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boygiwrites · 8 months

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Harley D. Dixon 10

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📖Chapter List.

Author's Note. Stressful chapter below! Enjoy!

"Is that—? Are those Pokémon cards?!"

I'm holding hands with Sophia, wandering down the highway, when Carl suddenly runs ahead of us. He presses his hands and his face against a random car window with a painful clunk sound, but he continues grinning wide, from ear to ear. Me and Sophia catch up and stand on our tip-toes on either side of him, peering inside. They're both four years older than me, and taller, so I have to hop a little to see what they're seein', like a little piece of popcorn, but wow — He's right! There they are!

A book filled with Pokémon cards, tossed open on the back seat.

They shimmer rainbow-colors under a honeyed beam of sunlight, like little gems.

"Woah!" I exclaim, pointing at the magical display. "They're all rare, too! Look!"

Carl squeals, "That one's a GX card!"

T-Dog chooses this moment to stroll past us, muttering, little nerds, under a small smile.

We continue ogling at the cards.

"How do we get in?" I ask, tugging on the locked door.

Sophia hums contemplatively, looking around. She spots something. "Hey," She points, "There's a sun-roof!"

Ooooooh.

"Good idea."

"It'll open, right?" Carl grins at us. "We can climb in!"

Sophia asks, "Who's gonna do it?"

"Harley, you're smallest." He says, turning to me. "I think you should do it."

"Yeah." Sophia nods.

They stare at me expectantly, with big eyes, like puppies.

"I don't got a choice, do I?"

Sophia giggles. "Nope! Get in there!"

I start walking to the front of the car.

"And if you find a Bulbasaur, I call dibs!" Carl adds.

Rolling my eyes, I clamber up onto the hood of the car. The hot metal reflects the bright ball of the sun back into my face like a little laser-beam, and I avoid touchin' it for too long 'cause it burns. Carefully, I balance one foot in front of the other all the way up the windshield. I crawl over it, onto the roof. I stand up on wobbly legs, excited. Sophia and Carl cheer from down below. I take in the miniature trees sitting on the horizon, and the cooling breeze, and then I slide the glass panel back and scoot myself over the sun-warmed edge.

I land with a soft plunk on the glove compartment.

I duck down. I scoop up the giant booklet of Ultra Rare Pokémon cards with some effort. It's real heavy.

"Yes." I celebrate to myself.

One of 'em is a Lugia card. He's one of my favorites, 'cause he's real big and strong. I decide to pull the card out its sleeve and stuff it for safe-keeping in my jean-short pocket to look at later. I see Eevee, too. I bet Sophia will love that one.

I hear a dry hiss. Looking up, I realize there's a walker buckled into the driver's seat.

Time to get out, I reckon.

I chuck the folder onto the roof and climb back out, sliding the sun-roof closed behind me.

"Guys, I got it." I pant lightly as I sit down. "I got it!"

I did it.

"Guys?"

What's bizarre about this next moment is that they don't answer me.

My ears start ringing.

"Guys?"

They're gone.

I look out across the scattered highway, struck by the sudden silence. I have a good view from up here and yet all I can see are cars and tarmac and trees. There's no Carl or Sophia. There's no Dad, or Shane, or Rick. There's no Jacqui, or Carol, or Lori. There's no man-made ambience, no movement, no nothing. The forest rustles plainly on either side of the highway as if it's swallowed everybody up.

The whole group has disappeared.

"Sophia?"

Nothing.

"Carl?"

Nothing.

"Dad?"

And again, nothing.

For a horrifying moment, I think I've been left behind. It don't make no sense, 'cause I know they'd never leave without me, but I'm scared, and it don't gotta make sense. Freshly panicked, I lean over the roof and peer down the aisle of cars, searching, searching, searching, praying, praying, praying. People don't just vanish outta thin air. What the Hell is goin' on? Where did everyone go so quickly?

This is when I spot Glenn, just by chance, crouched behind a distant car.

Wait, no, he's hiding behind it.

What's he doing?

Then I spot Carl and Sophia, and then Lori and Jacqui, and Rick, and my Dad, too, all huddled underneath different cars.

Oh, that's where they were. They were hiding?

Is that what's happening? Everyone's... playing hide and seek?

"What're you doin'?" I whisper-shout.

Glenn pops his head out. He spots me right away. When he sees where I am, his eyes widen. I start to stand back up again, wanting to go over to him, but he frantically gestures for me to get down. Is this—? Is this part of the game? Confused, I kneel back down, but he keeps waving his hand, get down, get down, so I guess I have to keep going. I slide onto my stomach. My chin rests against the roof. He nods. This is good. I stay like this. I watch as he glances from me, to behind me, from me, to behind me. He rocks nervously, clenching and unclenching his fists.

Sophia cups both her hands over her mouth, her eyes shining with tears. Carl trembles, crying. Rick breathes heavily.

What is goin' on?

They're all looking behind me.

I follow the direction of everybody's panic, craning my neck to look over my shoulder.

My skin drains all at once when I see it.

It's the herd.

It moves up the highway in a mingling throb of decaying bodies. I try to count, but— but I can't. I go up by twos until I hit fifty — Fifty. That's three classrooms worth of people — and this is when I realize something far worse is happening than what I was imagining.

I face forward again, suddenly matching everybody's sweaty, papery complexion — suddenly understanding.

They are playing hide and seek.

But just not with each other.

The herd continues its slow decent upon us, groaning together as one.

We make ourselves as still as possible.

One by one after Glenn, the rest of the group spot me, and one by one, they all go pale. I know why. Oh God, I know why. This is the worst place to be. If I was under a car like they are, the herd might be able to sniff me out, but at least they wouldn't be able to see me. Up here, I'm on full display. I'm on eye-level. I'm on nose-level. I have absolutely no protection on any of my sides. I'm basically a prime steak in a butcher's display window, singing, come here, eat me first.

I am in so much danger right now.

The group realize this and immediately start trying to help me.

They gesture and mouth different things to me, unable to move from their spots. Rick and Lori are wildly waving, come here, come here right now. Should I? My Dad and Shane, they're waving just as wildly, do not come here, stay right there. I try very hard not to cry. I have about three seconds to decide what to do before the herd reaches us. Half of the group are nodding and half of them are shaking their heads.

I end up freezing. I don't know what to do.

Live or die.

Stay or climb down.

I— I don't know which one is live and which one is die!

Carl and Sophia cry even harder, shushed and coddled by their terrified mothers.

Three.

My Dad makes a sawing motion over his neck, mouthing furiously, do not move.

Two.

Rick flicks his fingers, mouthing urgently, come here, honey.

One.

Thunk, thunk, thunk.

They've reached the car.

The three seconds are up.

Everybody is forced to retreat further into their hidey holes. I lay my head down, plastering myself against the metal. I see Rick soundlessly growl to himself in frustration, and my Dad watching on in bated, controlled horror as the herd begins to seamlessly merge with us.

The first walker is a skinny lady with teeth-colored eyeballs, leaking clear gunk down her rotten cheeks. She bites at the air, twitching her face in my direction. I watch as she recognises a whiff of my scent on the breeze, tastes it with her open mouth, and then croaking dryly, decides to continue lumbering past. I'm relieved, but not for long. This is only one win. It has to happen at least forty-nine more times, and we all know the chances of that are grim. One of them is going to find me. There's just no way they won't.

Thunk, thunk, thunk.

The walkers palm their way down the car, ambling by in hungry clusters.

From underneath me, inside the car, there's another thunk, thunk, thunk-ing.

I glance through the sun-roof.

The driver's managed to wiggle himself outta his seat-belt. He paws at the glass, tickling my belly through it.

I make an awful squeak noise.

I slap my hand over my mouth.

Terrified, I watch as the closest walkers swivel their heads in my direction. They break off and begin to shuffle their way over to me, oh God, against the flow of the herd. I can do nothing but squirm a few inches away as they bunch up along the left side of the car, feeling it out. They bulge their eyes wide open, desperate to see what made the sound. Their chipped and wrinkly fingers slither their way onto the roof. Oh, no. They pad around, bumping into the Pokémon folder. It gets knocked close to the edge, ready to fall.

On reflex, I smack my hand down onto it.

