-shots on the side to keep things fresh. I don't experience existential dread over it though because if it's a story I am meant to tell, I will tell it when I'm supposed to. Or it can fly away to another owner and I'm quite content with that too.

69. how do you write emotional scenes? do you ever feel what the characters feel?

I utilize music when I write emotional scenes. It may sound cheesy but it's almost like being a composer scoring for a movie, or being a film editor and choosing juuuuust the right song for the right scene. I actually had a mini assignment to do stuff like this when I took film in high school. We had to take scenes from a movie we liked and pick the *perfect* song for it, and I had such a fun time with it. I picked "The Notebook" and the scene where Allie and Noah lie on the road with each other and giggle and fall in love, and chose the song "Chasing Cars" by Snow Patrol. So oftentimes when I picture scenes, especially emotional scenes, I picture it with music as if you're watching a movie or a TV show. I will loop it 100 times if needed, until the scene is completed and written fully. As for do I ever feel what the characters feel, ALL THE TIME. I've mentioned before that I don't write a single emotionally sad scene for my characters without crying myself. Because honestly if I want to evoke any kind of emotion out of anyone else, I think I have to first do it to myself.

73. how do you visualize scenes? do you see it like a movie in your head, or do the words just flow?

I see it like a movie in my head and then the words flow. ❤️

Thank you for sending in your questions!! I appreciate it <3

#asks #ask games #kw writing questions

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kylesvariouslistsandstuff · 1 year

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Tracking a Post-Walt Top 10 Box Office, Part 2

Part 2... Now looking at the animated movie grosses from 1998-2002... Here is the link to Part 1:

1998

The Lion King - $768m

Aladdin - $504m

A Bug's Life - $363m (NEW)

Toy Story - $362m

Pocahontas - $346m

Beauty and the Beast - $331m

Who Framed Roger Rabbit - $329m

The Hunchback of Notre Dame - $325m

Mulan - $304m (NEW)

Hercules - $252m

1998 is an overlooked year in feature animation, I think. While the early years of Disney's Renaissance (and the 2nd Golden Age of Animation in general) are prominent in discussion of this period in animation, it's worth noting that only Disney was succeeding. After his successes with Steven Spielberg, Don Bluth and his studio had a hard time finding hits with releases like All Dogs Go to Heaven, Rock-a-Doodle, and Thumbelina. Other distributors wanted in on animation, and found themselves making mere fractions of what Disney was easily collecting with nearly every new release of theirs. Whenever Disney didn't go big, they didn't collect much, either. (See: Feature Animation's The Rescuers Down Under, alongside MovieToons' DuckTales the Movie and A Goofy Movie.) There was very little in-between, either your animated movie was some kind of blockbuster or it made less than $40 million domestically. One notable exception here was The Nightmare Before Christmas, an offbeat production released through Disney’s “adult” Touchstone label. (Years later, due to its popularity, it has comfortably been rebranded as a Walt Disney Pictures endeavor. Believe it or not, that was the intention early on.)

Not only does Pixar's sophomore effort crack the Top 3 and Disney Feature has a slight rebound from Hercules with Mulan, but you also had a few notable entries outside the Top 10 that weren't from Disney: DreamWorks' double-debut of Antz ($171m worldwide) and The Prince of Egypt ($218m worldwide), and Paramount/Nickelodeon's TV-based hit The Rugrats Movie ($140m worldwide, first non-Disney release animated movie to crack $100m domestically). I feel that DreamWorks' success in particular showed that someone could share the space with big bad Disney in a post-Don Bluth world. Disney used to outright murder competition or at least attempt to do so (just ask The Swan Princess and Anastasia), here comes an animation studio from one of their former moguls with a chip on his shoulder... History made.

1999

The Lion King - $768m

Aladdin - $504m

Toy Story 2 - $485m (NEW)

Tarzan - $441m (NEW)

A Bug's Life - $363m

Toy Story - $362m

Pocahontas - $346m

Beauty and the Beast - $331m

Who Framed Roger Rabbit - $329m

The Hunchback of Notre Dame - $325m

And here we see Pixar really rising, not only making the first animated feature sequel that surpasses its predecessor at the box office, but also landing in the Top 3 once more, second only to those two Disney mega-hits of the early 1990s. Disney Feature scores their highest gross since Aladdin with Tarzan. Other than Toy Story 2 and Tarzan, 1999 was a sadly dry year, box office-wise. Outside of the Pokemon movie's notable success here, we saw Warner Bros. dump The Iron Giant while other films simply just come and go. The only other notable performance was the South Park movie, which collected a decent gross for a TV-show based animated feature, like Beavis and Butt-Head Do America before it.

2000

The Lion King - $768m

Aladdin - $504m

Toy Story 2 - $485m

Tarzan - $441m

A Bug's Life - $363m

Toy Story - $362m

Dinosaur - $349m (NEW)

Pocahontas - $346m

Beauty and the Beast - $331m

Who Framed Roger Rabbit - $329m

Only one movie cracks the Top 10 here, and a Disney hybrid spectacle kind of movie at that. However, this was also the year Aardman's Chicken Run (co-produced by, and released in the US by DreamWorks) became the domestic champion for a non-Disney release animated feature, and it also cracked $200 million worldwide. Great for a feature with its reasonable budget, for a stop-motion film, and for a non-Disney, even if it didn't make it into the Top 10. Otherwise? Most of the animated movies released in 2000 straight up bombed: Fantasia 2000, Titan A.E., The Road to El Dorado, The Emperor's New Groove, etc.

2001

The Lion King - $768m

Monsters, Inc. - $529m (initial release) (NEW)

Aladdin - $504m

Toy Story 2 - $485m

Shrek - $484m (NEW)

Tarzan - $441m

A Bug's Life - $363m

Toy Story - $362m

Dinosaur - $349m

Pocahontas - $346m

So now we have an animated feature that topped Aladdin and sits nicely in 2nd place, nearly a decade after that film was first released, and it was none other than the latest Pixar film. It looked like Pixar was seeing an upward climb, up a mountain of momentum, much in the same way Disney was in the early 1990s. Then you have DreamWorks' Shrek, a fairly edgy comedy that seems to scratch the itch of audiences who had gotten tired of Disney Feature Animation's way of telling stories - both familiar and unfamiliar (their action-adventure Atlantis: The Lost Empire bombed this same summer), in addition to just about everything else, even DreamWorks' own efforts. Pretty historic duo, and DreamWorks proves with this CG comedy that they are likely here to stay, despite some earlier struggles.

2002

The Lion King - $783m (2002 re-release total added)

Monsters, Inc. - $529m

Aladdin - $504m

Toy Story 2 - $485m

Shrek - $484m

Tarzan - $441m

Ice Age - $383m (NEW)

A Bug's Life - $363m

Toy Story - $362m

Beauty and the Beast - $362m (2002 re-release total added)

The new competitor, Blue Sky Studios, jumps right into the ring nicely with Ice Age, while re-release totals are added to the then-current record holder, and another as well. But the question remains, will The Lion King finally be topped?

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starzz9318 · 1 year

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The way to prompt STARZ.COM/STARZ.COM/spark off

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keep

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#Starz.com/activate

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joshjacksons · 3 years

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1 Screencap from each Joshua Jackson movie/tv show 💖💖💖💖

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just-another-blog-of-fluff · 3 years

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The Price of Teasing a Trickster

Word count: 4050

Warnings: ABSOLUTELY RUTHLESS ler!Loki (oops, sorry 🤷‍♀️ I just couldn't help myself). Oh, and suggestive themes, given the plot is around the Rocky Horror Picture Show.

Sick day = extra time for me to write 😉

This was certainly a unique request to write, but I had fun doing it! This came from a prompt sent by an anon requesting a night where you and Wanda watch the cult favorite comedy horror film, the Rocky Horror Picture Show, getting really into the songs and quotes. Then Loki happens across the pair of you and finds your enthusiasm to be entertaining.

If you haven't watched the film, I kept the specifics to just the beginning of the movie to avoid spoilers. It's a very... unique film, with suggestive themes, so please don't go searching for it young minors. The fic itself is completely SFW as always!

“Are you two sure you don’t want to come bowling with us? It’s going to be quite the show!” Tony tilted his head toward Thor, who was animatedly discussing the rules of bowling with a nervous-looking Bruce.

“Yeah, we’re sure. My wrist is still acting up, wouldn’t want to injure myself, especially outside of a mission… how embarrassing would that be?” you quipped, massaging your wrist for dramatic effect.

“And I can’t possibly leave them here by themselves! I’m happy to keep them company,” Wanda added, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “You guys have fun, enjoy yourselves!”

“Alright… but if your boyfriend Robocop breaks something, you’ll be getting a really amusing phone call.” Tony winked at Wanda, then turned and followed the others out the door. You and Wanda stood quietly, listening as their voices faded out of earshot. When silence fell on the tower once again, you both turned toward each other with excitement etched across your faces.

“You ready??” she gushed.

“Let’s do this!!” you cheered.

Every year in October, you and Wanda found a night where the tower was empty to pop in your favorite horror movie – the Rocky Horror Picture Show, a guilty pleasure of yours. While some of the others (the human ones, at least) were familiar with the film, none of them shared the same level of enjoyment for it as you two. Sure, many of them found it amusing, but they didn’t have the script memorized. They didn’t sing and dance along with the music. So, rather than subjecting yourselves to the strange looks from the rest of the team while you enjoyed the movie, you simply waited until everyone was out of the tower so you could sing, dance, and recite the lines to your hearts’ content.

The pair of you skipped eagerly to the common room, you taking a seat on the sofa as Wanda set up the movie on the wide screen TV. She plunked down on the sofa beside you, grinning with enthusiasm as the opening credits began.

You were on your feet already as the first song started between Brad and Janet. Each time the creepy family in the background recited their names, you and Wanda looked at one another and recited along with them, giggling every time. You were glad the others weren’t here watching you – they’d never understand the amusement you found in –

“What in the norns are you two watching?”

You squeaked in surprise, scooping the remote off the couch and pressing pause as Loki strode into the room. Your face flushed at his confused, yet entertained expression as he stared at the pair of you. Wanda, however, seemed unphased.

“We’re watching a movie. Until you interrupted, that is.” She placed her hands on her hips defiantly.

“Watching? Last I checked, most people remain seated while watching a film.”

“Loki, why are you still here? I thought you went bowling with the others,” you demanded, trying to sound irritated but unable to hide the flustered squeak in your voice. The smirk that crossed his face told you he noticed, only serving to intensify the heat in your cheeks.

“I had no desire to spend the evening participating in such a trivial Midgardian sport. Not to mention, it’s quite unsanitary. Do they actually sterilize the bowling balls in between uses? Or ever, for that matter?” He scoffed, disgusted. “In any case – you’re avoiding the question.”

“If you must know – it’s called the Rocky Horror Picture Show. It’s a comedy horror movie – a cult favorite from the 1970s. And for your information, it’s a well-known fact that you’re supposed to participate along with the movie.” Wanda finished her explanation, folding her arms across her chest. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we’d like to get back to our movie.”

“Might I join you, then?”

You shot him a wide-eyed look, unable to find the words to respond. Wanda glanced at your face, then looked back at Loki with the shadow of a smirk on her lips.

“Are you going to interrupt every five minutes to ask questions?” she asked warily.

“I’ll keep it to every fifteen minutes.”

“Fine. But we’re going to hold you to that.” Wanda motioned for Loki to have a seat, grinning as you stared at her indignantly.

“You didn’t ask my opinion,” you hissed in her ear as you both sat down on the sofa once again.

“I didn’t need to. I already knew what it would be.” She smirked as your face flushed.

For a little while, you remained a bit quieter than you would have if you weren’t so self-conscious about the God of Mischief watching your every move. Wanda didn’t seem to care, however – she continued to jump up and recite the best quotes loudly. You kept glancing at Loki to try to figure out what he was thinking, but his eyes remained trained on the screen, seemingly unbothered by Wanda’s constant outbursts.

She wasn’t about to allow you to sit quietly forever. As soon as the Time Warp song began to play, she grasped your hands and dragged you to your feet, her eyebrows raised expectantly as she began to sing along. Sighing, you resigned yourself to the music, singing loudly along with Wanda and doing the famous dance to accompany it.

A brief glance at Loki told you he was suddenly paying attention to the two of you; he had a surprised, amused grin on his face as he observed your antics. Your cheeks prickled with heat, but you were invested now, continuing on with the theatrics as if Loki wasn’t watching you.

You and Wanda wrapped up your routine as the song ended, collapsing onto the couch along with the party guests on screen. Loki began to clap his hands together slowly, prompting you to sit up and look at him.

“I must say – I didn’t expect to get a show when I asked to join you,” he noted, a teasing edge to his voice.

“You said you wouldn’t make fun!” you scolded.

“I said nothing of the sort. I promised I’d keep my questions to fifteen-minute intervals. I’ve yet to ask a question.” He leaned back in his chair, observing you smugly as your mouth opened and closed, trying to come up with a retort.

A swell of music on the television drew your attention to the screen once again. The character of Dr. Frank N Furter was making his appearance as the prelude to the next song played.

“Ok, I have a question now.” Loki was staring at the screen, eyebrows raised in bewilderment. You chuckled at his expression.

“Yes – he’s dressed as a woman.”

“No, that’s not what I was going to ask – why does this woman keep fainting?” He gesticulated to the screen where Janet had fallen to the floor. “Has she not seen anything like this before?”

“This was the 1970s. Midgardians hadn’t really gotten as accustomed to this sort of thing.”

“I see.” Loki observed the screen for a bit longer, only turning back to look at the pair of you when you both began to recite the lyrics along with the movie. “Do you honestly know every word in this movie by memory? How many times have you seen this?”

“More than I can count,” Wanda replied quickly between lyrics, jumping right back into song without missing a beat. You nodded in agreement toward Loki, not pausing in your own singing.

Loki was relatively quiet for the next few scenes, merely observing you with an air of amusement. You were beginning not to care so much that he was watching, although you certainly couldn’t help but blush as some of the more… provocative scenes. You expected him to begin asking more questions, but were surprised that he waited until the scene in the laboratory when they were flipping switches and pressing buttons to reveal Frank N Furter’s experiment.

“Are those real machine titles? They sound absolutely ridiculous,” Loki quipped as Frank was giving orders to his servants on screen.

“Of course not – it’s a comedy Loki, haven’t you figured that out by now?” you retorted.

“Yes, well you don’t seem to be laughing at this part.”

“Because it’s not… you know what, never mind.” You rolled your eyes, wondering how he could possibly be coming up with these seemingly nuanced questions when there were SO many other aspects of this movie that warranted questioning. It didn’t matter anyhow – Loki had already moved on as the scene continued to play out.

“Hang on a moment – do you mean to tell me this grand science experiment was to create a human?? Who would want to do such a thing? There’s enough of them already!”