In my peripheral, I can see Rick, Shane, and my Dad all watching, all itching to help me.

One gray hand and two blistered, yellow ones curl around the book, pulling on it. I pinch the corner of the cover, the only thing I can really reach now, and I try pulling it back. Thunk, thunk, thunk. As I contort myself, my shirt raises above my belly-button.

I hear someone hiss in pain nearby.

I almost let the book slip but catch it at the last second.

Straining, I look up, worried. Through the mess of necks and arms and ankles, I glimpse T-Dog, clutching his bleeding hand.

Oh, God. Is he okay?

Fingers prod at my bare belly.

I almost burst a lung trying to repress my scream, but it works. I don't scream. I moan uncomfortably as the driver pokes and swipes his finger pads against my skin, through a crack in the sun-roof. I arch away from him, and away from the herd. Inevitably — Away from the book, too. The corner of it slips from my fingers, and I have exactly half a second to process the feeling of my stomach dropping like a sack of bricks, right before the entire folder careens over the edge. Splat. I hear every last crinkly, plastic page hit the ground.

And so do the herd.

Like one big choir, they groan with delight, turning in my direction.

Carol tucks Sophia's face into her neck as she cries.

Carl hides his face in his arms.

I wish I could tell them that this isn't their fault. I wanted the cards, too.

Suddenly, the small crowd of walkers becomes a big one, and then an even bigger one. They lump in together until there's at least twenty of 'em groping at me, rocking the car underneath me, growling and snarling and spitting and gnashing ferally. I scuttle backwards, but they're on the other side now, too. They're smacking the trunk. They're leaning over the hood. Their forearms stretch out over the roof from every side, and I'm forced to stand, now, my feet corralled into the tiny square of the sun-roof. The driver licks at my shoes. I can't even jump off. I'm surrounded.

I look up, panicked.

Immediately, I see that Rick has been stalking toward me under the cover of nearby cars. He's reached T-Dog, half-way to where I am. He's helping wrap a scrap of cloth around his bleeding palm, glancing at me nervously. A walker brushes past them both.

My Dad, he's been movin' closer, too. He cranks a bolt into the string off his crossbow, kneeling in the crevice of an open car door.

Shane drives his knife into the soft nape of a walker, laying it down onto the tarmac after, creeping forward.

They look vaguely synchronized, as if they've made a plan and are executing it.

Whatever it is, I sure hope it works.

The car rocks harshly, like a mechanical bull.

I nearly lose my footing.

Fwip!

Thump!

A walker slumps onto the hood, an arrow sticking up through its scalp.

Fwip!

Another walker on the hood is shot.

The main crowd of walkers grope at my ankles.

Why's he not shootin' these ones?

I point down at them, pleading silently, please, Dad, 'cause these ones are closer to biting me.

Fwip!

He chooses to shoot another hood-walker, instead.

Rick silently approaches, just a few feet away. He gently smacks a car door, emitting quiet clap-clap-clap sounds. Some of the walkers all sprawled across the hood turn their attention away from me and onto him. This is where I start to piece together what they're doing. They're targeting the walkers on the hood to clear me a path, so I can— I can what? Run? Rick stabs the closest walker through the eye socket, gesturing once more for me to climb down. I glance at my Dad, and this time, he's gesturing the same thing, and so is Shane, who sneaks closer and downs another one of the hood-walkers.

He and Rick are pushed back. They continue smacking cars and drawing 'em away.

Fwip!

The last walker on the hood is silenced.

"Run!" My Dad suddenly whisper-shouts, pointing frantically at the woods.

Wh—?

Run?

Is that the plan?

Rick whispers what I think is, "We'll find you!"

"Go!" Shane hisses.

It is the plan.

They've given me an opportunity to run.

I did it at the quarry.

I can do it again.

This is how I end up sliding down the windshield, leaping over the guard-rails, and sprinting for my life across a grassy field, headed for a dark forest filled with even more walkers. This is crazy, this is crazy, I chant in my head, dodging a walker that lunges for me. I duck, trip; pick myself back up, covered in grass and dirt. I barrel toward the forest. The sun beams overhead. Behind me, I hear the herd growling, breaking off into little chunks that stumble after me down the hill. I swerve around one, two, and oh God, three more pairs of walker-hands. My brow drips with sweat.

I am running away from everything I know.

I don't have a choice.

The shadowed thicket swallows me whole, and I just keep running, running, running, over rocks and logs and ditches and walkers.

Everything is a blur of brown and green and death, and I hear a river — water, mud, that'll leave clear foot-prints, and my Dad'll find those — and so I veer off down a shallow incline, surfing the dry leaves and cutting my skin on pointy rocks, until I reach the bottom. My shoes smack into the mud — Yes, good — and I keep goin', scraping by walkers that cling to the trees and walkers that come crawling up out of the water. I break as many twigs and branches as I can to leave behind a trail — a bread-crumb trail like in Hansel and Gretel — so that I can be tracked.

I follow the river for what feels like ten minutes, and then fifteen, and then twenty.

How far have I ran?

Where am I?

I run, and I run, and I run, skirting the weak river, wheezing, coughing, burning, and dodging stray walkers.

We'll find you.

They'll look for me, but maybe I can look for them, too, if I don't lose the river. I can follow it back to the highway.

My Dad knows all about tracking. Whenever my family went camping, which was basically every weekend, I's never allowed to skip stones or play hop-scotch like my cousins were. I always got dragged away, instead, by my Dad and the other men so we could go track turkeys in the woods for hours on end. They'd point to a pile of droppings, or a talon-shaped imprint in the ground, or even a twig that weren't placed right, and they'd whisper, 'cause we had to be quiet, Wow, ain't that interesting, Harley? Alone, the clues were useless. But together, like pieces of a puzzle, they formed an intricate map that only they could see. My Dad once tracked one'a those turkeys for seven miles. He could track a darn ant, if he wanted.

I'm not sure if I've covered seven miles yet, but I know even if I covered a hundred, my Dad would still find me.

I run until my lungs feel like empty paper bags and my muscles sing with pain.

Exhausted, I come to a stop at the base of a thick tree with giant, snaking roots, and I crawl underneath, into a nook in the dirt.

I look up at the sky through the gaps, feeling like a trapped bunny in a burrow.

I hear frogs playing in the stream.

I start to cry.

All I can think about is whether or not everyone back at the highway made it out safely.

I wonder if the herd has passed by now, and if T-Dog's hand is okay.

I wonder if anybody got hurt tryna save me, and I cry even harder, 'cause I really, really hope not.

I wonder what's gonna happen next.

Like a golden cough drop, the sun begins to sink down through the canopy in a syrupy glow, its light sliding over me. West. Okay, that direction is West. I'll remember that. I watch as the sky envelops the setting sun, replacing it with purples and oranges and reds. Slowly, the crickets come out, flickering songs into the warm air all around me. It gets darker. The purples bruise into blacks. The stars come out, and then the moon. A distant coyote howls at it.

The frogs continue croaking and splashing.

A mosquito bites my neck.

I slap it, cringing.

This is going to be a long night.

Author's Note.

If you're wondering about what's going to happen to Sophia... don't get your hopes up 😭

I changed this around a little bit, and there's more changes to come, but overall it will be the same.

I hope you were sufficiently stressed out while reading this chapter, and that you enjoyed it, haha. It was a little short but I was just so excited to post it, and I couldn't help myself.

Thanks for reading, everyone :)

Sending love! <3

#the walking dead #twd fanfiction #twd #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon daughter #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon #daddy issues #angst #rick grimes #shane walsh #fanfic #ao3 fanfic

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house-of-slayterr · 1 year

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The Day after Yesterday, and There Little Hope For Tomorrow:

Tag: @myers-meadow-selfship @oceansrose2002 @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better @queer-and-utter-chaos

An: I’m not sure what part this is but I’ll ask Cy and fix it after.

Doe Eyes POV:

The lights shown through Otis’s curtains. It was morning already? By the looks of it, it was actually well past morning. How long was I asleep? I quickly shot out of bed, throwing the blanket off and slipping on my slippers. These floors got cold at night. I went to open the door but it was locked. I frowned.

Why the hell would he lock the door? I groaned, about to resign myself to being stuck. I turned back around and flopped on the bed.