“Hey!” Wanda exclaimed.

“You’re talking to two of those humans, in case you’ve forgotten,” you added huffily. “Also – you said you’d keep your questions to fifteen-minute intervals.”

“Yes, yes, alright…” he griped, shutting his mouth reluctantly. This time, he only lasted a few minutes before another question came to mind. “Tell me – what is the ‘horror’ portion of this film supposed to be?”

“Just wait. And no more questions, I’m setting a timer this time,” you grumbled, setting your phone to go off in fifteen minutes.

There was no need – Loki got his answer shortly thereafter when the murder happened.

You would have been surprised at the fact that Loki decided to remain in the common room for the entirety of the movie, if it weren’t for the fact that he grew more and more amused watching you and Wanda singing along even as the plot grew stranger and stranger. By the time the film had ended, he was genuinely laughing at the pair of you.

“I must admit, that was quite entertaining. Bravo.” He applauded teasingly as Wanda bowed facetiously for him. You merely grinned sheepishly.

“Did you like the movie?” Wanda asked.

“Oh, absolutely not. But I certainly wasn’t bored.”

You shrugged. “It usually takes a few play-throughs to really see the appeal.”

“Well then, I suppose in a few years we’ll revisit this conversation.”

You furrowed your brow, glaring at him. “Who says you’re invited to watch with us next year?”

“If I do recall, I invited myself. Not to mention, I don’t need your permission to sit in the common room. It’s not as though you can force me to leave.” He smirked, rising to his feet. “Now that you’ve cured my boredom for the evening, I’ll be retiring to bed. I’ve no interest in the inevitable idle chatter that is to come when the others return home.” With a nod and a wink, he exited the common room, heading down the hallway to his room.

“Wanda!” you hissed once his footsteps were out of earshot. “Why did you let him stay and watch?? He’s going to tease us for months, years even!”

She shrugged. “It doesn’t bother me. You’re the one that gets all blushy around him.” You shoved her shoulder playfully as she smirked at you.

“On THAT note – I’m taking a page out of Loki’s book and heading to bed,” you announced, bidding her goodnight before retreating to your own bedroom.

The following morning, you awoke fairly early, having gone to bed sooner than you typically did. You lay in bed scrolling through your phone for a few minutes, but the growling in your stomach became too distracting, and so you left your room to seek breakfast. (And coffee. Coffee was essential.)

The only early risers in the tower typically headed straight to the gym in the morning. You were startled, therefore, to hear someone humming in the kitchen as you drew nearer. Holding your breath, you tiptoed closer to the doorway and peeked inside to see who the musical early bird could be. You just barely bit back a noise of surprise when you saw the dark-haired trickster god standing at the kitchen counter preparing a pot of coffee. Even more surprising was the song you realized he was humming to himself.

It was the Time Warp song from the movie last night.

You stood silently in the doorway, listening in amusement. Somehow, he hadn’t noticed you yet – a feat in and of itself, considering he prided himself on being impossible to sneak up on. No way were you letting this slide after he’d spent all evening teasing you for singing along.

As he finished pouring himself a mug of coffee, you sauntered into the room, smirking at the startled god as he finally noticed your presence. His eyes narrowed, scowling at your amused expression.

“I thought you said you didn’t like the movie,” you teased, folding your arms across your chest and leaning casually back against the counter to exude an air of condescension.

“I don’t. I merely have the infernal music stuck in my head,” he countered.

“Mmhmm. And that’s why you were bobbing your head to the beat?”

The fire in his eyes as he glared at you could have burned you from across the room.

“Just as I thought,” you confirmed with a smirk.

“I recommend you drop the arrogant tone, agent,” he growled, placing his mug down on the counter. “You may not like where it gets you.”

“Oh no, I’m so s-scared,” you taunted sarcastically, standing your ground. “Tell me – are you learning to do the dance as well?”

“That’s it.”

Loki suddenly lunged for you, his hands aimed toward what you thought was your sides. Your (unfortunate) instinct was to yelp and wrap your arms around your waist protectively. Immediately, you realized you’d made a dire mistake, the notion only confirmed by the sudden flash of mischief that crossed Loki’s face.

“I was planning to lock you in the closet, but you’ve given me a much more effective plan.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Your heart was pounding in your ears, and you could only hope it wasn’t showing on your face.

“Oh, I think you know very well what I’m talking about.” Without waiting for you to run, he stooped down to wrap his arms around your legs, hoisting you up over his shoulder.

“HEY!” You swatted your hands against Loki’s back in protest. He didn’t even flinch, chuckling sinisterly as he carried you to the common room, flipping you off his shoulder onto the couch and swiftly clambering up to sit on your legs, pinning you down. You swiped at him viciously, but he merely smirked and caught your wrists in his hands.

“Oh… you are in trouble,” he hummed. Your eyes widened as he slowly dragged your arms to rest above your head, pinning them against the couch.

“You think this scares me?” you goaded, feigning a confident smirk.

“Still have some sass in you, I see?” He clicked his tongue, shaking his head pitifully. A cool, tingly feeling wrapped around your wrists, and you were shocked to find that you couldn’t move them even after his hands retracted from yours. “How about now, hmm?”

“How about you sing that song for me again?” you countered facetiously.

“You don’t know when to quit, do you, agent?”

In all honesty, you were deathly curious about what he’d do if you continued to provoke him. It was just such fun poking the bear. And you truly weren’t afraid of him, anyhow. He’d never hurt you – you knew him well enough to trust him. He was just playing a game. So, you were playing along.

“Now then…” he pondered, tugging his sleeves up to his mid-forearms. “Care to tell me where to start?”

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about.” He had yet to actually declare his intentions, it was true. You weren’t about to say anything if he had something else in mind –

“Do I need to spell it out for you?” He suddenly shot his hands out toward your sides again, making you squeak and tense up involuntarily. He stopped just inches away from your sides, tilting his head with a knowing smirk. “I didn’t think so.”

“You think this is going to get me to stop teasing you?” you asked haughtily, swallowing the anxious quiver in your voice. “You don’t know me very well, do you Loki?”

He laughed, a low rumble in his chest. “On the contrary – I believe it’s you who is unacquainted with just how ruthless I can be. You do recall I am the God of Mischief, I hope.”

This whole altercation was making your face feel warm.

“If you’re not going to tell me where to begin, I’ll need to decide for myself somehow.” Loki’s smirk expanded as he let his hands hover inches over your sides, his eyes trained on yours, assessing your facial expressions. You bit the inside of your cheek, wincing when he wiggled his fingers by your sides without touching you. “Oh, dear. You seem to be doing a poor job at hiding your weak spots.”

“Am not.” You bit down harder on the inside of your cheek as he moved his hands up agonizingly slowly, watching you in amusement as he continued to wiggle his fingers just out of reach of your lower ribs, ascending up your ribcage. You were alarmed to feel anticipatory giggles rising in your throat the higher his hands moved, fighting desperately not to let them out knowing he’d never let you live it down if he found out you were air ticklish.

“Tell me, darling – is this bothering you? The unbearable anticipation? The knowledge that I’m able to map out your most vulnerable spots without… even… touching you?” He dragged out the end of the sentence as his hands moved to hover over your belly, so close to touching you that your skin tingled just from the proximity of his fingertips.

He’s not going to tickle you yet… don’t react… don’t give him the satisfaction… You shut your eyes and took a few breaths in and out, but found that not knowing where his hands were made you more anxious, so you quickly opened them once again. He said nothing as he gazed at you with his maddening smirk plastered on his face, hands hovering over your hips now.

“I do hope you’re regretting your decision to poke fun at me.” Experimentally, he scooted back a bit to let his hands linger just above your thighs near your knees, deciding quickly it wasn’t eliciting enough of a panic response in your face and returning to wiggling his fingers over your ribs.

“Ugh, Loki just get ON with it!” you demanded, unsure how much longer you could tolerate the anticipation.

“Why should I, when this is so effective?” He shot his hands up to float over your neck, wriggling just within your line of vision. You shrugged your shoulders up a bit, biting down hard on your tongue. You watched as he moved to let his fingertips drift just above your upper arms, coming far too close to touching the bare skin on your inner biceps.

You broke, light giggles pouring out of your mouth. His eyes shot halfway up his forehead, laughing in surprise at your reaction.

“Really? This is what breaks you?” He retracted his hands, watching you visibly relax, then quickly moved them back to hover over your sides to see if it elicited a similar response. You whined, giggling again when his hands drew nearer to your arms again. “Dear me, agent. Color me intrigued. I’ve never known a person to be exceedingly ticklish here.” The tips of his index fingers connected with the inside of your elbows, trailing gently down to the hem of your short sleeves as your giggles grew frantic.

“Lokihihihi cut it out!” you squealed, jolting as his fingers trailed back up the same path toward your elbow.

“How delightful. I must say, I would never have discovered this spot had you been able to contain your laughter. It’s quite adorable.” He added his middle fingers, ghosting along the hypersensitive skin. You twisted your arms against the magic spell he’d placed over your wrists to no avail, nearly screeching when he decided he’d tired of waiting and began scratching with all five fingers just above the hem of your sleeves. The targeted attack was driving you out of your mind, giggles escalating to desperate laughter as you kicked your feet against the couch cushions.

“LOKI! LO-HO-KI! GOHO SOMEWHERE EHEHELSE!!” you pleaded.

“Begging now, are we?” he tutted, tracing around the skin just by the hem of your sleeves. You actually did screech this time, tears of mirth springing to your eyes. “Have you learned your lesson yet, agent?”

“YEHEHES!!” you nodded frantically, ready to do just about anything to make this stop. It was maddeningly effective – such a gentle, light touch, and yet you were practically crawling out of your skin in ticklish agony. And yet, deep down you really didn’t mind the attention.

“Hmm. I’m not sure that I believe you. But I suppose I can give you a reprieve.”

You sighed in relief when his fingers moved away from that wretchedly sensitive spot, only to start screeching with laughter once again when he dug his thumbs in harsh circles against your upper ribs, his fingertips hooking around to the backs of your shoulders. He was laughing with you now, clearly enjoying how easily he was able to take you apart.

“LOKI!! AHAHAHA I CA- IHI…” Your pleas died on your lips as your laughter grew silent, overwhelmed by the sensation. He let up, resting his hands motionlessly against your sides. “Gohohods Loki!! You… you’re…”

“Ruthless?” He smirked, kneading his fingers into your sides and sending you back into hysterics for the third time. “It’s almost as if you doubted me when I warned you this would happen. Such a shame.”

You’d never doubt him again, you told yourself. If anything, ruthless was an understatement. He was FAR too good at this – knowing exactly where to put pressure and exactly where to pinch or squeeze. You spluttered when his fingers skittered across your belly, scratching and clawing and poking into the soft skin.

“I’M SOHOHORRY! I’M SO-HO-RRYHYHY!! PLEHEHEASE!” As much as you were enjoying this little game, you really couldn’t take any more, feeling as if you might explode if you laughed any harder. Loki recognized the seriousness in your tone, promptly removing his hands from your ticklish torso and waving off his spell on your wrists. Your arms shot down immediately to your sides, rubbing the residual tingles off your skin.

“I do hope I’ve made my point, darling. It’s unwise to tease the God of Mischief.” He gave you a pitying smile, eyes gleaming at the giggling mess you’d become.

“Noho kidding!!” You shoved at his legs, prompting him to get off you so you could sit up and straighten your shirt, running your fingers through your tangled hair. “Honestly, it’s so unfair that you can tease me but I can’t tease you without repercussions.”

“I suppose you’ll just have to come to terms with it.”

“Or I’ll need to find a friend to help me get back at you.”

“Did I hear you say you wanted more?” he asked rhetorically, wiggling his fingers toward you threateningly.

“GODS no! I’m kidding!” you promised. He chuckled at your terrified reaction, smirking with satisfaction. “You know, you don’t have to wait until next year to watch the movie again. It’s a Halloween staple for Wanda and I. We’re happy to watch it again… but only if you help fend off the others if they tease us.”

“Tease you? The others?” He shook his head. “Well, we can’t be having that, can we? Only I can tease you and get away with it.”

“Is that so?” You grinned shyly, looking down at your hands in your lap. “So, does that mean you want to watch it again with us?”

He pondered for a moment. “I suppose I’ll humor you. But you must promise to watch a movie of my choosing after that.”

Your heart skipped. “I guess I can handle that.”

You realized, after you’d finally gone back to the kitchen to finish what you’d started and get breakfast, what the implications of his request were. The implications of his cold mug of coffee still sitting on the kitchen counter. He wanted to spend time with you. He enjoyed spending time with you.

You’d have to thank Wanda later for letting him stay.

#marvel tickle #sfw tickle fluff #tickle prompts #tickle fluff #loki tickle #tickle fic #ler!loki #lee!reader #loki x gender neutral reader

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angry-geese · 3 years

Text

Fluorescent Adolescent

Itadori x Reader x Sukuna

Warnings: sfw. platonic/romantic (interpretable). some minor swearing. mostly fluff. mention of violence. poly (sort of). Gn!Reader

Notes: Yuji and the reader have a movie night together. Sukuna decides to tag along

Nights at home were rare.

There’s not a lot of downtime when studying to become a sorcerer. Gojo was always sending you off on jobs that his students were very much not ready to handle. The line of work doesn't really follow a set schedule. Curses rarely exorcise themselves.

You haven't even graduated and you already wanted to retire.

You wanted to do something to celebrate your time off. Yuji suggested a movie night. You had nothing else in mind, and it sounded nice. The two of you thought about inviting Nobara. Movies weren't really her thing; she had other plans anyway. It wasn't often you got to hang out with just Yuji.

Gojo side-eyed you when you asked to borrow a movie. Your first mistake was asking him. The last time you borrowed one from him, the disc had been switched out with a porno. It took Yuji quite a while to figure out what was wrong. Nobara couldn’t pause the thing fast enough. Whether he forgot, or he did it on purpose, you’ll never know. You have the sneaking suspicion he meant to do it. When you gave it back the next day, Gojo never questioned why Yuji couldn’t look him in the eye.

Maybe that’s why Nobara passed on this one.

Eventually you settled on a horror movie. You're not quite sure what it was about. It looked gruesome. The cover had fake looking blood all over it. Despite being a jujutsu sorcerer, you were a wimp when it came to things like this. In the heat of the moment you could deal with it, but when it came to movies you were squeamish. It didn't matter how many times you told yourself that it wasn't real.

In the other room, the microwave beeps. The smell of burned popcorn fills the room. He likes his burnt; you can't stand the stuff. Two bowls had to be made. Both with a healthy dousing of salt and butter. Not the powdered stuff either; the real kind.

"You're going to miss it!" You call out.

"No I'm not!" Only a moment later followed by: "maybe I am!"

Yuji flings himself over the couch, just in time for the movie to start. Popcorn spills over the sides of the bowl, onto the couch and floor. He shouts "five second rule" before popping one into his mouth. Immediately you tackle him. He’s a bit stronger than you, and easily struggles free. It takes you nearly sitting on him to stop him. You have to pry the rest of the floor popcorn out of his hands like someone fighting their dog for an item it shouldn't be eating.

"Are you going to stop?” You ask. “Or are you going back for more the second I let you go?"

Weakly he nods.

The moment you let go of his wrists he’s lunging past you, reaching for it. In one swift motion you have him under you, pinning him to the floor.

The movie starts off with a creepy looking scientist, and two women stranded in a forest. You admit defeat, and collapse on top of him.

"Man I got hit so many times over this one," he offhandedly mentions.

"What?"

His response is a grunt.

If he says something out of pocket, it's best not to acknowledge it. He could write an entire novel about his life and barely scratch the surface. It’s almost impressive at this point.

It intrigued you, though. There were about a million questions you had for him. Asking one only brought up a hundred more.

The first thing you learned about Itadori Yuji was how he was Sukuna’s vessel. The second thing you learned was that he was going to die.

You were told not to get attached. Against almost everyone's advice, you did. So did many others. Yuji was truly strange. He didn't have the look of a man given a death sentence.

You often wonder how you'd react in his situation. Maybe you'd go to your death with a lot less grace. But there's no way of knowing until it happens. You like to think you'll go out in a blaze of glory.

Your interactions with Sukuna had been few, and only in passing. Aside from stories, you don't have much to say about him. Generally you aren't around when they switch. The one time you were, they didn't stay switched for very long. It still made you wonder. Since they shared domes, could Sukuna see everything that went on in Yuji's daily life? How much control did they really have over each other?

Sukuna would often switch out with Yuji while he slept. You expected that. He was unpredictable, and a bit of a prick. He's the king of curses after all. What more would you expect from a demon? Strangely enough, he never did anything. It wasn’t a proper switch, more like a particular hand or leg was taken over. Sometimes he'd knock things over, or hide Yuji's things, but he was never much more than an inconvenience. The guy could be a menace, sure, but he wasn't nearly what you expected.

He lays his head in your lap. Instinctively your hand finds his head, gently carding through his hair. It's strangely soft. It feels nice between your fingers. Sometimes you wonder if he dyes his hair, or if it's naturally like that. Come to think of it, you've never seen a baby picture- or even a childhood photo.

It's almost horrifying how quickly Yuji began to doze off. You sat there the entire time in wide-eyed horror. Maybe a bit of disbelief. If he feels the way your legs tense underneath him, he says nothing about it. He's snoring in no time. He can't help it, your hands feel so nice in his hair.

Unfortunately, you had caught Sukuna's attention too.

Nothing went on in Yuji's life without Sukuna listening in. Every little detail about his day to day life was known by Sukuna. Most days he didn't care to listen in. Unless there was a fight, or something to piss off, he wasn't interested. He was the first to realize how fond his host was of you. Immediately he started plotting all the ways he could hurt Yuji with you.

That plan was cut short.

He's not sure when it happened. Slowly you became worth something to him. Your strength was promising. If you continued on your path you could prove to be a truly frightening sorcerer. He found your will to fight impressive, albeit naive. At first it was a reluctant respect. You had promise. He could use that. Either against your or against other sorcerers, it didn't matter to him. You'd work in his favor eventually.

There was one moment that stuck out. One where his feelings went from a general distaste to fondness. You were fighting a curse, of all things. Although it didn't hit hard, it could shrug off a lot of damage. It wasn't particularly strong, but it was tough, and smart, proving to be a pain in the ass to everyone involved. With a snap of his fingers he could have exorcised it. But he didn't. Watching you two fight it was much more entertaining. If his host was killed, he'd simply bring him back.

Something went wrong. He's not quite sure what. The moments went by like shots out of a badly filmed movie. One scene. Then cut. Then the next scene. Then cut.

You're clinging onto his arm, asking if he's—Yuji—is okay. You weren't even hurt, but you were soaked in blood.

His feelings for you weren't disgust, or hatred, or even pity. It was something much worse. If he was capable of liking someone, it would be you. Sukuna could never imagine himself feeling this way for a human.

He hates that.

The affection he feels isn't love in a proper sense, but that's the only word for it. A creature like him isn't capable of love. He's the king of curses, he'll never lower himself to the level of humans. He'll never view you as more than a pet, but he cares for you in some sort of way.

Sukuna's affection comes out as bullying. Well, as much as a lone mouth can bully someone. You've learned to tune him out or brush him off. He's harmless around you. Yuji seems to keep him on a short leash. His bark is far worse than his bite. At least to you. You really can't say that for any unfortunate bastard that decides to piss him off.

Jokingly, you began referring to Sukuna when talking to Yuji. It was only to make him roll his eyes. Everyone hated when you did that, because usually Sukuna would respond. You tried to see how long you could get him to talk before he realized you we're screwing with him. It usually took a while.

Yuji's snores have gotten awfully quiet. The movie is less terrifying than you expected, but it makes your stomach churn. His eyes are open when you look down. They aren't Yuji's; they have a different look in them. Sukuna’s eyes have no humanity in them at all.

Both sets of Sukuna's eyes are focused on the TV. You're not quite sure when they switched. He made no show of it. One second he was Yuji, the next he wasn't. His hand rests on your knee, his thumb gently rubbing across your skin. He feels a bit colder than Yuji. You can’t help but wonder if it’s a curse thing or just a coincidence.

You try not to stare for too long.

"This is boring." He says. "You find this scary? Let alone entertaining?"

He doesn't like seeing you distressed, even if it's directed at something that isn't real.

"Yes, thank you," you say.

Maybe if you keep scratching his head he'll stop talking.

"Why do you like these? Clearly you don't like being scared." He says.

"Keep talking and I'll stop playing with your hair."

His sharp nails dig into your skin. "No."

"Then I suggest you stop talking,"

He sulks. It’s almost impressive how quickly you get him to back down.

He's a bit like a cat; the second your arms are tired and you need to rest, his fingers are digging into your skin. He doesn't want you to stop. The moments where he wants affection are ones where you can't—or don't want—to give it to him.

It's almost a competition between him and Yuji. His host is always so open with how he cares for you. You’re very affectionate towards each other. You’re affectionate towards all your friends. He finds it sickening. He wants your attention to be on him and only him. Yuji is only competition. Unfortunately for him—and you too, let's face it—they're a package deal. Sharing isn’t exactly a skill he has.

He shifts so he's sitting up, his head resting against your chest. Your heartbeat drops off for a second, before picking up in pace. You rest your chin on top of his head. Your hands find his hair, brushing it out of his eyes.

It's not long after his breathing evens out.

His head nods, eyes half shut, gaze still on the tv. You're so warm, he notes. He doesn't remember human contact feeling this nice. However hard he tries to fight sleep, it's no use, he can't stay awake for much longer.

For now, he would settle on sharing you if it meant he could have moments like this.

#jjk x reader #itadori yuji x reader #yuji x reader #sukuna ryoumen x reader #sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #fluff #poly #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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hyunjilicious · 3 years

Text

a helping hand [henry cavill] - part 2

A/n: I’m sorry it took me so long. I don’t like how this part turned out, at all, but I rewrote it 3 times and I can’t even think about these scenes anymore without getting annoyed. I’m just happy it’s finished and that I can start working on part 3 (that is, if you like this one enough to want to keep reading lol)

Summary: After you post on onlyfans a video starring another man, Henry decides to take matters into his own hands. (cameo: Steve Rogers) KINKY 4k

Warnings: spanking, daddy kink, dirty talk, mentions of smut and masturbation (male), humiliation/degradation kink, groping, mentions of porn and filming pornographic material, stalker-ish/obsessed Henry. (also tumblr crashed when I first tried to upload this so maybe that a sign this sucks)

You can read part 1 here!

The sight brought down a storm upon Henry's mind. He stood there, mouth agape, watching the screen, unable to believe his eyes. It was one thing to post videos of yourself on the Internet, but to have someone else take part in them was too much. At least for Henry. Still smart and composed, he realised there wasn't anything he could do about it, but nevertheless, he was determined to not let this shit slide for much longer.

As much as he wanted to hunt down that man who dared put his hands on you, Henry gathered himself, took a deep breath and closed the onlyfans page. He was perfectly aware that just the right amount of you could get him to lose his sense of control and do things he'd later regret. Still, in desperate need to see you, he grabbed his phone, eyes scheming over your socials, only to see that the last time you had been active was 7 minutes ago. So, without much consideration, he started typing.

"You up?"

"Yep. Finishing up an essay. Coffee in 30??"

Oh, and how deeply that hurt him. "Of course" he sent you, and then checked again the post you made at 3am. '...I'll go to sleep right now, edit it for you when I wake up...'

You were lying? Why were you lying to him? It drove him insane. Henry felt like he couldn't sit down anymore, like he had no chance to catch his breath. He couldn't think straight, so he wasn't really to blame for what he did next.

Henry's fingers flew over the keyboard, accessing Facebook and logging into your account, desperate to see whether he could find out who the man in your video was. And it was as easy as it could've been, considering your last 5 conversations were with the girl friends he already knew about. But somewhere among them, he spotted an unfamiliar name - Steve R., and instantly clicked and opened the conversation. His blood started to boil when the multitude of emojis you sent reached his eyes, but he scrolled up, until he found the beginning of yesterday's conversation.

It was started by you, and with a request. You were blunt and went straight for it, asking him with just one message to be in the video with you. There was no trace of your relationship with him on the Internet, so Henry had no idea regarding the nature of yours and Steve's connection. Judging by the way you addressed him, he could easily assume the man was nothing more than a fuck buddy. Even though it angered him, Henry kept his calm and decided to go about this with care. It would only be a matter of time until he removed Steve from your life. But for now, he just had to keep digging for information.

Steve R.: "Exactly what do you need me to do, baby? Spank you? In front of the camera? Are you serious?"

"Yes, Steve. Come on!! I know we haven't seen each other in a while, but still... 😇 when it comes to these things, you know me better than anyone"

Henry scoffed. Who the fuck was this guy?

Steve R.: "I know, baby"

Steve R.: "What's in it for me?"

Smoke came out of Henry's ears, and the fact that you acted so sweet and innocent made him want to smash his keyboard.

"Whatever you want! Just do this for me!!! Please!!!! 🥺😊😋"

Steve R.: "Ofc I'll do it, sweetheart. I got you"

"Thank you thank you thank you 😘"

Steve R.: "I should be the one to thank you"

Steve R.: "Send me the location and I'll be over there asap"

After that, your address followed and then that was it. Determined to dig deeper, Henry started to scroll up again, wanting to find out as much as he could about this mysterious man. He didn't get a chance to lurk too much before this computer alerted him of a notification, the onlyfans tab glowing orange. His attention was instantly won, smiling devilishly as he checked the content.

Posted 30 seconds ago, was the new video. Ready to kick back and enjoy, Henry pressed the play button, ready to go at it with an open mind.

He reluctantly accepted the fact that there was another man in it with you, but he decided to enjoy it nevertheless. The video started, displaying Steve seated on the couch, thighs suggestively parted. He had a pair of black dress pants on, dangerously stretched over his massive thighs. A white, elegant shirt hugged his visibly sculpted torso, the top two buttons undone to show just a hint of chest hair. Quite a sight, but all Henry saw was trash. With his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a silver watch on his wrist and a pinky ring on, Steve patted his thigh, cueing your entrance.

When Henry saw you, he felt his breath reach a new, sudden level of difficulty. With the shortest of skirts barely managing to cover your ass and a mostly see-through shirt on your top half, you made your way to him in such an angelic way that Henry couldn't believe his eyes.

You looked like happiness personified, and it came in such a painful contraction to what you were about to do, that it twisted Henry's mind in such a perverse way, his cock nearly twitched just by seeing you.

When you were about to bend over Steve's thigh, he grabbed your chin and stopped you mid action, his lips slamming against your as his free hand lewdly caressed your ass. He flung the skirt over your hips, your flimsy underwear on full display.

Attentive to the events unfolding on the screen, Henry found his cock, teasingly rubbing it over the material of his pajama pants. His mouth watered when he felt the sensibility in his tip, actually believing this would be easier than he initially anticipated.

"Are you going to be Daddy's good little girl, or do I have to make this fucking hurt?" Steve asked and Henry almost threw up.

"Yes, Daddy. I'll be good" you mewled, wiggling your feet.

"Let's see" the man menacingly chuckled, releasing a sharp slap against your ass that made you yelp out in pain.

At this point, about 30 seconds in that was, Henry was already losing his mind. It was as if you took a trip inside his dreams and decided to play out his fantasies. The only problem was that you did it with another man. It was next to impossible for him to keep this going.

"Can you count?" Steve taunted, his hand traveling all over the back of your thighs, your exposed ass and between your legs.

"Yes, Daddy" you eagerly nodded and Henry almost threw up.

"I wouldn't be surprised if a dumb slut like you didn't know how to" Steve chuckled, "But it's ok, that's how we like our girls. Dumb and pretty"

"Thank you, Daddy"

Henry couldn't believe his eyes. He refused to accept the fact that a random man got to play with your innocence like that. You were his sweet little girl. And if until now he pushed through heroically, when literal yelps of pain started erupting from your lips as the blonde man slapped your ass hard enough to rock your whole frame, Henry's blood ran cold.

But no matter how hard the jealousy had hit him, the video was still pushing his limits of self control. It was still what he always wanted to see. When he reached inside his pants and grabbed his cock, a low grunt of early satisfaction left his lips. He once again found himself picturing you, willing to please him, but this time, he didn't get to go too far. The buzzing sound of his doorbell rang through his apartment, and he never stood up faster.

Cock still hard and completely visible through his pants, Henry slapped the pause button and minimized the browser, before springing to his feet and rushing to the door.

"Henry!" you exclaimed as soon as he came into view. He looked somehow tired, but it was easy to tell there was something else bothering him. "You didn't answer your phone" you pouted.

"Yeah, sorry" he shook his head, a few sweaty curls falling against his forehead. "I was busy with something. What's up?"

You raised your eyebrows and pointed to the door of your apartment, "You said you'd come over? Coffee? Remember?"

"Oh, shit, yeah" Henry cringed, rubbing his forehead. "I'll be over in 10 minutes, that ok?"

"Sure" you beamed, completely oblivious to the way he just tried to get rid of you. With utter nonchalance, you pushed your way past him and strolled into the kitchen.

"You wanna wait here?" he muttered.

"Yeah... Is that a problem? I can leave..."