But wasn’t that all the more reason to stay? What would have happened to me if Otis and Blinky hadn’t been there. Well, if it wasn’t for Otis, that man never would have been here, and if it wasn’t for Blinky… neither would I. I sighed, running a hand through my hair. My braid had come loose in the night and I’d have to fix it.

But I was more concerned about the youngest member of the family. Where the hell was Blinky. There’s no way they could be ok after last night. And I wasn’t in the headspace to help either.

Suddenly the door handle jiggled and the door was pushed open. Otis smiled lazily at me, and I couldn’t help but think he looked so pretty right now. Happier than usual. A smile suited him.

“Morning Princess.” He said.

“You locked me in here.”

“That was for your own safety. We had to make sure he didn’t bring anyone else with him. Nobody tracking us.”

I nodded solemnly. Otis sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Feeling any better than last night?”

“Yeah, umm, still a little shaken but that’s not what I’m worried about.”

He sighed, turning his body to face mine.

“You’re worried about the kid.” He said flatly.

“Aren’t you? That- that was a lot last night. For anyone. And then they just ran away.” I said.

“Yeah they beat the shit out of that guy didn’t they?”

There was a sense of pride in his voice. And I couldn’t lie, I was in a way impressed. I never expected Blinky to be capable of doing something like that. Their strength was incredibly deceptive. I learned that when they hugged me that night and it felt like I would break in their arms.

“Otis-“ I said firmly.

“Look Blinky may seem all social on the outside, but they like to be alone sometimes. It’s just what they do, they sneak off, hide and come back out when they’re ready.”

“Doesn’t that worry you at all? That’s not a healthy way to deal with things Otis. They need to talk to one of us. I know they’re 18 but in a lot of ways they’re still a child. They don’t know how to deal with these things.”

Otis placed a hand on my shoulder.

“That’s Sweet of you Doe, but Blinky is strong. They always come out on the other side when they get like this.”

“Like this?”

“Withdrawn, quiet as a mouse, it’s something to do with their autism I think. I tried to learn a little about it, but I figure it’s better to just give them what they ask for. Only they know how they’re feeling and what can help.”

“Which is exactly why they should be talking. How are we supposed to help them feel better if they won’t let us?”

It was small, but I spotted it in his eyes. It was the smallest look of adoration, which he quickly tried to hide. I suppose he didn’t want anyone to think he was getting soft. He was so frustrating.

“Approach them slowly, and don’t make any loud noises. You sorta gotta treat ‘em like a scared animal. Not sure you’ll get them to talk, but you can try. If it means that much to ya, I’ll try and talk to them too. I just came in to let you out, I gotta go back in town with RJ in a little bit to get a part for his truck.”

“Ok, thank you. Stay safe?” I asked.

“Always”

He said, getting up from the bed and shooting me a wink. I rolled my eyes, quickly rushing out the door after him to RJ’s room.

I began looking around the house, as expected they weren’t in their room. RJ was the only other one home, and he said he hadn’t seen them. I checked the usual places, the roof, the wash room, the garden, even the roof. Nothing.

I decided to head down to the basement, wondering if Tiny had seen them. I was not expecting what I saw when I came down there. There was Blinky in one of Tiny’s gigantic sweaters, curled up in a ball on his chest as they both slept. It would have been an adorable sight if not for Blinky still being caked in blood. I cringed, scrunching up my nose in disgust. We’d have to fix that immediately. Normally I wouldn’t wake them, but this seemed more important. I gently walked over to them, my hand didn’t even touch them before their eyes began to peel open.

“Doe eyes?” They said, sleepily rubbing their eyes.

I tried to give them the best smile I could.

“What are you doing down here?”

They sat up, stretching. Tiny was a heavy sleeper so he didn’t even notice.

“We gotta get you cleaned up Blink.” I said softly.

They shook there head no. I frowned.

“Are you feeling ok?”

Another head shake, shit. I kneeled near the edge of the bed and looked them in the eyes. I didn’t dare touch them right now, in case that would make it worse.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

They shrugged. Despite my better judgment, I brushed a strand of hair out of their face that had blood in it. It seems Tiny must have tied up their hair with some spare rope, because it was sloppy and messy. This was going to be a nightmare to fix.

“Come on Blink, we really need to get this stuff off of you.”

“Ok” they said softly.

It was weird seeing them shy and reserved like this. Sure sometimes they were quiet and observant, but that was quickly followed by their usual bubbly persona right after. This was just sad, their eyes looked so dull right now. I grabbed their hand and tried to pull them up, but they wouldn’t budge. I sighed.

“What if we bring Sir Issac Newton in the bath, then you won’t have to be alone.”

“Will you stay?”

“Of course.” I said.

The followed me up the stairs and we stopped by their room to grab the aforementioned teddy bear. It could probably use a bath itself if I was being honest. Blinky dragged that thing everywhere with them around the house, into the garden as well.

They sat on the toilet lid while I prepared the bath water. I had to make sure it wasn’t too hot or too cold. I didn’t want them to go into shock. Or set off their sensory issues. I’ve never witnessed one of their meltdowns before, and I really hoped I’d never have to. I want sure how well I could handle that, and I certainly didn’t want to see them in pain like that. They may have just brutally smashed someone’s face in only hours ago, but they didn’t deserve that.

I poured some bubble bath into the tub. They’re probably have to bath twice if we were going to get all the blood off. Especially with how pourous their hair is, the blood had probably soaked in before it dried. I scrunched my nose again at the thought. I don’t know why I didn’t expect it, but they were watching me closely.

“You’re disgusted by me.” I heard a small voice.

I’d never heard Blinky talk so quiet before, I was almost convinced I made it up. But I could see the tail ends of their lips moving as I turned my head. I just starred at them for a moment.

“My mother had the same tic.”

They fidgeted with their hands, violently picking at their skin. I know Otis said not to touch them much when they were like this. But I couldn’t just stand there and let them rip apart their hands. If they were capable of something last night in periods of intense emotion. I could see them trying to pick for bone, and not stopping. I gentle placed my hand on top of their, silencing the moment.

“Blinky, you saved my life last night. How could I ever be disgusted with you?”

“Don’t lie to me Doe Eyes, you wanna know why I named you that? Because you were your emotions on your face. Your eyes are the most expressive I’ve ever had the pleasure of looking into. Entirely different from my own. You may be able go lie with your mouth, but you don’t have as much control over your face as you think you do.”

They said calmly. While there should have been anger, or disappointment, their voice was entirely flat and robotic right now. If not for the fidgeting, someone would think they were joking around and trying to be dramatic right now. But it was hard not to believe Blinky when they spoke. Especially in movements like this that were moments for grown ups.

But they were quite the same to me, except with their body language. Sure, it was more stiff and unnatural than everyone else. But once you learned to read them, you couldn’t unspot their distress cues. And I saw them last night, loud and clear when Otis didn’t. He was a proud dad, excited his kid finally joined the “family business” but I was an outsider. Not accustom to the families traditions yet.

A small part of me believes Blinky might have enjoyed last night. But the smart part of me tells me that’s probably lowest on the list of emotions they’re feeling right now. Despite how Otis and Baby and Spaulding made it look, killing wasn’t easy. Not only was it physically taxing, it had its mental effects to. Some people like Otis can walk it off, or even seek the thrill of their next kill. But some people made themselves sick over it, especially when it was akin to an accident.

Blinky shouldn’t have been there last night. All night as I sobbed I kept thinking what would have happened if they stayed asleep. Of course I was grateful for their actions. But they didn’t deserve to suffer like this because of my mistake, my carelessness and my stupid curiosity. Maybe this is how Otis started out too, and you just numb yourself to it over time. But right now we were here, in this moment, and Blinky hadn’t been mentally prepared to handle last night.

“Blinky can you look at me for a second?”

They made no attempt to move. I sighed, using a method Otis used when I first got here. Force…

But it wasn’t harsh. I had no intentions of hurting them. But I needed them to understand how serious I was being right now. I grabbed their chin and held it tight, forcing them to look at me. But when I had their attention, I didn’t know what to say.

“Thank you.” I said with full honesty.