"No, no" Henry eventually sighed and rushed over to you. He cupped your cheeks and kissed your forehead. "Wait here, I'll be right back"

And that was what you did. You silently sat down, grabbing a bag of chips you found laying around, and settled to wait. And maybe, a few seconds passed where nothing devious came to mind, but as time ticket itself away, boredom got to you. First you stood up, and padded to the hallway, looking around. There was almost nothing new over there, but it still felt so homey you absolutely loved to inspect every detail. The TV in the living room was turned off, a couple of pizza boxes on the floor and his DVD cases laying around - absolutely nothing interesting.

You sighed and plopped down on his couch, folding your legs under your body, ready to flip through the channels on TV until he'd decide to join you. Nothing seemed of interest, being bombarded with news and fishing programs. "Old man" you thought to yourself, before opening up the menu in search for something less depressing. A wave of nostalgia hit you when you came across a Spiderman marathon, and you were done for. Maybe one full episode passed until Henry walked out of the bathroom, but you were nowhere near ready to leave.

"Look what's playing!" you beamed, pointing to the screen. Henry raised his eyebrows in amusement, his shoulders shaking as he softly laughed at your unusual choice of entertainment.

"Are you serious? Cartoons?"

"Yes!" you scoffed, extending your arms and gesturing for him to join you. Although reluctant at first, Henry agreed to sit and watch the show with you, but not before brewing some coffee first.

When he returned from the kitchen, two steaming mugs in tow, you shuffled to the side and welcomed him on the couch. He brought you close against him, draping his arm around your body. With your head resting on his shoulder, you sipped your coffee, eyes glued to the TV. "You seriously never watched these as teen? You were 11 when it came out."

"I did" Henry laughed, rubbing his hand up and down your side, "I was in love with Felicia Hardy"

"MJ was so much better!" you shook your head disappointed, "You have no taste"

"No need for that" Henry threatened, his fingers exploring their way down your body. The way he trailed his hand across your hips and thighs made you squirm, smiling to yourself as you shuffled closer to him.

Henry was more than happy to reciprocate, kissing your forehead and squeezing you tighter.

And just like that, you didn't care about Spiderman anymore. You flung your leg over Henry's lap, all but crawling on top of him. The episode was still playing in the background, but none of you was paying attention anymore. Henry wrapped his muscular arms around your frame, eliciting a soft moan from your lips as you pushed your hips down against his thigh. His hands traveled lower, exploring your body with delicate but greedy strokes.

As you let yourself get carried away with absolutely no worry in mind, Henry knew exactly what he was doing. And considering how easily you let your guard down, he had you right where he wanted.

When you hid your face in the crook of his neck, your nose rubbing across the slope of his collarbone, Henry's right hand found your ass. You froze for a second, but his gentle caress helped you relax again in an instant. With his lips against the top of your head, he allowed his fingers to sink into your flesh. Your whole frame stiffened as you gathered a handful of his hoodie into your fist.

"What's wrong?" Henry cooed, grabbing your chin, "You ok?"

"Yep" you whimpered, and then winced again as he squeezed your ass once more. "I'm good-" you lied, cupping the side of his neck into your palm as you crawled higher up his body, your lips right against his ear.

As weak as he was for you, Henry stood his ground. If you wanted to play this game, he'd do it, but he wouldn't let you win.

"Does this hurt?" he asked, roughly groping your ass.

Jumping slightly from the pain, you still managed to shake your head, blurting out another lie. "... no"

"What about this?" Henry teased, grinning widely as he shoved his hands inside your leggings, under your panties.

The urgency of his touch made your eyes open wide, your back arching as you tried to push yourself off of him.

"Does it hurt, darling?" he continued, keeping you in place with ease.

Defeated, you sighed and lowered your gaze, "A bit" you mumbled.

"Just a bit?"

"Henry-"

"Did he fuck you good?"

Your mouth fell open. "What- no, I didn't- we didn't do anything-"

"Didn’t do anything?" Henry grinned, his perfect teeth showing as he proudly pried information out of you.

"I just... fuck-"

Seeing no way out of this one, and eager to stop hiding, you pushed yourself back. Henry's hands left your body as you sat beside him, and he watched you curiously, patiently waiting for you to word your thoughts. "I just filmed a video for my page, that's all" you bowed your head.

"What kind of video?" Henry questioned.

His demeanour was so relaxed, he was right in his element, unlike you, who were riled up to the extreme. "A spanking video-" you cleared, awkwardly fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

"Did he spank you good?"

His hand found your hips again, and you leaned into his touch, nodding your head yes as you were too embarrassed to actually word your answer.

"Then show me"

He was dominant and stern, and even if you wanted to, you felt like saying no wasn't an option. Henry didn't wait for your permission as he grabbed your waist and pulled you up to your knees, chuckling softly to himself when he saw you shyly smile down at him.

His fingers curled around the waistband of your leggings, forcefully pulling them down your thighs. "Come on" he urged you, softly guiding you to lay down across his lap, your ass barely covered by the pinkish and slightly unflattering underwear you had chosen for the day.

Henry's breathing picked up at the sight, and so did yours. You watched him over your shoulder, his fingers tracing over the bruises Steve left on your bum the night before.

"Henry-?" you whimpered, the anticipation building up in the pit of your stomach becoming too much to bear.

"Yes, darling?" he cooed, leaning down to the side to kiss your cheek. His stumble tickled your skin and you whimpered when his hand made its way between your legs.

You felt his fingers against your opening and involuntarily clenched your thighs around him, hiding your face in the cushions of below your head.

"Tell me" Henry pushed, teasing your folds and clit over your underwear.

"Nothing, I-" you cried, making him chuckle.

He loved giving you a taste of your own medicine. He straightened himself up and grabbed your ass into his hands, squeezing until you yelped out in pain. A soft laughter of approval escaped his throat as he bent down and pressed his lips to one of your cheeks, applying lingering kisses over each and every single bruise.

The way he took control of the situation and handled your body, turned you on to no end. For whatever reason, being exposed like that for him, waiting for any kind of judgement to leave his lips, you were getting more and more riled up by the second. You were done for. You did your best not to moan with need, but little did you know that was exactly what kept you from being thrown onto the floor and fucked into oblivion. Just one single sign was all you needed in order to break his self control, but you didn’t have it in you to do it.

But he didn’t say anything, instead just keeping you on your toes as he had his way. You were dripping through your underwear, and judging by the bulge in his pants that pushed up against your belly, you knew he was on the same page as you. But again, he didn’t allow things to go further. Everything about this moment pointed in the right direction - the teasing, the touching, you were all but whimpering in his lap, but he cut the moment short with a sharp slap against your ass before he helped you up. Henry acted as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened as he pulled your leggings back up, but this glare became colder when he found your eyes.

He bent down and spoke into your ear, "He could've done a better job"

Completely under his spell, you bit your lip and furrowed your eyebrows. "I don't think I would have been able to take any more"

"That's not what I said" Henry shook his head.

"Look at you being an expert" you teased, relishing in the fact that he seemed eager to keep things going.

"All I'm saying is that if you had asked someone else-" Henry laughed, stroking your cheek, "Things would have turned out much more different"

"Oh" you pouted, ready to tease him further. "Who should I have asked-"

Just when you started getting comfortable and confident enough to push things further, Henry's phone rang. "I don't have to take that" he shook his head when he heard you stopped talking.

"Just see who it is" you giggled, slapping his shoulder.

Before doing so, Henry grabbed your chin and kissed your forehead, his touch drawing you in like a magnet as you leaned into him when he pulled away. With a sigh, you eventually crawled off his lap and then your face fell with disappointment when Henry showed you the screen of his phone.

"Yeah?" he huffed after picking up, his boss being the last person he wished to talk to right now.

You watched him closely as he listened to whatever the man was saying, and almost whined out loud when Henry frowned annoyed.

"I'll call you back in 5, ok?" he asked and after a couple of seconds hung up.

"I'm so sorry-" Henry sighed, turning to you, "I gotta go take this, there's a problem with one of the radars, I need to go see if I can fix it remotely"

"Sure thing" you shook your head. "But please tell me you don't have plans tonight"

"I don't" Henry leaned towards you and again, kissed your forehead. As much as you loved the sweet gesture, it was now more than ever that you craved something else entirely.

"And please don't forget about me again" you giggled, grabbing his biceps and stopping him from leaving without a promise.

"I won't" he sighed, "I'm really sorry about that. I'll make it up to you"

"However I want?" you beamed and licked your lips.

"Absolutely" Henry smiled, sweetly embracing you before walking you to the door.

You had his word now, and you were planning on making it count. There was no way either you or Henry would act as if nothing had happened, and you couldn't wait.

Once alone and seated at his desk, Henry opened up the text editor associated with the code he wrote months ago. When his screen was flooded with errors and his chat popped up with three different messages asking for help from his colleagues, Henry all but yelled out loud in frustration. Not only did he wish to be with you, it was also Sunday, one of his days off. But he couldn't just text the pilot of the plane whose radar went berserk and tell him to wait. So he got to work, determined to get this done as soon as possible.

But unfortunately, that 'as soon as possible' turned into 3 hours of continuous work. He didn't even stand up to go to the bathroom until he made sure everything was on point. It was about 4pm when the program started running smoothly again, and seeing how he had a few more hours to waste until he had to see you, Henry decided to make the best of them, by getting a head start on his tasks for the following day.

Productivity flowed through his fingertips as he solved the first issue he had been assigned for the day to come, getting ready to start working on the second one when a call caught his attention. He didn't recognize the ring tone, and it only dawned on him that he was still logged into your facebook account a couple of seconds after it stopped ringing.

Still curious, Henry switched the tabs on his computer, noticing that the chat with Steve, which he left open hours ago, showed that there was an ongoing video call. His jaw fell. Henry tightened his hands into fists, fuming with anger. First as you for doing this, and then at himself for allowing you to believe this was an ok thing to do. He knew there was no way to eavesdrop on your conversation even if he had the password, but that didn't mean his curiosity died down. No, it only grew stronger.

He felt lost for a minute, but then he thought of something. On his dresser, right next to his winter gloves and under his favorite jogging hat, laid an extra set of keys. Henry remembered the day you gave them to him, saying something along the lines of 'I feel much safer knowing that if something were to happen, you could always get to me, Henry.' and then remembered how you stuffed them in his pocket, and kissed his chest before stepping back. Such different times.

There was no trace of hesitation inside his mind as he grabbed the keys and made his way out of his home. He passed the hallway in less than a second and pressed his ear to the door. It was perfectly quiet, and through the peephole, he couldn't see any light. You weren't in the kitchen or living room, so he felt confident enough. After putting his phone on vibrate, Henry ever so gently pushed the key inside, turning it inside the lock with the most meticulous movement his wrist could muster. The sound of the door knob being turned was so faint he barely even heard it, but his pulse skyrocketed when he heard the click that signaled the door was finally open.

With small, careful steps, he made his way inside. The entire apartment was dark and quiet as he made his way in, stopping just outside your bedroom as the relaxed, deep voice of a stranger became audible through the wall. “Trust me, sweetheart. Just relax, I got you. You’re all tense, I can see it from here. You know I have more experience with this than you do, just do as I say”

With one hand on the doorknob of your bedroom, Henry was ready to put an end to this whole charade. He knew he might regret it later, but he didn't care. The image of a so called friend, pushing you to do anything that you seemed to have clearly stated your discomfort about, flipped a switch inside his brain. There was no stopping him because no one, no one got to push you around like that. Not while he could do anything about it.

#henry cavill #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill smut #henry cavill fics #august walker x reader #geralt of rivia x reader #walter marshall x reader #ahh #a helping hand

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outofsstyles · 3 years

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a/n: This is by far THE MOST requested fic I’ve ever had and (a year later) it’s finally here!! First of all, sorry that it took me so long but when I first wrote Wildest Dreams I never intended on it having a follow up, but the amount of love I got from it was so overwhelming that I decided to put this together for you all :) I’m not gonna lie, I’m a bit nervous about it, considering the amount of requests I’ve had the past year, I know there’s gonna be a lot of expectations and I wanted to do something a bit different so it’s not too predictable lol. So yeah, as always, feedback is very much welcomed!! If you enjoy please reblog it to support my writing, it would mean the world to me <3

word count: 13.7k

warnings: none!

concept: It’s Evan’s birthday and he decides to do something a bit different.

Wildest Dreams: read part 1 here :)

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

In the last two steps, you have to use your leg to support the box as it starts to slowly slip down your fingers. This serves as a reminder to start exercising again now that the midterm is over — meaning that you should finally give in to Nia’s pleas to join her in the free week of Pilates classes she got when signing in at the gym, “Exercising is one of the best ways to relieve stress!” She would argue, to which you’d simply reply with something along the lines of: “So does binging another trashy reality tv show!”

Thankfully, no one seems to notice your struggle, sparing you the embarrassment of listening to their teases due to your difficulty in carrying one of the smallest boxes of the bunch. Nate barely glances at you once you finally reach the car to hand him the box, only shooting the longest smile you’ve ever seen coming from him—which somehow still manages to be probably the quickest when compared to any other regular person. His girlfriend, who stands with hands on her hips, entirely held his attention. Nia’s purple strands of hair poke out of her half-bun in every direction and her bottom lip has found its permanent spot between her teeth as her eyes fixate on the vehicle in front of her, barely blinking.

“Everything alright, Ni?” You prompt, trying to even your breathing. “Forgot something? There’s still time to check.”

“It’s not that.” She mumbles, shaking her head to break out of her thoughts. “My keyboard doesn’t fit.” Nia nods at the instrument lying on top of the car’s ceiling.

“Oh,” You say, frowning your lips as you take in her stressed figure. Clearing your throat, you attempt to blurt out a joke, “Maybe it’s a sign you shouldn’t move it and stay right here in our little flat with creaky doors.”

She breathes out a sharp laugh, finally looking at you as she drops her arms. “Don’t start.” She warns, “You promised; no crying today.”

“Don’t worry, I’m good at holding back the tears.” You give her a soft smile, pulling her smaller frame into a hug. The sudden reality of your best friend and roommate leaving you hitting you at once. “Gonna miss you, Ni.”

You feel her sigh into your shoulder, arms circling around your middle. “I’ll be ten minutes away.”

“Not the same.”

“I know.”

The two of you sway in silence for a moment, and you watch from over her shoulder as Nate attempts to awkwardly pick up the keyboard, almost dropping it on the sidewalk in the process. He grunts, the instrument tilting in his arms, and you giggle as you hear Nia sigh once more. Tightening your arms around her, you release each other as she turns to check on her boyfriend who holds the instrument as you would a newborn — except this one is half his size and hard as a wood plank.

He glances between the both of you, helpless. “Uh, where does this go?”

“You can put it with the other big boxes upstairs, babe. We’ll take them Sunday.” Nia says, moving to close the trunk. She looks back at him, calling back in a sing-like voice before he disappears inside, “Thank you!”

You lean back against the car, a playful pout plumping your bottom lip. “Am I only seeing you again on Sunday, then?”

“Nope, I’ll pick you up for Evan’s birthday — did you forget about it already?”

You have. “Of course not. It’s on — tomorrow.”

“Is it tomorrow?” Nia gasps, eyes widening. “Holy shit, tomorrow’s Friday.”

You nod slowly, just as shocked as she is about how quickly the past couple of weeks have flown by. Between piles of book reports and stress-tear-stained essays during midterms week, you also had to find some time to help Nia with packing boxes while searching for a new roommate for yourself. If you managed a five-hour sleep on these past days, that would have been a well-rested night. So you can’t really blame yourself for forgetting about Evan’s birthday when Nia herself had it slipping through her mind.

“This is an emergency,” Nia says, eyes focusing on a point beyond you and, you feel like, if you listen close enough, you can hear the engines inside her head working. “I’ll have come here earlier so you can help me with my outfit.”

You chuckle. “What even is the theme this year?”

“He didn’t tell me,” Nia says in a huff. “But, on the bright side, I don’t think this year he’ll do anything too crazy — he was too busy these last couple months with that short film I told you about, remember?”

“Evan doing something low key? That’s a first.” You raise your eyebrows, skeptical.

“I mean, I don’t know. I’m just guessing.” Nia shrugs, picking at her nails. “I’m only saying because he mentioned once he was only inviting, like, twenty people.”

Now, this is a surprise. “I’m glad I made the cut, then.”

It’s not a secret to anyone who’s ever had any kind of interaction with Evan that he’s fond of the dramatics of life — his bright-colored outfits with mismatching patterns being the first example that comes to mind — and that reflects as well in his events. Especially when it comes to his birthday.

To be fair, you’ve only actually been to two birthday parties of his so far — considering the invitation usually finds you because he’s close to Nia and sees you as some sort of extension of her. Nevertheless, they were both impactful enough that left a clear impression of how much he enjoys celebrating himself. Last year in particular you remember quite well. It was what he called “Evaney” themed; being a mix of himself and his favorite artist: Britney Spears. And, while you and Nia showed up as one of at least fifteen different variations of the Baby One More Time schoolgirl outfit, Evan pulled a perfect match of the Oops! I Did It Again red bodysuit that he got one of his fashion student friends to tailor for him, as well as freshly dyed beach blonde hair to suit it. He even went as far as photoshopping pictures of himself on Britney’s body and had them printed on posters hung on every single room of the house. There were even custom-made cups and napkins with them — two of them that Nia stole at the end of the party still sit somewhere in your kitchen to this day.

Another particular thing you remember quite clearly was that there were enough people crowded in his living room to fill up your entire apartment, as you recall. And that’s about how a typical event at his home is like — even on his friendsmas dinner there were much more than just twenty people eating turkey out of disposable hot pink plates. So, Nia’s information leaves you wondering what he could have in mind for tomorrow with such a limited list of people.

Before you can voice your wonders to her, though, Nate pushes through the entrance door again. You can tell he, much like you minutes ago, is trying to cover his heavy breathing. “I left it on top of those big boxes with a bunch of books in ‘em.”

“Brilliant! Thank you, baby.” Nia grins, wrapping an arm around his middle. “By the way, we just remembered Evan’s birthday’s tomorrow.”

“Is it tomorrow already?” Nate asks, and you hold back a giggle at the way his face scrunches in discontent. He hates going to Evan’s to a point that’s nearly comical. “Fuck’s sake.”

“And I think I’ll come here early so we can get ready together.” Nia nods towards you.

Nate grunts. “Do I have to go this time?”

“Of course, darling.” She rises to her tiptoes to pinch his cheek, to which he brushes it off.

Nate looks at you, and you only send him a tight smile in solidarity. The two of you share similar experiences with Evan, considering the only reason either of you even gets invited is that because you’re close to Nia, and she’s close to Evan. Although you like Evan, even if you’re not that close with him, you can still put on your social mask for a couple of hours and have fun at his parties. Nate, on the other hand, is likely the least sociable person you’ve ever met, and it’s obvious how uncomfortable he gets every time.

Nia seems to sense how tense he gets as well, because she steps in front of her boyfriend, finding his eyes with her doe-like ones. “I mean, if you don’t want to, then you don’t have to.”

He sighs, “Of course I’ll go with you.” He looks up at you. “Maybe this time we can actually count how many faces of his we can see from the couch.”

This time you don’t hold back a giggle. “I have a feeling we’ll have an easier time this year.”

“Hope so.” Nate taps on Nia’s back. "Let's go, then? Is everything you need in the trunk?”

“Yup.” She answers, circling the car and opening the door to the passenger’s side. Before entering, she gives you one last look. “Do you want me to bring anything for you tomorrow?”

“I’m good.”

“‘kay!” She enters, closing the door behind her in a click and leaning over Nate to wave at you from his window. “See you tomorrow! Don’t cry too hard tonight!”

“I won’t!” You wave back.

Watching as the car pulls back, before driving away and disappearing around the corner, there’s a light breeze that raises goosebumps on the exposed skin of your arms. You cross them under your chest, leaning back into the wall of your building, not quite ready to go back to your empty home yet. The seconds blend into minutes and you stand there The promise you made to Nia not even a minute ago already pooling in your eye, knowing you wouldn’t be able to keep it anyway, you let it tickle its way down your cheek.

A rougher gust of wind hits you and, this time, you turn to go inside.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

The days are still not long enough so that the sun can shine proudly at seven in the afternoon, but as spring just about rounds the corner there’s still a golden glow as the rays provide one last warmth before disappearing on the horizon. And that’s how the sky greets you once you step out of your building to make your way towards Evan’s house for his birthday.

As planned, Nia arrived at yours with plenty of time so the two of you could help each other get ready, a bag filled with clothes she’s just taken to Nate’s yesterday under her arm for you to help her choose. “I’m thinking something monochromatic tonight.” She said as she walked in, making you jump in your spot on the couch as you didn’t hear her using the spare key. “I’m just not sure what color.”

She ended up choosing red. There was an old box of red hair dye you found lost inside the bathroom cabinet after Nia left — along with two different brands of shaving cream, although those belonging to Nate — and, after presenting it to her, she decided to go all for it, taking it as a sign. Nate showed up just about an hour after his girlfriend, still in his work attire and barely batting an eye at Nia’s new hair color as she blew dried it. The only comment leaving his mouth being, “You look like a tomato,” before kissing her forehead and excusing himself for a nap while the two of you finished getting ready.

What neither of you realized was that Nia’s last-minute decision took more time than you predicted, giving you barely enough time to get dressed. To her, that wasn’t exactly an inconvenience considering she had an outfit ready to match any color she wanted — in this case, was a red-dyed denim two-piece. and a matching jacket that ended up discarded after she noticed it covered her newest shoulder tattoo (though you tried to argue she could just have Nate carry it so she could wear it considering she eventually would get cold at some point). To you, however, was more of a stressful task, seeing you hadn’t taken in mind to think of an outfit beforehand. So you ended up just going with the safest option that didn’t give you a lot of room to overthink, choosing to finish your makeup on the way so Evan wouldn’t have any of your heads on a plate for being late.

You’ve found that applying mascara on a moving vehicle is not the easiest task, as Nia holds your elbow to help you keep steady while talking nonstop with the driver about a topic you stopped paying any mind to about ten minutes ago.

“I’m loving our black and red moment, by the way.” She turns to you, loosening her hold as you finish the last coat. “You look like one of those hot businesswomen with your teenage daughter who likes to dress like an animated character.”

You laugh at her comparison, only now noticing the discrepancy between both your outfits. Without even realizing it, you also ended up going for the monochromatic look. Except unlike Nia’s, yours completely lacks any color. “That’s actually the best comparison you could make.”

“I know — You can take a left right here — Here, I have lip gloss.” Nia fetches a small tube from her jacket (that she ended up taking, after all), presenting it to you.

“Do you not have lipstick?”

“Are you not planning on smudging it later?” Nia wiggles her eyebrows, teasing. The hint behind her words makes you roll your eyes, snatching the lip gloss from her hand without bothering to give her an answer. There was about a month or so, just before winter rolled around, that Nia felt as if she had a mission to get you with someone. You suspect, knowing too well how her mind works, that she must’ve felt some sort of guilt for what happened during her film project last year. It was clear that her attempts came from a place of good heart, but this doesn’t mean that it made them any less annoying. However, after her plans to move in with Nate became more concrete, her cupid persona seemed to have disappeared, or so you’d thought. But now that there’s nothing else filling her mind anymore, it looks like she’s back at it, and you can’t help but snort. “What? I’m just saying-”

“You say a lot of things, most of them are incorrect.” You say, “I’m not smudging anything tonight. Not on a party with twenty people, for fuck’s sake.”

“Don’t say that before — right there! The big house on the corner!” Nia leans over the console, signaling to the driver where to park. It’s so sudden that you notice how he jumps just slightly from his seat, chuckling to yourself at how Nate snaps his eyes at her.

The front of Evan’s Victorian home is unusually quiet once you step out onto the sidewalk. So much so that, if it weren’t for the lined cars parked along the street and filling his driveway, you would’ve thought you’d typed in the wrong address.

The discrepancy is clear to you when compared to other gatherings Evan hosts in his house, but especially for his birthday. Last year, you could hear Toxic blasting from his place from the moment you turned on his street, and a small crowd gathered on his front yard — most of which you recall being comprised of people plastered out of their minds, particularly one semi-naked man who was using one lamppost as a strip pole while swinging a stuffed snake

That’s more or less the standard one could expect when invited to a party at Evan’s. So, to find the street as silent as any regular day is, to an understanding, odd.

“Are you sure it’s the right date?” You ask as the metal creak of the front gate mends with gushes of wind whistling through the air.

“Yup,” Nia says simply, walking in front of you. “You can hear the music inside, shush.”

You come quiet, listening in, and, surely, you can hear the faint keys of a piano coming from the other side of the stone walls, but it only brings up more questions to your head than answers. Evan seems like the last person on Earth who would listen to classical music. Deciding not to voice your question this time, you follow short behind Nia, kicking some loose stones on the gravel path leading to the front door.

There’s no need for more than a single knock for it to open almost immediately, revealing a lace-clad Evan downing the last bits of his wine. Without the barrier you can hear the music more clearly, the keys of the piano meshing in a peculiar way, not like anything you’ve ever heard in a classical song— at least not ten years ago when you tried to learn piano for a year before giving up.

“Look at my favorite people!” Evan says with his purple-stained lips, pulling Nia for a hug with the arm that’s not holding the door open while pointing at a spot behind her. “Did you greet Jonathan when you passed him? It’s his birthday as well.”

He points to a spot where a gnome statue sits in the dry grass, face painted in clown makeup. Nate’s voice comes from behind you, “Christ.”

“Nate!” Evan chirps, going straight for the man standing with a sharp smile and throwing his arms around him. “You know you’re my favorite grumpy, right?”

Nate only taps on the shorter man’s back, quickly moving to Nia’s side as soon as he’s free from the embrace. With that, Evan turns to you, hands finding your elbows as he takes you in, “And what have you been up to, bug? It's been ages.”

“You know… Books and… Stuff.” You chuckle, brushing it off. “Happy birthday, E.”

“Thank you!” He claps his hands together. “Now, c’mon, let’s get all of you started.”

Following him inside, you’re met with a glittery box standing right next to the entrance; rolls of tape seal it shut, and a hand-sized hole has been cut on top of the lid. You try to peek at what could be inside, but strings of colorful crepe paper are stuck to the hole, making it harder to know its contents.

Evan picks up the box, holding it to his side. “So, I need each of you to grab a piece of paper inside the box. There will be a number in it but for now just hold on, drink, and chat while waiting for further instructions.” His voice lowers at the end to give his words more of a mystery behind them.

Nate tenses in front of you and you have to keep yourself from chuckling at his desperate gaze moving from the box to his girlfriend as he moves uncomfortably on his feet. Nia, however, only gives him a pat on his back, barely looking at her boyfriend as she does a little dance in excitement. “Oh, this feels fun.” She says, quickly reaching her hand inside the box and retrieving a piece of paper. “Mysterious, but fun. What do you have in mind, sir?”

“Nothing too crazy this year, darling, you can relax — We’re all too tired.” He moves the box towards Nate, who reluctantly reaches inside. “Just something to mesh people together that won’t give me too much of a headache to clean tomorrow.”

“Smart.” You say, peeking at the box as it’s presented to you before reaching for a paper inside, quickly reading the number eight written on it before folding the piece between your fingers.

“Nice! As always, drinks in the kitchen. We’re starting in ten minutes!” Evan claps, hushing the three of you further inside.

Surprisingly, this time around there are no posters of his face in sight as you follow Nia and Nate to the kitchen. There’s a mild mash of voices coming from the living room — where the sound of the piano is the loudest, and you wonder if he got an actual piano or if it’s just a Bluetooth speaker —, but it’s not nearly as loud as you’re used to from past times. The lighting has been lowered to a buttery yellow; you realize once you enter the kitchen that feels too bright to your eyes in contrast to the hallway.

“Is there any alcohol?” You wonder out loud, and Nia glances at you with her eyebrows shot towards her hairline. “What? I’m just asking ‘cause everyone is unusually quiet.”

“There’s wine and — what are these guys right here?” She picks up one out of four plastic jars sitting on the kitchen island, reading the label stuck to it out loud, “Strawberry Mary — ooh, this looks fun.”

You reach for the other three to check their contents, but all have names similar to the one Nia now fills her cup with — fruity, yet mysterious: Lana Banana, Jenny Berry Mix, and Pineapple Suzan. “Did he come up with these?” You chuckle, reaching for the berry mix.

“It was probably Adam,” Nia says, and you frown. “That bartender guy? The one with the pet snakes.”

“Oh, yeah. I know him.”

The room comes quiet as you serve yourself, and only after you glance up you realize a tension lingering in the air. Nate stands awkwardly in a corner, eyes fixed on Nia as he moves his head around subtly. Glancing between the two of them, you notice how their expressions change as they keep their eyes locked, not a single word being uttered out loud. To you, it almost feels as if they are reading each other’s minds, and the heat of their silent argument becoming clear once Nate huffs, shaking his head.

Nia clears her throat, seemingly uncomfortable, shooting you a knowing look. It’s only when she gives you a toothless smile that you realize the silent question behind it. “Uhm, I’m going to check if there are any sweets outside.”

Beelining towards the doorway, you quickly make your way out of the room. The hallway is empty and, from where you stand awkwardly in the middle of it, you can tell Evan’s left his spot by the front door, meaning he’s likely gone to the living room where the rest of the guests are. You can hear them chatting, although like you previously pointed, the voices are much more controlled than what you’re used to, and that makes you oddly flustered by the thought of walking in alone.