They didn’t have to save me last night. They didn’t have to save me from Otis all those weeks ago. They didn’t have it be so nice to me every morning. But they were, and it made living here so much easier as time went on.

“Anyone in this house would have done the same.”

“But they didn’t. That was you Blinky, you saved my life. You took action and you didn’t hesitate. Otis did.” I hadn’t meant to say the last part.

But I saw it in his eyes. He was fighting with himself internally and that hurt my feelings. But as usual, I’d get over it. I could see the regret on his face after, once he snapped out of his own thoughts and realised what was happening. This was the first spark I saw in their eyes since they woke up.

“It was late, we were both tired, he didn’t mean it.” They defended immediately.

“I’m not mad at him Blinky, just like I’m not disgusted with you. Ok? That’s not your problem, please don’t worry yourself about it.”

“But he’s my dad, and you’re my best friend. I want you to get along.”

My heart almost broke. They consisted me their best friend? Not Baby, not Tiny, me? Someone who just got here? Someone who was just dropped into their lap. And I knew the dynamic the two had, but something about scarily hearing them refer to him as ‘dad’ did something to me. It was a feeling of warmth. Like he had potential and I wasn’t wasn’t my time and putting my heart on the line for no reason. They really did love each other, which meant he was capable of such an emotion earnestly. I just had to earn it.

“The baths going to overflow.” The warned flatly.

I sprung to my feet, shutting of the faucet and pulling the drain plug to let it drain for a few seconds before a single drop got on the floor. That was a close one. Not that bath water would be the worst thing I’ve cleaned off this floor. Not even close. I let out a shirt laugh as I caught it. It was such a silly thing to happen right now, during such a pivotal moment. When I looked back, the smallest smile had cracked on Blinky’s face as they tried not to laugh at the panicked look on my face.

“You think that was funny?”

“A little” they shrugged. “The timing was interesting.”

I rolled my eyes. But they made no move to get up off the toilet seat. Hugging their legs to their body. I frowned, walking over to them.

“Blinky you know you’re one of the strongest people in this house right?”

“No, Tiny is.”

I laughed slightly.

“I meant mentally my love, you can conquer anything.”

“You think so?”

“I do. You think you can get up?”

They nodded and I helped them up. It was clear they were in no state to bathe on their own. I heard sometimes in moments of intense stress, some autistic people revert to what is called a “little space” where they go back to childlike mannerisms and head space. And I think a little of that was starting right now.

Of course, Blinky always appeared child like to everyone. They were fun and bright and bubbly, and their fashion was whacky and bold. They practically skipped everywhere instead of walking. But this was different. I could tell their brain wasn’t spinning like it usually was. It was hard to describe how they were different, it wasn’t something that was tangible.

They slowly lifted their arms above their head and I pulled off Tiny’s sweater, discarding it on the counter. They still had their bloody sleep shorts on. They shivered a little as the cold air hit their skin. But that’s when I got a look at it, they had a bruise on their ribcage. Everything from last night was sort of a blur, but I do remember he tried to struggle. Maybe he elbowed them in the fight. I slowly reached out, touching their skin lightly.

“Doesn’t this hurt?” I asked.

“Doesn’t what hurt?”

They looked down at the bruise that was about the size of my palm.

“Oh, I didn’t notice it.” They shrugged.

This just made my frown deepen.

“I’ll be gentle washing around it.” I said softly.

They just nodded, letting me help undress them, and step into the bath tub. Otis had mentioned they hated showers, something about it feeling like needles in their skin. Of course they knew how to take a bath, but it felt right to walk them through it right now.

“I’m gonna have to use this little bucket to get all the blood out of your hair ok? Just cover your face, and if you need me to stop just grab my hand.” I said.

“Ok.”

They were able to scrub most of their body their self, but I helped around the bruise and to get their back. But the hard part would be getting their hair. The bath water was already red, so I instead got water from the sink. Blinky slowly covered their eyes as I poured some warm water in their head. It took a couples passes to get it wet enough to use shampoo.

“Smells like strawberries and jasmine.” They mumbled.

I smiled fondly. It seemed they were calming down a bit, willing to start a conversion instead of just finishing it.

“You like it? I picked it because it was closest to the one I used back home.”

They hummed.

“I wish I could smell like Cotton Candy.” They said softly.

It was weird hearing their voice this quiet and soft.

“Yeah? That would be nice wouldn’t it. What about funnel cakes?”

“I love funnel cakes.”

It was working to distract them as I tried to get a comb through their tangled locks. For a moment I thought it would be easier if we just cut it. But I would never do that to Blinky. Their hair was an important part of them. Personally and culturally. I don’t think anyone would dare cut it against their will. It was worth the extra effort to keep it nice and healthy.

I started brushing from the bottom, carful to avoid pulling to hard. But I doubt they’d even say anything if I did. They were a very private person. As much as they wanted to be in everyone else’s business. Not that it was a bad thing, they were just curious. Probably not used to having so many people to talk to.

“Have you ever had American funnel cake?”

“I don’t think I have, no. But I’m sure it much sweeter.”

“Mhhhmm, we could ask if Mama knows how to make it. Or see if Spaulding knows any country fairs around here.”

Thinking about being that far away from the house sounded nice. Something more than chores and my sweet little trips to paradise in the grocery store. My only reprieve from these walls.

“We could go at night to see all the lights.” I mused.

They nodded their head, starting to squirm a little.

“You ok Blinky?”

“Mhhhm, just getting wrinkly. I hate the finger wrinkles.”

“Hold your hands out of the water, when I put in the conditioner we can drain the tub and just rinse you’re hair after.”

“Ok.”

I swore we’d been in that bathroom for nearly 40 mins, and they’d done much better than I expected them to. Once I got the conditioner saturated I handed them a towel and they wrapped it around themselves. Their legs were still a tad shaky so they sat back down on the toilet seat. I pulled the plug on the bathtub and quickly went to the sink to scrub my hands. I’d have to clean the tub later.

“Feeling any better?”

“A little, thank you.”

“It was no problem.”

“You should stop saying that when people are trying to appreciate you Manon. You work hard, you deserve recognition.”

Sure, they were sweet on me all the time, but these words somehow sounded wise beyond their years. Very different from the lazy way they usually stuttered and slurred their way through sentences too quickly. It was slow and methodical. We sat in a comfortable silence for about fifteen minutes as the conditioner sat. I felt much better now that Blinky was clean,!-!: I’m sure they did too.

It was hard to unsee them covered and blood and heaving like a rabid animal. The imagine stuck in my head and it felt so foreign. Unjust. I beckoned them and they leaned their head over the side of the tub. Allowing me to poor water over their head and rinse their hair. When we were done, I wrapped it up neatly with a black silk is found last time Otis and I went to the store. This should help keep their hair nice and soft.

“Doe Eyes?”

“Yea?” I responded like I’d never known any other name before.

“Thank you”

Blinky’s POV: The Night Before

I ran. I was a coward and I ran away. But it was all too much in the moment. So I went the only place no one would look for me. I made my way down the basement steps and saw Tiny fast asleep. I felt bad for waking him, he worked so hard and he deserved rest. But everyone else felt too much.

Otis seemed happy with me, proud even. How would he react if I told him I was struggling. I don’t think it’s the act of killing that’s making my heart sick. But the reason it happened. It felt like I wasn’t in control of my actions. Something just snapped and I lost it. I don’t want to feel out of control ever again.

I slowly walked over to the bed, shaking him away. I tried gently at first, but he was a deep sleeper. I shook him harder and he woke up, stretching and trying to make himself alert.

“Blink?” He signed.

“There was an intruder, but everyone’s stay. Can I- can I stay down here for a while?”

There was a slight bit of panic in his eyes when he saw the blood. But now he understood it wasn’t mine and he relaxed a little.

“You ok?” Sighed.

“I’ll have to be.” I sighed.

He threw off his covers and slowly walked over to the washing machine. Picking up one of his big sweaters from the dryer. It was tan and soft.

“Hands up!” He signed.

I complied a she easily pulled my shirt up over my head, tossing it to the side. He slipped the sweater on over my arms and it fell slowly. Swallowing most of me. But god was it soft and warm and cozy. It felt nice. I also my forgot I was still covered in sticky, hot blood.