Considering the limited amount of invitations this year, the chances of you knowing anyone are slim and, to add to your sudden nervousness, most of the people from Evan’s closest circle of friends are — like himself — inexplicably intimidating. This is mostly because it feels like this unspoken competition that everyone has settled with each other, to subtly brag about your success whilst simultaneously pretending to be impressed about the other’s accomplishments. And for you specifically, considering you’re not part of this artist clique that they lock themselves into, it feels particularly tiresome to be part of those interactions.

So, you opt to wait for Nia, pretending to admire one peculiar painting hanging on a wall opposite to where the doorway leading to the living room stands. Every so often, you catch yourself glancing over your shoulder one way or the other, either towards the kitchen to check if your friends are joining you, or to the doorway where the rest of the guests are in. At one point, the voices get louder, joining in a laugh before tangling together in a mess of noise you can’t make sense of. It’s after a minute that you hear footsteps coming from the living room, making you freeze on your spot, carefully turning your back to whoever’s about to catch you avoiding the party, and focusing on the piece you’ve been staring at for the past five minutes.

The painting you first thought was just random strokes of earth tones abstractly put together you now realize it’s a man and it doesn’t take you more than a second or two to recognize Evan’s side profile in a peach shade. Your hand claps on top of your mouth as you fight the urge to laugh. The sound comes out muffled, but it stops as you hear the footsteps falter as they turn into the hallway. Keeping you back to them, you listen as the wooden floor creaks as whoever was approaching makes their way back. You peek to catch sight of who it might be, but all you make out is the shadow of mustard corduroys turning the corner.

As if on cue, Nia and Nate finally appear from the kitchen, thankfully neither appearing to be sour after the talk in the kitchen.

“Finally.” You say, still feeling giggly from your finding. “Nate, you have to check this-”

“Okay! Let’s start, then. Do we have everyone in the living room?” Evan’s voice interrupts you as he calls out. Nia guides you along with her to the living room. And, as soon as the three of you enter, Evan nods at you, before continuing, “Now that all the bunnies are trapped, we shall begin!” He laughs, clapping his hands together before motioning vaguely to everyone. “Before I explain what I have planned, I want to pair you all. So, I’ll call out the numbers that each of you picked when you arrived, so everyone can find their pair.”

You frown, confuse yet curious about what Evan’s up to as he calls out the numbers. Now that you stop to glance around the room, you note how there are more people than you’d expected. It’s still not nearly as many as previous parties of his, but it still feels like the room is nicely filled, maybe just a dozen people above twenty. And amongst them, there’s quite a few you recognize as they pair up together — like Georgia, the first one to be called, whom you spent a good half of the New Year’s party with, or Taylor, who gets paired with Nia (you remember him particularly from a film festival that Nia had been part of — he produced and directed a short film comparing the second wave of feminism to the wildlife in the Amazon Rainforest, and Nia couldn’t stop complaining about how bad it was for the entire week after).

It’s when Evan jokes with someone on the other side of the room, however, that you see him.

He’s tucked in a corner, right next to the bookshelves, arms crossed under his chest in a way that makes his tattoos pop out of his biceps, something you notice even standing on the opposite end of the room. His smile is subtle as he watches the scene in front of him, but it’s still enough for a dimple to poke at one side of his face -- it’s barely there, but you’ve seen it up close enough times that you notice those details. His hand holds a drink, but you pay no mind to it because what calls your attention is the mustard corduroy hugging his hips, the same one you watched run from you not only five minutes ago.

He laughs, and you avert your eyes, mouth still hung open. You wonder if anyone will notice if you leave.

But, as though he could read your mind, Evan calls the number written on that sits crumbled inside the pocket of your jacket. “Where are my number eights?”

You step forward and, like a magnet, your eyes glue on Harry as he raises his hand.

Shaking your head in disbelief, you have to fight against an urge to shut your eyes tightly as the regret of having left your room at all tonight becomes almost overwhelming. All you expected for the night was to forget about book reports and endless essays piled up on your computer, to relax, maybe drink a bit more than you should while watching Evan’s friends dancing with a taxidermy beaver or something of sorts (that was on his friendsmas party two years ago). Instead, here you are on what feels like the first day of class dynamic your teacher has imposed to make everyone interact with each other. And, suddenly, the long pages of (insert boring book) don’t seem that bad right now.

And to make matters worse (because the universe just likes to add a little more spice to your tragedies) of all people standing in this living room you just had to be paired with the one with whom you had a fling-like relationship six months ago.

It’s awkward before he even approaches you, the tension making you fidget in your spot anxiously, barely being able to shoot a tight smile his way.

The last time you saw Harry was through the rearview mirror of a car, standing on the sidewalk like an abandoned puppy with his tail between his legs. Though you admit you let your dramatics take away when you turned away from him to leave, the feeling behind it was genuine. You were upset. He had led you on, after all, made you think he wanted to have something more just to ignore you for months and, later, appear with a redhead under his arms and call her his girlfriend. So, yes, it wasn’t the best note to leave on.

But despite how you left the last encounter, the spark of nervousness that shoots through your stomachs right now doesn’t come exactly because of his presence, but more so for the awkward nature of this encounter. At the time it happened, you avoided any activity that had the slight possibility of seeing him again like the plague. You were hurt, and you were mad — though the second part was more directed at yourself than at him. But that was six months ago. After all, as much as you felt enchanted by him and as much as those two weeks you spent together were nice, that’s all that it was: two weeks. Yes, you were sad and, yes, maybe you shed a tear or two while watching Love, Rosie with Nia afterward, but that passed as quickly as it came.

That is, until now.

“Your hair is shorter” This Is all you blurt out when he stands in front of you again.

“It is, yeah.” Harry runs his hand through his hair. The strands that last time you saw him, curled around his jawline, now peek just under his earlobe. “Did it myself, actually.”

“Really?” You take a big gulp from your drink, gaze going anywhere but meeting his own. “Found yourself another talent.”

“Another?” You can hear the smirk in his voice.

“I mean, besides acting.” You grin, holding the cup to your lips and sparing him a glance. “Suppose after your debut you’ve gotten yourself busy with casting calls”

“Of course” Harry laughs. Now that you’re closer you have a better look at his dimples as they pop out, as well as the constellation of freckles hugging his nose, and the mole right under his lips. You avert your eyes again. “I’m set to be the next Bond, in fact”

“Oh, wow.” You raise your brows, grinning at the brim of your cup. “I can see it.”

He turns to you, “Can you?” You peek at him. "Why is that?”

This is exactly what you were afraid of all those months ago after last seeing him. The entire reason you ran from any possibility of seeing him again afterward. You can still remember clearly how much of a flirt he is, even when he doesn’t mean to be. It’s not a secret that Harry’s a charming man. His words are like honey, and when he uses them just right, you know is enough to have you melting. And it doesn’t help how well you seem to click together. Even now, you still feel it by your impulse to flirt back, to look him in the eye, and get just close enough to feel the scent of his cologne. Do all that just to turn away in the last second. Tease him the same way he did you. But you don’t do any of that, of course, because you’re as petty as you are bitter. So, instead, you click your tongue. “Don’t get too comfortable, Harry, bet your girlfriend wouldn’t be happy about that.”

He chuckles. “What girlfriend?”

This time you turn fully at him, brows shooting up not in defiance, but surprise. “Yikes.” You say before you’re able to hold back.

“Yikes.” Harry still holds a smile when he repeats it, head falling as he lets out a — nervous? — laugh.

A question pops into your head. One that lingered in your mind for a good while now, but comes back a bit louder now that you have the information that his relationship was short-lasted after all. It’s a short one, but one that requires a long answer, you suppose. What happened? You think. But you don’t dare to voice it, you don’t want to have this conversation with him. Whatever the explanation is, it’s not going to change anything. So you just avert your gaze back to Evan, who now calls for everyone’s attention again.

“I know you’re all dying to know what this is all about. So, I’m going to explain it all.” And with that introduction, Evan dives into a monologue you only pay half mind to. It’s hard for you to focus on the words rapidly leaving his mouth as you can feel Harry glancing at you every so often from the corner of your eye. You listen in to Evan describing himself as a feisty kid and mention his love for drama, and then you feel the ghost of Harry’s arm bumping against yours as he sways on his feet. You try to pay attention to the story being told of the events leading up to this birthday party, and then you have to hold yourself back from meeting Harry’s eyes once you feel them at the side of your face once again. He makes a comment under his breath that you don’t quite catch, and you’re about to question him before Evan’s voice comes in an even higher pitch. “I wanted tonight to be exactly that: chaotic. I didn’t want anything to quite make sense, and I didn’t want to think much, if I’m honest, last year of film school is taking a big chunk of my functioning neurons and m’dad’s whiskey collection is taking the rest of them.”

There’s a collective laugh that takes place and, once again, Harry’s eyes peeking at you. “Everyone can relax, it’s not one of those murder mystery parties, as I’ve heard some people guess — for fuck’s sake as if I have the time and patience to plan something like that.” He says with a sip directly from a wine bottle you just now realize he’s been holding. “It’s a scavenger hunt, you have a partner and an envelope with clues. Each pair will find something related to moi and after it’s all done, we’ll eat burgers and talk about me for the rest of the night.”

“Sounds easy enough.” Harry mumbles.

Evan claps his free hand on his wrist, hushing everyone. “So off you go, c’mon! I’ll be hungry in an hour.”

“This is gonna be…” You start. “Interesting.”

“Interesting is a great word to describe it.”

“Well, let’s try to do this as quickly as possible, then.”

The side of his lips quirks up. “On a rush?”

“This is not exactly a comfortable position to be. I think you get it.” You say, fidgeting on your feet. You wait for a second for him to say something so you can start the activity, but he doesn’t and you realize there’s a piece missing. “Do you have an envelope?”

Harry nods, reaching for his pocket where the envelope sits folded in half. He swiftly opens it, taking out a card.

“Well?” You prompt, “Read us the first clue, Bond.”

There’s a smile that Harry fights against at the nickname and you’re not sure due to the dim light, but you think there’s a hint of a rosy tone on the apple of his cheeks. “An activity that grows lives and ruins manicures.” He reads out loud, pausing for a moment before laughing to himself. “I know this one.”

“Grows lives?” You frown. “As in, a pregnancy?”

Harry shakes his head, leading the way towards the corridor. “As in, gardening.”

“That’s a very weird way to put it.” You say, following him. “Does he garden?”

He walks into the kitchen, greeting two people you don’t recognize who are searching for something — their clue, you assume — inside the cabinets. “No, but his sister does. There’s a greenhouse in the back.”

You simply hum in response, muttering a quick thank you as he opens the door for you that leads to the back garden. The greenhouse is not unfamiliar to you from the outside, there have been a good amount of summer gatherings in his back garden for you to know of its existence. But you’ve thought nothing more about it. If you’re honest, you never really paid much attention to it. If anything, you assumed he used it as storage at most, never taking Evan as someone who enjoyed gardening. Though now you know you were right, you've also learned that his sister lives with him and you wonder why he’s never mentioned it before.

The curiosity inside of you wants to question Harry about it, to ask him what else he knows you don’t. When you think about it, there’s a lot you want to ask him about. Not just regarding Evan, but also regarding him. You wonder what he’s been up in the past six months if he ended up adopting the kitten he’d told you about back when you were still filming or if he read any of the book recommendations you wrote on his notes app one particular night the two of you chatted for longer than the moon could hold itself up in the sky. The part of you that begs for you to say something on the short walk is so strong you have to physically bite your tongue to be able to hold back.

You don’t have to hold for long, however, as Harry takes it upon himself to say, “So,” He starts, clearing his throat, “How- uh- how are you doing?”

Somehow, his words click something inside of your mind. They remind you of why you shouldn’t let that curious part of you win. The sole purpose of it not falling for his charm. You shake your head, “We’re not doing this.”

“Doing what?” He frowns, his steps faltering for a second.

“Small talk.” You answer, focused on your goal. “We’ll just solve this thing as quickly as possible so I can go back home and finish my Euphoria marathon.”

“Right.” Harry nods once, and you can’t help but notice the way his lips quirk down, the frown not leaving his face. You can’t lie and say it doesn’t make your stomach drop the slightest bit to see you’ve upset him, but you have to remind yourself how much he’s upset you, too.

It’s protecting yourself, you think. After tonight, you don’t have to see him ever again.

Inside the greenhouse, you’re greeted with a mix of scents you’re not prepared for before stepping in. The space is compact, with a single corridor narrowed with garden beds on each side. Dozens of branches and leaves tickle you as you walk in, most of them belonging to different flowers that, despite the chilly weather that still lingers outside, are already blooming. It’s a blend of colors, bright reds, and ocean blues, soft purple petals kissing pink and yellow ones.

“We should look for gloves.” Harry’s voice startles you, chuckling as you jump a bit.

“Huh?”

“Gloves.” He says. “I think whatever we’re looking for has to do with the gloves, ‘cause he mentioned manicure.”

“That makes sense.” You look around. Many gardening tools are piling under the tables that hold the garden beds; watering cans and empty pots. You look between bags of fertilizer and drawers filled with shovels. There’s so much stuff to look through that, at one point, you sit back on your calves, glancing around, lost.

You hear Harry leafing through as you’re doing, feeling his legs brushing against your back as he passes by and you stop, watching him from your spot on the floor. He’s got a concentrated look on his face, bottom lip worried between his teeth as he scans through the walls before he opens another drawer. That’s when his gaze falls, catching yours. You quickly turn away, pretending to go through another pile of empty pots and blocking the sound of a chuckle coming from his spot.

For a moment, the only sound in the room is the clicking of ceramics and the opening and closing of wooden drawers. That is until you hear from Harry, “A-ha!”

You look up again, seeing him move to the back where few pairs of gloves hang on the wall — so obvious yet still hidden between raincoats and summer hats. “Right under our noses.” You say, getting up.

Harry searches inside the gloves, tongue trapped between his teeth. “Bingo!” He says, pulling out two tiny bottles from inside one pair.

“What is it?”

“Liquor.” He grins, peeking at you from under his lashes before ripping a piece of paper attached to it. “It says ‘one for each, now get to clue number two.’” He holds up one bottle, offering it to you, to which you take it. “It’s chocolate flavored.”

“Of course it would be a drinking game.” You open it, feeling the artificial chocolate scent braid with the alcohol. “Christ.”

“Don’t smell it, or it’ll be worse,” Harry says, downing his with one quick tilt of his head. “‘S not that bad, actually.”

You mimic his action, letting the drink swiftly burn its way down your throat. Unlike Harry, you can’t help but scrunch your nose at the taste. “You’re a fucking liar.”

Harry only giggles in response, taking the empty bottle from you and placing it back inside the gloves, along with his own.

And then again, silence. You turn to the flowers to find some comfort.

A family of tulips glances back at you, their petals in a full red, it’s the kind of beauty you’re scared to ruin if you touch, so you just rest your hand on the wood. “They’re beautiful.” You only notice you say it out loud when Harry hums back in agreement.

“They are.” He says quietly but somehow feels loud by how close he is. “Tulips are my favorites.”

You stop, brows raising incredulously at him. “No, they’re not.”

“What?”

Cursing the universe for playing with you like this, you can’t help but laugh at the situation. “It’s just- they’re my favorites, too.” You look at him. “My nan used to plant them when I was little.”

“That’s sweet.” He says, smiling and you nod. “The red ones represent true love.” He points. “And the purple ones represent royalty.”

You blink at him. “Do you just look up tulip facts in your free time?”

Harry laughs. “Yeah, basically.” He looks down at you, and you can’t help but notice how the greenery around brings out the shade of his eyes. “I worked at a flower shop for a tick.”

“Really?”

He nods. “For eight months. My favorite part was writing on the store board every morning.” His face lights up as he recalls his experience. “I used to write silly stuff like, ‘one day I’d like to meet tulips.’ The old ladies loved it.”

You shake your head, breathing out a laugh. “You’re dangerous.”

“Dangerous? Why’s that?”

Because you’re sweet, you want to answer, because when I think I won’t get charmed by you again, you hit me with tulip puns. Your lip finds its spot between your teeth, you’d be damned to give him the satisfaction of hearing you tell him that, so, instead, you shrug. “Because.” You can tell he wants to dig more by the way his lip twitch up, teasing a smile, but you just nod towards the door before turning away from him and heading out.

There’s a distinct change of temperature when you step outside, and it’s only when you do that you notice the greenhouse was heated. Thankfully, the night is not too windy as it would get a week or two ago when winter was still insisting on making itself present, but it’s still chilly so that it makes you hug your jacket closer to your body. Harry also notices the difference, as you hear him wince as he steps out from behind you — unlike you, he’s not wearing anything to protect his arms from the cold, which only makes it harder for you to not ogle the tattoos hugging his skin.

“So, what’s next?” You prompt.

Harry reaches for the card again, taking it from its spot on his pocket before reading the second clue. “‘Not feeling too creative to write this one, it’s on the third tree on oak.’”

“I mean, at least we don’t have to think too much on this one.” You say, “Oak Street is the one to the left, right?”

“Yeah.” Harry sighs. “Can’t believe he’s making us go out on the streets.”

You start to make your way back towards the house. “Too tired for a stroll?”

“‘S cold,” Harry says, scrunching his nose. “Here, there’s a side gate.”

He guides you through a gravel path to where the black gate stands, hidden between bushes and branches. Strings of fern hug the bricked fence and the surrounding grass is high enough that it tickles your calves through your tights, making you believe this path has probably been left unused for at least a couple of months now. This information brings out an extra worry for you, as you take a better look at it, noticing how the gate is closed shut to the fence.“Is it open?” You wonder out loud.

“Shit, I don’t think it is.” Harry huffs under his breath. “But, I mean, we could easily jump it.”

You stop, turning to glance at him as the suggestion leaves his lips. He stands there, hands on his hips, examining the gate, tongue poking out as he frowns. After a second, he meets your eyes. “What? It’s not that tall.”

“I suppose.” You say, looking back at the fence that ends just below your shoulder length. It would be easy enough for you to climb it with a boost, however, “I’m wearing a dress.”

“Oh,” Harry scratches the back of his neck. “Let’s just go inside-” He turns back.

“Wait,” You stop him, not sure if it’s the slight amount of alcohol in your system already making you more adventurous, you train your gaze at the gate, analyzing it again, before looking back at him. Squinting your eyes, “You have to close your eyes.”

He laughs, “Are you sure?”

“It’s not that high.” You shrug. “But I need your help.”

“Of course.” He moves next to the brick wall, kneeling before it and nodding towards you. “C’mon, step up.”

Hesitantly, you glance at his thigh stretching his trousers, a sudden wave of insecurity hitting you. “Are you sure you can lift me?”

Harry simply puts his hand out in a silent request for you to hold. “Of course.”

“No peeking.”

He shuts his eyes tightly, chin meeting his chest as he looks down. And then you take his hand, feeling his fingers lock in a firm hold as he helps you use him for support. You hesitate again before using his thigh as a step, “Wait, I’m gonna ruin your trousers.” You worry, but Harry only shakes his head, still keeping it facing the ground, the strands of his hair falling above his eyes in a makeshift blindfold. When he doesn't feel you stepping in still, he encourages you with a squeeze in your hand.

You attempt to do as quickly as possible with your dress clinging to your legs, tightening your hold to Harry’s hand to step on his thigh. Once you let it go, you can still feel it lingering behind your back as you use your arms to boost yourself up the wall, sitting on it for a moment before jumping to the other side with a huff.

“Can I open them?” You hear Harry’s voice calls from the other side, and you smile, nodding even though he can’t see it.

“Yes!”

And then his face appears as he stands up in a jump, grinning at you. “See? Easy Peasy.”

“I feel like a teen sneaking out.” You say, and you instantly give another meaning to your words as Harry boosts himself up. This time, you certainly don’t hold yourself back from staring at the way his muscles flex at the movement, the tattoos on his arms stretching, and his shirt rolling up. He makes it look so easy, so effortless, barely taking five seconds until he’s jumping in front of you.

“That was fun.” He puffs, patting his trousers lightly.

“So, how are we finding the tree?” You ask, taking a quick glance to where his hands brush on the fabric of his trousers. “Should we read the clue again?”

“I know which one he’s talking about,” Harry says, nodding to the left before beginning his stride in that direction. You follow him, trusting his words as the two of you turn the corner where Evan’s house is located.

The street in question is much calmer than the one you were just in, with no cars coming or going from the residences — that stand much closer to one another, you notice, giving the whole street more of a narrow feeling to it --, which is not exactly odd, but certainly is a contrast with the main street that Evan’s home faces, that one being more lively with people either coming home or leaving it to enjoy their Friday night. The sudden lack of background noise makes the walk to your destination a tad awkward, as none of you make an effort to strike a conversation. Instead, you resort to silently observing the surrounding area as you walk alongside Harry, noticing how the trees here bend over the sidewalk, their naked branches slowly but surely growing back the leaves they lost months ago — it makes you wonder how beautiful this must look during the peak of springtime, their full branches blending together, making a ceiling of flowers.

“Here.” Harry stops abruptly, making you almost bump into his shoulder, as you were too busy with the scenery you’ve made in your own head. “‘S this one.”

“I thought it said the third one.” You frown, looking back and noticing the way you’ve passed way more than just three.

“This one is the third.” He says, motioning to a small birdhouse stuck to its trunk with a number ‘3’ painted to the front in blue. “It’s a bit of an inside joke,” Harry chuckles to himself. “Now I get why the bastard wanted me to have this card.”

You look closer at the tree, trying to see if there’s something attached to it besides the birdhouse, but there’s nothing. Before you can question it, Harry opens the front of the tiny house, retrieving two tiny bottles from inside of it, similar to the ones you found in the greenhouse. “Oh, no.” You say, laughing. “Did he just put liquor inside a stranger’s birdhouse?”

Harry shakes his head, “This is not a stranger’s birdhouse.”

“Huh?” You frown, glancing back to the house where you stand in front of, its front completely dark, showing that no one must be at home. You point to it over your shoulder. “Do you know who lives here?”

“Yeah,” He starts, offering you one bottle. “I do.”

Your brows shoot up in surprise, glancing back and forth from the house to the man standing in front of you, an amusing grin growing on his face. “You live here?” You ask, “This is your birdhouse?”

“It is, yeah. In fact, I was the one who built it.” He gives the birdhouse a small pat.

You can’t help but let your mouth hang open for a second. “That’s-” You pause, not sure which word to use. Impressive? Amazing? Hot? “That’s nice.”

Harry smiles, and the two of you stand there for a moment, admiring his work in silence. You suck your bottom lip in, keeping yourself from inquiring further.

Being presented with how little you know about Harry only peaks at your curiosity at what had happened last year in your brief experience with him. When you were with him it felt as if you’d known him for months rather than weeks, but looking back at it now, you wonder if your infatuation fooled you into thinking the two of you were close. Maybe that’s why you were so upset at the premiere after all because all that did was prove to you how much you didn’t know him at all. No matter how many sleepless nights you spent together sharing bits of your lives, it wasn’t enough for you to get to know him.

It’s only when a car turns into the street that you break away from your thoughts, looking up at him and clearing your throat. “We should take this back to Evan’s.” You say. “I’m not sure how it would look from an outsider’s point of view to see us downing these tiny bottles in the middle of the street.”

“You’re right,” Harry says. “Should we read the last clue while we’re at it?”

“Sure, yeah.”

He reaches for the card inside his pocket, presenting it to you. “You do the honors this time.”

You take the card, brushing your thumb over the words before stopping for a second to read them out loud, “You’ll find your prize behind the words of buried legends.” You snort. “That’s so corny.”

“Words of buried legends,” Harry repeats, letting out a hum. “Bet he was feeling quite poetic when he wrote this one.”

“Maybe because it has to do with poems.” You peek at him, a slight raise to your eyebrow. “‘Words of buried legends’? like dead poets and stuff?” Upon reading it again to make sure, you mumble, “He really made this card especially for you, huh?”

“Makes sense.” Harry agrees before nudging you playfully with his arm. “Look at you with your literary mind!”

“Could’ve used some better wording but I’ll let it pass.” You giggle, shrugging as you hand him back the card. As you do so, you notice there’s something written on the other side. “What’s in the back?”

Harry’s brows meet. “Huh?”

“In the back of the card, something’s written on it.” You nod towards his hand as he’s about to pocket the card again.

Harry turns it around, reading it with a chuckle. “Ice breakers.”

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.” Your mouth drops open in amusement. “Well? Go on, then. Break the ice.”

Harry makes a show of clearing his throat before reading the question as an announcement, “What celebrity do you think you could pull on your best day?”

“Is this the actual question?” You squint your eyes at him and he turns the card to allow you to read it as well. Surely, the same question reads right on top of it and, as you take a glance at the ones below it, they’re not that much better. You shake your head, “God, I have no idea.”

“I know mine.”

“You didn’t give a single thought on that one.” You say. “This should be good.”

“Jennifer Aniston.”

“Jennifer Aniston?” You stop on your tracks, raising your brows at him. “You know she was married to Brad Pitt, right?”

“Ouch.” Harry makes the theatrics of putting a hand on his heart, head falling dramatically to the side. “Right where it hurts.”

“I’m not saying you’re bad-looking, but he’s Brad Pitt.” You emphasize with a laugh, pushing him playfully as you keep walking. “Like he is the male beauty standard. Personified.”

The front of Evan’s feels more vivid than it was when you first walked in hours ago, the lights inside seeming lighter and the curtains having been pulled back, showing people wandering around on the inside. You walk past another pair crouched in front of the bushes that line next to the front gate that creaks as you open it.

Harry rolls his eyes. “Sure, let’s hear yours, then, sweetheart.”

“Ew, don’t ever call me that again.” Your nose scrunches and your face grows hot, but you attempt to shake it off, stopping to think of the question. “Huh, on my best day? I think… I don’t know, maybe Drake?”

“Oh, no!” Harry’s hands cover his face as he shakes his head into them. “I feel like that’s the most basic answer anyone could ever give to this question.”

You gasp. “Did you just call me basic?”

Harry holds the front door open for you and, before he’s able to give you an answer, you bump right into Nia. She instantly blurts out your name, as if she’s been expecting you to appear. “I’ve been looking for you!” She says, sparing Harry a glance over your shoulder before pulling you slightly to the side. “Do you think we could talk for a second?”

“Sure.” You hold out the word, looking at Harry before focusing on your friend again. “Did something happen?”

“No, no, nothing happened. Just—” Nia starts, locking your arms as she guides you back outside, pulling you to a corner a few steps away from the front door. “How are you? How's it going?”

“I’m fine. Why?” Your brows knit together at her interference and you wonder if it has anything to do with her conversation with Nate.

“I’m talking about-” She looks over her shoulder, clearly checking if anyone is listening in. Even after making sure that there’s no one there, she still lowers her voice. “When I saw he was your pair, I wanted to rescue you right away, but fucking Taylor pulled me with him and I didn’t get the chance.”

Oh. “Oh.”

“Is it too awkward?” She keeps her inquiry, holding your hand close to her chest. “We could ask them to switch so we can do the rest together, I’m sure Evan’s too plastered to notice.”

“Nia, I-” You smile as you come to realize that she pulled you aside just to check if you’re uncomfortable, having witnessed first-hand your whines and cries over Harry last year. “It’s okay, really. It’s not that bad, surprisingly.”

“Really?” Nia blinks, taken aback. “I- What happened?”

“Nothing.” You reassure her with a squeeze on her hand. “We’re just chatting, it’s not that awkward.”

“Okay.” She nods and nods, before falling serious again. “But if anything happens you just have to scream for me and I’ll be right there, okay?”

“Okay.” You say, pulling her for a brief hug. “Thanks, Ni.”

The two of you return inside just as Taylor brings up his brother’s hair sculpture collection that’s being exhibited at a local gallery — a subject you already have been the victim of hearing for about an hour during New Year’s and, by Harry’s face, he seems as helpless as you did back then. Nia doesn’t waste a second before pulling her pair away, “Let’s go, pal, those clues won’t solve themselves,” she shoots you a look over her shoulder, pushing Taylor towards the living room and you chuckle.

“He really is one of a kind, that man,” Harry says with a sigh before meeting your gaze. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, just lady talk.” You brush aside. “Let’s find those poets, shall we?”

“We shall.” Harry smiles, looking around for a second before guiding you down the hallway, turning just before entering the kitchen where a staircase. This is a way that — like the greenhouse — you’ve never been to. Still, Harry navigates so casually as if it were his own home and, to some degree, you suppose it is. You follow him up the first flight of steps, stopping just before turning into the next one where a door you never really noticed before stands. Harry rests his hand on the handle, turning to you before saying, “There’s an office hidden right here.”

You watch as he opens it, motioning for you to walk in first. And, indeed, the inside of it is an office, just a bit smaller than the living room on the opposite side of the house. Two bookcases that go from the floor to the ceiling mostly covered the wall, only leaving a single space in the middle for a dark wooden cabinet. In front of it, an L-shaped desk takes up the middle of the room, most of it is filled with files and paper stacks, as well as two computers lying asleep. For a moment, you just stand by the doorway, admiring this room you’ve never known of its existence, your eyes quickly sweeping through the bookshelves completely packed with dark cover books of all sorts. “Do you think this is where it could be?”

“Probably, yeah.” Harry nods, turning on the lights. “I don’t know where else he could have any poetry hidden.”