“Come”

He waved me over as he sat on the edge of the bed. With shaky steps I walked over to the bed, sitting next to him. In one motioned he swooped me up, pulling me to his front as he laid down. He put the blanket over us and I moved around a little to get comfy. His arms wrapped tightly around me.

“Sleep.” He signed with his free hand.

“Goodnight Tiny.”

I closed my eyes as I laid on his warm chest. I let sleep envelope me as I felt his chest rise and fall. It was quiet down here, no bad men to disturb the tranquility. Just me and my family, safe and sound.

An: I got it done today!!! A Christmas miracle! Merry Christmas everyone! Happy Yule, and Happy Chanukah and Kwanzaa!

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diary-of-dr-eggman · 11 months

Text

AI Prompt: Write an entry in Dr. Eggman’s diary about his badnik, Crabmeat.

Dear Diary,

I have a bit of a confession to make - I've always had a bit of a soft spot for one of the most basic of all badniks: Crabmeat.

Yes, I know he's not the most fearsome-looking robot out there, but there's just something about those big pincers and those wobbly legs that I ﬁnd endearing. So today, I decided to take old Crabby out for a spin. I dusted him off, gave him a few quick repairs, and sent him off to do battle with Sonic and his pals.

At ﬁrst, it didn't seem like Crabmeat stood much of a chance. Sonic was darting around him with ease, mocking his every move. But then... then something strange happened. I'm not sure how it occurred, but somehow Crabmeat got a little... well, feisty, let's say.

Suddenly those pincers of his were snapping left and right, grabbing at Sonic's quills and trying to drag him down. Sonic looked completely caught off guard, and I swear I could see a hint of fear in his eyes.

It was a glorious sight - Crabmeat, my little underdog of a badnik, actually holding his own against Sonic! I cheered him on, heart swelling with pride, as he continued to snap and claw and snarl.

But then, unfortunately, Sonic got the upper hand. With a swift spin attack, he knocked Crabmeat's legs out from under him, leaving him helpless on the ground. I watched, crestfallen, as Sonic turned away from my fallen crab... and then, as if sensing my sadness, Crabmeat let out a mighty belch of exhaust and blew Sonic clear across the zone.

I couldn't contain my joy - Crabmeat had done it! He'd defeated his arch-nemesis and proved that even the smallest and weirdest of my badniks could win the day.

I don't know what the future holds for Crabmeat, but one thing is for sure - he's got a special place in my heart. Go get 'em, little guy.

Yours truly,

Dr. Eggman

#eggman #robotnik #sonic #crabmeat #badnik

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ollovae3 · 2 years

Note

It’d be fucked up if Boba met and old and dying clone who mistakes him for one of his younger brothers. Good thing Star Wars is a light hearted adventure 🙂

I love that so much because I know Boba would be HEARTBROKEN that he's so easily able to be seen as said vod?? But also I kinda think he might like,,, silently sit there as the trooper rambles in his last moments, maybe, just maybe... The trooper says "I'm tired, but.. I don't wanna leave you alone.."

And Boba tries not to cry, (he hasn't cried in years, why is he crying now?) as he speaks to his buir, past the face of the vod. "I'll be okay. Sleep."

I don't know if he'd leave the burial to whatever friends and family the trooper had, or if he'd build a pyre himself, but I think he'd make sure his vod is sent off, free.

#star wars #clone trooper #jango fett #boba fett #tw death mention #boy oh boy am i sobbing now #being tired as fuck doesnt help #but yeah i know boba is emotionally constipated and i joke about it a lot #but i like to think that despite the resentment towards the troopers #hes got just the smallest soft spot for em #especially as they age #they were his brothers for the shortest time #friends #and now they give him a selfish glimpse of his buir #how can he not pay them back for those brief moments of dreaming?

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letarasstuff · 3 years

Text

A Genius’ Baby

(A/N): This is based on this post and requested by an anon. It is also leaned on the episode, where JJ brings Henry in for the first time. I got the general idea from an episode of Bones (hmu if you know which one)

Summary: How will Spencer’s daughter’s first meeting with the team exactly go down?

Wordcount: 1.3k

✨Masterlist✨ _________________________________

Spencer never dreamed of taking time off of work voluntarily. He loves doing what he does for a living. It’s not only something he is good at, it’s also something that makes him proud, knowing how many lives the team safed together.

But one thing led to another and now he is a single father of a newborn baby girl. His first week with his little (Y/N) was, to put it mildly, chaotic. Her mother decided early on in the pregnancy that she doesn’t want to be a part of her child’s life. Spencer is fine with it, as long as he is able to be there for her.

“What do you think, Sweetie, is a visit at Daddy’s work going to kill the whole office, because you are way too adorable?” He asks her as he pushes her in her stroller through the streets. A cute gurgle comes from inside the stroller as an answer. “Yes, I think so, too.”

It’s their first time to visit the BAU, since the little one’s birth. (Y/N) is a month old now and the little family slowly finds a schedule to live by. They hadn’t had the time to take the metro and the following walk to Quantico, but Morgan took the liberty to come to Spencer’s apartment and help the freshly baked father a few times.

Father. It still has a weird ring to him, but it also makes Spencer swell with pride being able to call himself a word like that. He promised to (Y/N) that he will live up to it. That he never leaves her, unlike his own father did. It doesn’t matter how difficult things may get, Spencer is going to be there for his daughter.

But enough love smack for now. It’s time for Reid to show off his newborn cutiepie.

They get through security check rather easily, except for the guards, who swoon over small (Y/N). Spencer has to slap away several hands and he doesn’t want to imagine how many germs are all over them.

“Aaaaand here we are. This is where Daddy will go in a few months. I’ll make sure you’ll visit me as often as possible.” Then Spencer looks around only to see a vacant bullpen. “This is an example for your father not being as smart as everybody thinks. I forgot to ask if the team is on a case.” He facepalms himself, but continues to push the stroller.

A few minutes of walking later he knocks on Penelope’s door. “Wait a sec, the tech goddess is on her way, mysterious stranger.” As she opens the door, the blonde lets out a loud gasp.

“Is this- Oh my god- Is this- Are you.” Yes, Penelope Garcia is broken even before she gets to see the newest addition to the BAU kids. Spencer smiles while taking his girl out of the basket and holds her in his arms.

“Child, meet Penelope Garcia, one of your many Aunties.” The techie can’t hold in another gasp. “Oh my god, pretty boy. She is an overload of cuteness. I- I can’t! I think I got diabetes just by looking at her.”

Some time later the doors to the elevator open, allowing the team to step out. They all look exhausted. That case didn’t go as planned, having lost more lives than necessary. As they make their way over to the bullpen a happy Technical Analyst approaches them with a pep in her step.

“There is a surprise for you in the conference room that definitely will cheer you all up. Pinky promise.” She doesn’t need to say more, because a pinky promise from Garcia is a safe ride.

And a surprise it is as they spot their fellow genius rocking a bundle of white blankets.

Hotch is the first one to speak. “I thought I told you to not come to the office. I said-” “That I have a family to think of now. I know Hotch, but I wanted to show my child where she will spend a great amount of time of her childhood and I wanted you to meet her.”

“Come on Spence, tell us her name”, JJ complains. Since he announced that he is going to be a father, he made a game out of them guessing her name.

“(Y/N), meet my team, also known as our family. Team, meet (Y/N) Diana Reid. Not only is she named after her Grandma, but also after her butts and doors kicking godfather, since it’s also the feminine form of Derek, who is going to be the best godfather in history on a side note.”

In this moment everyone has to push back tears, also Morgan, even though he knows the revelation already. Emily softly pushes her way to the front.

“Now, am I allowed to hold my goddaughter? I know as soon as Morgan gets his cool together he isn’t going to let me get my own time with her”, the back haired pouts. Spencer looks at her a little unsure.

“Uhm, can you uh sanitize your hands please?” He nods his head towards the diaper back on the round table. A little tube filled with hand sanitizer dangles from it. Without any complaints she compiles to the request, ready to do anything his teammate wants from her only to be able to touch the newborn.

“You do know that exposing your child to as many germs as possible in her early childhood makes her resistant to any allergies against them in her following development, right?” Rossi asks, an amused smile gracing his face.

Spencer blushes a bit while handing his daughter over to Prentiss, saying “be aware of her head, the neck is not strong enough to keep it up on its own yet” to her as if she never held a baby before. “Hey, Little One. I’m your Auntie Em”, she whispers.

“Uh, I know that, but I kind of decided that I don’t care about this statistic. Whoever wants to touch (Y/N) has to wash their hands and sanitize them. I can sleep better knowing that I even protect her against the smallest of things”, he sheepishly scratches his neck, seemingly not knowing what to do with them now.

“Well”, Derek says, “This is a first. Spencer Reid, the man of numbers, giving not a shi-” He cuts himself off seeing the warning glares from his team mates. “A shoot? Not giving a shoot about numbers?” Morgan tries to correct his statement.

“If you want to keep that mouth around my child, I have to rethink my decisions”, Spencer murmurs, watching Emily stroking (Y/N)’s soft check endearingly. Suddenly she begins to whine. The older woman looks up at the father, who glances at his watch.

“It’s time for her bottle. Let me go heat it u-” “I’ll do it”, Hotch offers. His face is less stern than usual, which is noticed by everyone. “Uhm, thank you. You hav-” “I don’t want to be rude, but I know how to heat up a bottle, Reid. I got a child on my own.” The Unit Chief says this with a smile and takes the little plastic bottle out of the genius’ hand to go to the little kitchen the office offers.

After this little visit many follow in the next few months Spencer is off duty and they still remain in some frequency as he comes back. Because nobody can survive long without as much as a glance of their favorite little genius.

Taglist:

All works:

@agentshortstacc

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl

Spencer Reid:

@calm-and-doctor

x child!reader:

@ilovetaquitosmmmm

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x child!reader #spencer reid x daughter!reader #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfiction #x reader #x daughter!reader #x child!reader #reader insert #spencer reid

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dreamties · 3 years

Text

Billy & Stu's Adventures in Puppy Care

18+ / NSFW Accounts Do Not Interact

A/n- I wrote this a few months ago...thought i'd finally share. sorta nervous about this :O

Word Count: 1858

description: Y/n spends the day as a sleepy, affection starved puppy with their favorite people.

ship: billy loomis / stu macher / reader

this is about SFW pet regression so don't be weird !! for the love of slasher movies, DONT. BE. WEIRD !!

Y/n comes home from work in the very early hours of the morning, exhausted to the bone and just wanting to curl up and sleep. They still had to shower off the day's grease and sweat, and start breakfast for everyone. Sleep would come...but not soon enough. They try to wipe the sleep out of their eyes as they head to the bathroom, they take a quick glance at their boys in the other room. Smiling at the sight of Billy and Stu cuddling into each other, Stu with his long arms wrapped around the smaller boy. They’re quick to scamper off to the bathroom, no matter how much they wanted to stay there and take in the gorgeous view of their beloveds so at peace. No matter how much they wanted to nestle their way in between them. Bask in their warmth.

Their shower is long, spending time stretching their limbs and properly grooming themselves. Lathering a sweet and calming lavender scented shampoo along their body. Taking too long under the shower head, making sure all the suds are washed off themself and none of it clings to the tub.

Next, is breakfast. They put up the hot water for coffee and tea. Put the bread in the toaster, sort through various items in the fridge, trying to find jam. Finally acquiring strawberry jam, and taking the butter out as well. They scramble eggs, and plate the food on three plastic dishes. They place everything at the table, finally heading off to their bedroom again to retrieve their boyfriends. They place gentle kisses to each of their foreheads, then shake them awake. Billy’s the first one up, pushing himself out of Stu’s grip- much to his begrudgement.

“Aww, c’mon! Just a little longer,” he whines.

They let out a tired chuckle, “You can cuddle more later, breakfasts ready.”

The three of them sit down, and begin to dig into the meal. Y/n gets up when they finally hear the kettle whistling, making everyone's morning beverage of choice. They sit back down, a hot mug of tea in their hands. They take a sip, slipping their tongue out as they accidentally burn it.

They shake it off, and give an apologetic look to Stu, “We’re out of your favorite, we’ll have to stop at the store tomorrow. You two don’t have work, right?”

Stu pouts and Billy answers, “Not today.”

They give a pleased smile, “Good. I’m off the rest of the weekend.”

Both of their eyes glimmer at the news- “What did you have in mind?”

“Really? I just wanna...destress for a bit. Work was awful last night.”

They both frown. “Is it your boss again?” Billy asks.

They nod.

“Y’know, we could always-” Stu begins.

They narrowed their eyes at him, “If you suggest to kill my boss again- I swear to god, Stu!”

He raises his hands up in defense, giggling and smiling. “I surrender, I surrender.”

Billy and Y/n can’t help but smile at his antics. The three of you finally finish up, dishes in the sink, coffee filters and old tea bags in the trash.

“The two of you mind cleaning the dishes?” They yawn out, rubbing at their eyes.

Billy leans against the edge of the sink, giving them a soft look, “No problem.”

“Thank you,” they sigh, slumping into Billy. Nuzzling their head against him, aching for attention.

He smiles down at them, curious- as realization slowly dawns his face. “What do you want, pup?”

They brighten at the name, continuing to nuzzle him. He brings his hands up, one to pet through their hair, the other tracing across their neck. “You want your collar?”

A few quick nods later, and moving the three of you to the bedroom- Y/n finds themselves kneeling on the ground awaiting the collar. Stu’s rummaging through piles, trying to remember where they stored the thing- it wasn’t often that their beloved found themselves in this regressed state, so they often misplaced the gear needed to keep things exciting and safe for Y/n.

Stu finally finds it, Y/n curiously sniffs at his hands, the item looking suspiciously different than usual. He pets their hair, guiding them to kneel back on the ground. He then leans down to put it around their neck- stepping back to admire their look. They turn their head to peer at Billy, showing off the pretty, red collar in the process. In big, curly letters the top of the pendant reads Y/n . Their shared apartment address is written at the bottom along with their wonderful owners' names.

“Does our little pup like their new collar?” Billy grins down at them, scratching the bottom of their chin. “Good, good baby.”

Y/n spent most of the day following their partners around as they did chores. From napping on the kitchen floor as they did the dishes to hiding in the laundry as they attempted to clean and fold it. Once or twice they go off to do their own thing- possibly planning other murders- where they leave them alone. It’s not all bad when that occurs, they find their doggy bed- a perfect fit for their size- in the living room. They rest in it’s comforting hold till their loved ones make their way back to them. They find themselves fluctuating between their regressed state of mind and not throughout the day, it finally settles to a consistent regressed state as the day comes to a close.

Billy grabs a red ceramic dog bowl from one of the bottom cupboards- it’s tucked away neatly, covered in a worn towel to prevent it’s breakage and protect it from dust. He hands the bowl to Stu, who pours a considerable amount of dry cereal into it. He moves to set it down, and Billy lets out a not entirely gentle, “Be careful.”

Stu rolls his eyes, “I’ve got it,” and places it on the ground, next to the edge of the counter. While he does that, Billy gets out bowls for them and milk from the fridge, placing two full bowls of milk and cereal on the table.

They sit down and begin to eat, idly chatting with each other. Billy tries not to laugh too hard from something moronic his boyfriend says. Sparing odd glances at their other partner, who's got their face right up against their bowl, while they happily munch up their kibble . Billy snickers, looking away from them. They were too cute and silly for their own good.

Y/n’s the first to finish up. Instead of waiting patiently for their owners, they crawl underneath the table, finding themselves next to Billy’s chair. Unbeknownst to him.

They nudge their head against his leg, achieving nothing but a small jolt of surprise.They let out a sharp whine when he doesn’t react immediately.

Billy looks underneath the table for a brief moment, “What’re you doing down there, Y/n?”

They keep rubbing at his leg. Stu, who has just finished, looks down to see what the commotion is. “Aww, they just want some love,” he grins. “C’mere.” He pats his lap, inviting them to him.

It was awkward trying to situate themself on Stu in a way that felt comfortable and puppy-like, but had little to no feelings of how non-regressed, human them would sit. They end up lying their head on his thigh, letting out a pleased noise as he pets their head.