You move towards one bookshelf, the one closest to the door, reaching to brush your finger through the spines perfectly lined. “But look at the size of these, we’ll take forever to find anything in here.”

“Those big ones are mostly law books, I think,” Harry says, opening cabinets at the other side of the room, right next to where a white couch stands. He turns to look at you, “His sister’s a lawyer, this is her office.” Harry says, “But Evan’s got a corner right here where he keeps some of his stuff— like books of sorts. It’s the only place I could think of.”

You hum, not knowing exactly what to respond to this information.

“You can go through the ones on that side, it could be there as well.” Harry nods towards a cabinet right next to the door where you came from, and you nod.

The first two cabinets are of no luck, both being mostly filled with boxes full of children’s books and old toys — some of them mixed with more stacks of paper, but those, instead of having long texts, have drawings of all kinds from what you could gather in a glance, from child-like scribbles to actual sketches. You can hear Harry going through drawers on the other side of the room and, upon closing another empty cabinet, you peek at him, watching his broad back flexing under his shirt as he moves around. Averting your eyes as swiftly as you looked, it’s still enough to bring warmth to your cheeks.

Finally, you open the cabinet at the very bottom of the shelf. On the top, there are piles of DVDs, most being different variations of Barbie movies, but, right at the bottom, you find books. You don’t stop to check their genre at first, simply moving them away until you stumble upon a small box, the top of it marked with the word ‘prize’. “Found it!” You call back, taking the box away from the pile before setting the books back in place again. “Under Rupi Kaur? Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure she’s very alive.”

“Don’t tell Evan that,” Harry says as he crouches next to you, taking the box from your hands. Inside, there are, as expected, two tiny bottles like the ones you found before but, what calls both your attention, is a small bag of sweets lying in the middle. Harry takes it, “Oh, those are nice.”

He hands it to you and you open it, quickly shoving a jelly candy into your mouth before nodding. “Yeah.”

“So…” Harry starts, peeking over his shoulder, “Do you want to go back there?”

You glance at him, his eyes hovering above yours, lips twitching up just barely. “Uh… Maybe not right now.” You answer, “Unless you feel like sharing our Jellies with other people.”

Harry only laughs, shaking his head as he sits back and you do so too, right next to him. He reaches for his pocket, presenting another tiny bottle, the one you found inside his birdhouse, “We still got these.”

“Right!” You fetch your own out of the pocket of your jacket.

Harry opens his, holding it up towards you. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.” You say, mimicking him.

Both of you down your drinks, the liquid tasting bitter, like medicine on your tongue, the only reminder of alcohol being the burn as it slides down your throat. You rest your head back on the cabinet behind you as the two of you fall into silence once more. A part of your mind is already beginning to swim around the space inside your head, and you decide to not take the last drink just yet, laying it next to your leg. Though you’ve only had the equivalent of two shots, you realize the long break you’ve had from drinking for the past couple of months -- which wasn’t exactly an intentional choice, but more like the result of your lack of free time -- is showing itself to have been enough to make you more of a lightweight.

And even though the night so far has been strikingly surprising in terms of how comfortable you felt being around Harry again, it doesn’t mean the questions you’ve been carrying since last year have gotten any quieter. They’ve only gotten louder. More persistent, even. The curiosity you feel to know what happened is almost suffocating now. And you’d be damned if you let a drunken mind stop you from having this conversation.

You glance at him from the corner of your eyes, only watching the back of his head bobbing along with the music -- still the piano -- that comes faintly from behind the closed door. Your lips part, feeling the question form right at the tip of your tongue, but not knowing how to voice the words. Will it be awkward? You think so, but what if it ruins the night? Tonight, that’s been so oddly refreshing. A night that only served to remind you how you became so infatuated with him in the first place.

But you know you won’t be able to let go of this ich inside your head unless you bring it up. And you want to, you do, but as you take too long to think of the right way to do so, Harry decides to break the silence, murmuring next to you, “That’s a good one.”

Your brows knit together, trying to make out any trace of familiarity within the song that’s playing, but you don't find any, which only leaves you even more confused. “Do you like classical?”

“Love,” Harry says simply, his eyes closed as he moves his head with the piano keys. “Especially this one. One of the greatest works from one of the greatest contemporary composers: Billie Eilish.”

Your lips fall open, “Shut up. Is she playing this?”

Harry laughs, a full one, that brings a grin to poke at your lips. “I mean, as far as I’m aware, no. It’s a version of her song — listen in.” He points to his ear, nodding with the melody as he sings along, “So you’re a tough guy, like it really rough guy.”

You shake your head incredulously, “Of course he’s playing classical versions of pop songs!”

“Did you really think Evan had a taste for Chopin or Debussy?” Harry asks both dimples poking on his cheeks.

“I think at this point I’d believe anything you tell me about him.”

Both of you laugh, the air surrounding you light and warm, before falling quiet again. This time, however, you simply stare at each other for a beat. You watch his eyes, with their almost hypnotizing jade shade, glancing between your own. He rolls his lip between his teeth, nibbling at it. This is the closest you’ve been to him all night, and the details on his face only feel like a reminder of your doubts. Like the nostalgia you feel with a bittersweet memory.

“Should we-“ You stop, the words falling from your lips before you can think about them. “Should we talk about the elephant in the room?”

You half expect Harry to frown, to play dumb, and question you the meaning behind your words. For a second, you even expect him to shake his head, to get up and leave the room. And, for some reason, you kinda want him to do so. To finally break the mask of the nice, sweet guy he’s been putting on all night and allow himself to play the role of cold prick you put him on for the past months.

But he doesn’t do it. He only gives you a short smile. “I was thinking about how to bring it up.” Harry’s gaze falls to his lap for a beat as he scratches his nose. “We should, yeah.”

You nod, more to yourself than to him. This is it. The moment to ask what you’ve been waiting for for six months now. You decide not to think much anymore, allowing the question to roll freely, “I don’t really know how to word this better but- pardon my French- what the fuck happened?”

Harry chuckles, but not an amused one. It’s more of a dry, nervous laugh. “How cliche is it if I tell you I was really fucking stupid?”

“Pretty cliche.” You say, “But also pretty true, I suppose.”

“I’m sorry for that.” He looks up, eyes meeting yours again, his own softening upon seeing you. “I really am.”

“Thank you for apologizing.” You smile a little, “But I think I deserve an explanation.”

“You do.” He speaks quietly before clearing his throat. For a second, he doesn’t say anything else, just takes a sharp breath, focusing on his fingers that play with the hem of his trousers. “I- Uhm- I know this might come as a surprise, but I’m not very good at letting people down.”

“A bit, I guess.” You try to humor, but your tone doesn’t show it. You sound quiet, hurt.

He peeks up at you, and continues, “Jess- the girl you met at the premiere- she’s lovely and all, but- how do I say this- we were never really supposed to be together.” Harry sighs, “I didn’t like her like that.”

You frown, “Then, why did you?”

“A couple of months before we met- before Evan even mentioned the film project to me, one of my mates kept insisting that I should meet his sister.” He pauses, “That was Jess.”

“I figured.”

Harry nods, “As I said, she’s a lovely girl, really nice, but we just- didn’t click like that, you know?” You hum in agreement, ignoring a small twist in your stomach when he repeats the endearment term. “But I guess she really wanted to try it, and, for months, I just kept pushing and pushing, cause I thought maybe with time I could bring myself to feel the same way.” And then again, another humorless laugh, “But- spoiler alert- I couldn’t and I should’ve just told her that.”

Your mouth hangs open for a beat before you decide against saying anything. It’s clear as you watch him explain that the entire situation for him felt more complicated than you’d ever considered. Not once did you think about the possibility of him being caught in a twist of his own decisions, and not once did you regard his feelings with the whole situation. In your bubble of gloominess, all you could think of was how he played you and used you for a bit before moving on to the next girl that fell for his sweet talk.

Looking at him now, however, his head low and brows set on a permanent crease, lips frowning down, you can feel the internal conflict pooling out of his pores. You’re not sure if it’s exactly a look of remorse that he gives you, but it sure seems close to it.

Harry huffs in what feels like frustration as he keeps recalling the events, “But all my mates kept taking the piss, pushing me to ask her out and then, in the middle of it, I met you.” He finally smiles a bit, and you have to look down to hide the warmth that spreads on your cheeks, “And we-uh-” He shrugs, “I mean, we clicked, didn’t we?”

“I think so.” You say, just above a whisper.

“I think so, too,” Harry says, holding your gaze with his own. “And when I was with you I let myself forget about that, forget about the pressure to be with someone else, I guess.” His lips fall again, eyes meeting his lap, “But when we came back, there wasn’t much running away from it anymore. The night we got back I met that friend of mine and, I’m not sure if he said anything to Jess, but she asked me out.”

“And you said yes.”

“I said yes.” He repeats, shaking his head, “I shouldn’t have, but I said yes.”

“So you just dated her? Even if you didn’t like her like that?” You say, trying to understand his thought process. Even if his words tug at your heartstrings -- which you try to not think about right now -- you still can’t help but feel a bit for the other girl.

“I thought I could- I don’t know, I thought with time maybe I could-” He stumbles around with his speech, before finally letting out a sigh, “I don’t know what was going through my head, to be honest. I was a prick.”

“At least you can admit to it.”

“I was a prick to both of you.”

You fall quiet, hoping he takes your silence as an agreement. When he doesn’t offer anything else, you speak up again, “Did it work, though?” He frowns, and you clarify, “Letting time force feelings into you?”

“I found very quickly how hard it is to develop feelings for someone when there’s someone else on your mind.” He says, and you bite back a smile that wants to spread on your lips.

“It’s very easy to say that now.”

“I know.” He agrees, “And I wish I could’ve realized that earlier, before even bringing you into this mess.” Harry reaches for your wrist, which lies on top of your lap, giving it a gentle squeeze. “For that I really am sorry.”

“I know you are.” You reassure, turning your hand to find his, squeezing it back. “And what happened to Jess?”

“She was rightfully upset when I told her.” His thumb brushes against your knuckles, moving the rings on your fingers around just slightly, and it’s almost enough to distract you from his voice. “We broke up a day after the premiere.”

“Ouch.”

“But it’s fine now, she’s got a boyfriend now who actually cares for her the way she deserves,” Harry says.

“That’s nice to hear, at least.”

“It is, yeah.”

You look down at your hands locked in your lap, squeezing his one more time before letting it go with a sigh. “You really made a big mess, huh?”

He chuckles, a guilty smile poking on his face, “I did.”

You nod, finally reaching for the tiny bottle left forgotten next to you, opening it. This time you only take a sip, but it’s still enough to end half of the liquid inside. You click your tongue, “I’m glad we talked, though.” You look up at Harry again, who’s already watching you, giving a small tap on his thigh. “It’s nice to have closure, you know? To give it a conclusion and wrap with a nice little bow.”

Harry rolls his lip inside his mouth, “Is this a conclusion, then?”

You raise your brows, “Is it not?”

“I guess it could be.” He shrugs one shoulder, leaning closer to you just barely, eyes trained in yours. “But I’m hoping that, after today, maybe we could start over?”

You laugh, scrunching your nose at him as you shake your head. “Not a start over, no.” You poke his side, “You’re not getting away that easy.”

“You’re right.” He says, still not budging as he frowns his lips. “But I wish it didn’t have to be an ending as well.”

“Is that so?”

Harry nods, you can tell his eyes hold a shyness that wasn’t here a minute ago, but at the same time -- as paradoxically as it seems -- there’s a boldness as well, one you’re more familiar with. “Maybe we could chat again. This time with fewer ice breaker cards and more bags of sweets.”

You smile, rubbing your chin as you pretend to ponder about his suggestion. “That does sound very promising.”

“I really do think we clicked.” He drops his playful tone as if wanting to make sure you feel the sincerity behind his words. “Wasn’t just saying it.”

“I know.” You say, “And I think so, too.”

His smirk grows, and he doesn’t offer anything else to say, but you can tell he’s holding something back. With the silence, you suddenly become too aware of the way your arms brush together, and how his knee bumps against yours. You notice how his eyes fall a bit from yours, so quickly you could’ve imagined it, but you choose to not think so. If you lean forward, you know he will too, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction. You’re not letting yourself make the first move.

Surely, you’re aware these thoughts are a direct result of the alcohol sweeping through your mind, testing how much of your pride you’re willing to ignore. There’s no questioning of the wall that you built all those months ago after walking out of this very house with this very man on your tail blurring out apologies. It still stands, tall and strong, and you're not letting sweet words mixed with a drink or two pull it down. Not that easily. But at this moment, looking at his stupidly beautiful face with his stupidly beautiful eyes so close to you, you feel like maybe you could peek through a window, or open up a door — just a creek, just to have a sample of what it would feel like if you were to pull it down.

“Do you want to go back?” Harry asks again, this time more quietly, this time his question has a different implication than it did before.

You're quick to shake your head, voice quiet, “Not yet.”

The corner of his lips quirk up and you raise your brows, silently daring him to ask what he’s been holding. You see his hand moving from the corner of your eyes, but you don’t break your gaze from his, not even when you feel his fingertips moving so gently against your cheekbone, brushing your hair away from your face. Harry leans closer, again just barely, and again, you stay still, only smiling softly in encouragement. Now, you’re stuck in your own silent conversation; both seeking the same thing but not making the move to achieve it -- either for pride or apprehension.

“I’d really like to kiss you right now,” Harry whispers finally, eyes moving down again, this time slowly, making sure that his intentions are clear.

“Do it, then.” You tease.

Harry breathes out a laugh, his hand caressing its way down to your jaw. He rubs his thumb against your cheek, a feathery touch, taking another second to look at you before pulling you in. Your eyes fall closed, as you focus on your senses, and allow yourself to peek from that window, or creek that door open just a bit, to have just this moment to remember when you first got lost in his touch.

First, it’s the warmth of his breath tickling your cupid bow, making your hold your own breath in anticipation. Then, the tip of his nose, gentle against your own, and you can’t help but lean in a bit more when you feel the ghost of his lips on yours. But he pulls back, just so slightly, hoping to have you reach for him again. Except you don’t, knowing what he’s trying to do.

“Uh-uh,” you shake your head, pulling back just a bit to look him in the eye. “You don’t get to tease me.”

Harry huffs out a laugh, “That’s fair.”

This time, there’s no teasing. Still, he goes in just as slowly as he did the first time around, curving his lips around your bottom one so softly it almost makes you lean in again. His kiss is cloud-like in a way that makes you a bit dizzy and when he presses his lips harder, you have to refrain from letting out a dreamy sigh -- still too stubborn to give him the satisfaction. It’s when you feel the tip of his tongue poking out to lick at your bottom lip in a silent request, that you pull away completely.

It’s your turn to smirk now, licking your lips before announcing, “I think we should go back now.”

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