“What kinda manners you teaching our little pup over there?” Billy teasingly remarks. He sighs, taking in the blissed out state of his partners, and how happy Stu seemed to be as he fulfilled their smallest desires. He quickly finds his way standing next to Stu’s spot.

“Let's take this to the bedroom,” he gestures away from the table. “You’ll be more comfortable, Y/n- and you.” He points a finger at Stu.

Stu chuckles, face falling slightly, and smiling nervously at Billy. “What? What’d I do?”

He smirks at him, having fun playing around with Stu, “You gonna be a good boy, too?”

“I’m not usually?”

Billy barks out a laugh, “You’re a fucking nuiscance.” It’s not said with malice, but an odd sense of affection. He glances down at Stu’s lap, noticing Y/n’s eyes drooping shut. “Looks like our baby’s getting tired.”

They perk up at the name, wide eyes staring up at Billy. The two boys chuckle. “Gonna carry em, okay?” Stu mentions, petting down their hair once more. They nuzzle against him at the idea. “You like that, huh?”

Eventually, Stu picks Y/n up, cradling them in his arms. He places them safely on the bed- though it takes as a second as they struggle with him, trying to stay wrapped in his nice, warm embrace. They whine as they’re finally left on the bed by themselves- Billy and Stu changing into proper bedroom attire. Billy’s in boxers and a white tee- while Stu has chosen quite a minimalistic approach. Boxers only. They try not to pay mind to Y/n’s whining too much, as they finally stop- dejectedly curling up on the mattress.

Stu’s quick to join them, as Billy lets out a sigh- “C’mere, baby.” They hurriedly uncurl themselves and kneel on the edge of the bed- looking up expectantly.

He places a small kiss on the top of their head, moving his hands slowly across their body- stopping at the edge of their top. He peels their clothes off, with ease and if practiced, till it’s nothing but bare skin. They press into him, thankful for his help. He kisses them again, and holds his hand against their head in a gentle manner. Hugging them close to himself. “It’s okay, love.”

Stu comes from behind pulling the two of you down with him. Y/n lets out a surprised squeak along with a series of giggles. They find themselves laying against his chest, while Billy’s over both of them, trying not to accidentally hurt Y/n. It’s warm in the middle of it, and they feel protected. Stu’s got an arm lazily playing with Billy’s hair, and the other hung around Y/n’s shoulders.

The three of them don’t stay in the position long. Comfortable? Yes. But no one, even their little pup, would want to stay the whole night like this. They needed- and deserved- a proper night of sleep. Especially after their long and tiring day of work, and having to deal with their hardass of a boss. (If he ended up missing or found dead within the following days...well, he had it coming.)

Y/n’s practically asleep when they try moving themselves around. They tuck their little puppy in first, peppering them with kisses and little reassurances. Then Stu climbs under, after sharing a quiet kiss with his boyfriend. Billy’s the last to get in- both boys curling their bodies in a way that allowed their pup to safely cocoon themselves in the middle. Their small bundle of love secured in their grasp. Billy whispers small “I love you”s, as sleep finally takes them in.

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babymilkawa · 3 years

Note

I JUST READ YOUR RANDOM BOYFRIEND HCS FOR BAKUGOU AND I HAVE TO BEG U TO DO ONE FOR TODOROKI NCJNAVK🥺💓 I just about died I love the Bakugou one smmmm~~

I’m so glad you liked the bakugou one!!

random bf headcanons with:

todoroki shoto

gn!reader :)

whenever he sees that you’ve been staring at a screen all day, body molded into a certain posture, he’ll softly place your favorite hot drink on the desk and gently squeeze your shoulder

you’d look up at him and he’d smile, leaning down to kiss your nose

“when was the last time you took a break?”

he’d have something planned for when ur done with work

whether it’s something small like buying your favorite snack, or a bathtub, or even setting up the living room for a movie night

shoto actually pays attention to the movies y'all watch

of course, if you don't, his attention is on you and he’ll respond to any of your pleas for cuddles or general affection

when his head is resting on your stomach, you have to pet his hair

like that’s a must

it comes in the how to love todoroki shoto: the handbook

I have a copy of it

but if you pull away your hand for even a second, like to better text on your phone cuz I literally can't type with one hand, then he will reach behind and put your hand back on his hair

that’s just how it works I don't make the rules

he looooves anything you do with his hair

if you brush his bangs out of his eyes? 50 pts

if you ruffle it and give his scalp little scratchy scratches? 100 pts

if you put his bangs up to kiss his forehead? 200 pts

he also loves when you kiss his scar, just below his eye or his temple

he claims that he can feel it sometimes and that it stings a little but rly it’s just so you can kiss it again

omigod if you’re sitting on the counter or you’re chest is at his face level for whatever reason

he will bury his face in there and exhale

literally goes limp against your body, loosely wrapping his arms around your thighs

if he sees that you're going to lay down or going to take a nap, he’ll drop everything and just spoon you <3

you can be lying down and going through your phone and his arms would be around your center, head on your shoulder and eyes closed

sometimes he’s the one taking a nap

it’s like you laying down for whatever reason is an open invitation for him to lay down too and get some shut eye

pretty boi has a strict nighttime routine

he takes care of his face but he doesn’t overdo it with the products

more like cuz he doesn’t need to

but anyways he’d much rather have you apply the skincare on him rather than he do it himself and you just watch him

like you got hands put em to good use ��

and he will most definitely do it for you too if you let him

your face just feels so soft underneath his hands that he just-

misses a spot like every time

and you tell him like, “sho don’t forget my nose.”

“oh, sorry I got distracted.” he’ll say calmly.

then you smirk like “by me?”

“yes,” he’ll admit, trying to clear the ball in his throat and keeping his hands from sweating

if you guys pass by each other in the hallways and you haven’t seen each other all day, he’ll put his hands on your shoulders and give u a forehead kiss

“how has your day been, beautiful? any plans later?”

being with him, you’ll see sides that he doesn’t really show people

and I'm not talking about lovey dovey and soft

I'm saying like childish

I really think that he’ll mess around with you a little and have the smallest smile on his face, looking away and trying to cover it up

but it’s the smallest things

like you’ll be moving around the kitchen making a drink and when you’re not looking, he’ll move it to a different counter

and then peeks through his bangs to see your reaction

if you catch on that he did it, you have to do something back

if you don't, it’s like leaving someone hanging on a high five

so todoroki’s not the best at cooking I mean he can cook a simple meal but he doesn’t do it too often so u guys have takeout a lot unless you can cook

he’ll eat anything you make though, picky ain’t in his vocab

if he’s home before you are and there are leftovers, he’ll always reheat the food for you

and he always gets the timing right

like he’s never too late or too early

you never have to sit down to steaming hot food that burns your tongue nor do you have to try to chew your way through ice blocks

like how does he do it

I've said this before in one of my hcs but being with you for so long has made his body accustomed to your temperature

like it’s steaming hot right and he’s able to emanate just enough cold that you’re able to cool down

he was super determined for the summer especially cuz no one will want to cuddle in the heat

and he kinda lives off of your cuddles

it’s like his life support sooo

take em away from him and he’ll do anything to get em back

y’all rarely get into an argument but when you do, he’ll give you silent apologies and just

hugs you from behind with his arms around your shoulders until you give in

take care of this man fellas 😩🤚🏻

note that this article was not sponsored by how to love todoroki shoto: the handbook

a/n: requests are closed atm but if you’ve already sent one, I'll try to get to them asap!

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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.”

#harry styles #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry styles writing #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine

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fific7 · 3 years

Text

Dangerous and Divine - Part 12

Billy Russo x Reader

Summary: Billy Russo is an itch you don’t want to scratch. But he’s all over you like a rash.

A/N: This does not follow canon, it’s mainly fluff & lemon zest 🍋 The GIF is from Exposed, unreleased pilot show in case you’re wondering 😌... Billy vibes.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW - None really, just Billy getting a bit handsy and some drinking & swearing.

(My GIF)

“Oh, Billy,” you said, worried, dragging him into the room and slamming the door closed.

You got him to sit on the bed, and rushed into the bathroom to dampen a towel. Billy was trying to shrug out of his unzipped tactical top, wincing as he did so. Helping him out of it, you placed it on the floor and then gently washed the deep gash at his hairline, before getting another towel to work on his arm wound.

You rang the front desk and asked if they had a medic on call, hearing a lot of background noise as the stressed-out receptionist told you he’d get one called out for you.

Billy was waving his hand at you and shaking his head, but you ignored him. “Thank you, that’s great,” you finished the call. Replacing the receiver, you looked over at him sitting there in his white tank T, and tried not to think about how sexy he looked right now - that would have to go on a back burner!

“Don’t need a doc,” grumbled Billy, peering at his arm wound, “coulda fixed this myself.” You stood in front of him and tipped up his chin with your finger, “Will you just let me look after you, Russo?” You could see him kind of melt, and he gave you a small shy smile, “Ha... yeah, okay... I guess m’not used to someone takin’ care of me.” Your heart broke for him, and you leaned down and gave him a soft kiss, “Well, get used to it.”

His hands ran up the sides of your body. “I know what’d make me feel better...” the smirk was back, but he was still looking pale. You disentangled yourself from his big hands and headed for the mini-bar. Thankfully you hadn’t made your way through all of it, and whipped the miniature of brandy out of it. Unscrewing it, you handed it to Billy who grinned and grabbed it, knocking it back in one. “Ahhhh... thanks angel.”

His hand found yours, “I’m liking this takin’ care of me thing,” he grinned, “but there’s something else that needs your attention apart from my head and arm.” You smirked at him, “Your ears?” He looked puzzled, “Cos you obviously didn’t hear me saying there’s a doc on the way over,” you continued. He laughed, “Okay, okay, I’ll shelve it till the quack’s patched me up. But after that....” a devilish glint in his eye, “....you can properly take care of me.”

“We’ll see how the patient is after the doc’s checked him over,” you said mock-primly, “...you never know, he might be incapacitated.” “Me?! Incapacitated! No way, sweetheart,” he laughed, “in fact, if anything it’s just fired me up!” You felt one of Billy’s long fingers making its way under your sleep shorts and begin stroking your pussy. Then he slid it inside you, grinning evilly as you gasped in surprise at the speed with which he did it. A second joined it, his thumb found your clit, he began working you rhythmically and soon had you gripping his shoulders and sighing like the wind.

There was a sudden rap at the door and you both guiltily leapt apart, as if your parents had caught you getting handsy with your high school boyfriend. You both started laughing, and you walked over to the door and opened it to a nervous-looking young doctor. You pointed over to Billy, “Hi doctor... it’s my boyfriend, he’s got a couple of deep grazes from gunshots.” Firstly you spotted a sunshine-bright smile appearing on Billy’s face, then you saw the doctor’s eyebrows travelling rapidly up to his hairline.

“He was in a joint operation with Homeland,” you hastily said, “..let me get his ID for you.” The doc edged into the room as you went over to Billy, who was still grinning at you like a fool. He handed you his ID card and you passed it to the doc. “Feel free to check if you like, honestly - I understand you need to be careful.” “Okay, one second,” he said to you, walking over to the windows and taking his phone out. After speaking to a couple of people, he handed the card back to you, nodding, “Yes, it’s fine. Sorry but with everything that’s been going on here tonight....”

You nodded back, walking over to one of the fancy armchairs and sitting down, rather than hover as the doctor checked Billy over, so you just watched from a distance as he fussed round him. Dark eyes were on you, and you smiled over at him but noticed a somewhat sulky look on his face. Maybe he was pissed off with the doctor messing about with him, you mentally shrugged to yourself.

Eventually the doctor finished swabbing with antiseptic and placing gauze bandages over the wounds, and took himself off amidst your thanks.

Billy was lounging back on the bed, taking off his boots as you walked back to him, not meeting your eyes and you could see his petted lip from where you stood. He stripped off his socks and threw them to the side of the room. You put your hands on your hips, “Billy....! What’s up with you?” He huffed out a breath, “Like the look of that doc, did ya?” You burst out laughing, “What?!” “Your eyes were glued to him,” he scoffed. You sat diagonally opposite him on the edge of the bed, “You silly big jealous idiot! I was just watching him treat you!”

He looked over at you, “Really?” You stroked his arm, avoiding the bandage, “Yes! Really!” He leant into you, hands going to yours, “I can’t help it,” he muttered, now looking embarrassed, “I couldn’t stand it if you liked another guy.” “That’s crazy, Billy. You know I like you.” He brightened up, “Yeah, you did call me ‘my boyfriend’ when he arrived.” Oh, so that’s what that huge smile was about, you thought! “C’mon you, let’s get you into a nice warm bath,” you shook his shoulder, “...now get off your lazy ass and get into that bathroom.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

After helping Billy get the rest of his clothes off, you’d insisted he have a soak instead of the shower he said he’d have as it was quicker. And once he was relaxing in the big spa bath, he was thoroughly enjoying it. Even though you said you wouldn’t join him on this occasion, and even the biggest of big puppydog eyes weren’t working this time.

You left him to it and wandered back to sprawl on the bed, switching the TV back on to see if there was anything on the news about it yet. Well, there was but it was the smallest of small snippets, just about an ‘incident’ at the hotel and that no-one had any further details at present. You’d get more details from Billy in a moment or two anyway, you thought.

And here was that man, in all his glory, strolling over to the bed with a towel wrapped round his middle, yawning. “Mmm.... have to say, that was wonderful.” “Better than a shower?” you teased, rubbing it in. He lay down next to you, head going into your lap. “Oh yeah. Yeah, okay - you were right!” he laughed up at you. “Is it on the news?” he asked, and you told him the tiny bit of info they’d given out. He nodded, another yawn sneaking up on him, “Yeah, Homeland will have that locked down tighter’n a drum. They’ll give a statement eventually with some bullshit explanation or other.”

His eyes slowly shut, and you nudged his head with your hip, “Hey! Marine - details, now!” His lips curled up into a lazy grin, eyes remaining closed, “Well, what I can tell you is that the shitshow is finally over!” The dark eyes opened and twinkled at you, “Didn’t quite go accordin’ to plan, but one of ‘em’s dead and the other’s in custody. So me an’ Frankie’re off the hook - at last!”

You leant in and kissed him, slowly. One big hand went to the back of your neck and pulled you fully down onto him, before he flipped you over and was on top of you, kissing you all the while. You’d just started tugging at his towel when there was another rap at the door. Again, the two of you sprang apart, looking at each other and silently asking who that could be.

Getting up and rearranging your PJ top and smoothing your sleep shorts down a bit, you got up and cautiously looked through the peephole. A big sigh escaped you, and you turned your head to Billy, whispering, “It’s Madani!”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy was beginning to feel like he was being stalked. Sitting up in the bed, he made an annoyed face at his girl and lifted both hands up in a “What now?” gesture. He watched as she reluctantly opened the door, thinking to himself that at least Madani had knocked this time.

He saw Dinah’s face tighten with annoyance as she saw who had answered the door, and then she peered past her towards him, eyes widening as she took in his state of undress with just the towel round him. He sighed, she really was quite blatant. How the hell she managed to keep a poker face in interrogations he didn’t know.

His girl’s voice had a real edge of irritation in it as he heard her ask what Madani wanted, who merely said she needed to speak to him. She stood back from the door, Dinah came into the room and headed straight over to him. He had an uncomfortable flashback to that visit to Anvil, and abruptly stood up next to the bed. “What d’you need to speak to me ‘bout, Madani?” he asked, also irritated. He was sure that whatever it was, it could’ve waited till morning. Maybe she thought he’d be alone in the room this time or something.

“You and Castle are officially cleared of all pending charges, Russo.” He nodded, “Yeah... I know, Dinah.” He saw his girl’s face screw up a bit at the first name, ‘Oops’ he thought, I better knock that on the head. “You didn’t need to come all the way up here to tell me that.”

“Maybe she was hoping you’d be by yourself, Billy,” his angel said, although she sounded slightly demonic at that moment. He shot her a warning glance, and turned back to Madani, “So....?” he questioned her. Dinah was openly staring at his body he noticed, and he felt that this was getting more awkward by the second.

She shrugged, “I just wanted to confirm that officially to you, as it’ll take time to get the paperwork done and processed. You’ll need to come back to Homeland to get that all set in motion.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Dinah had shot a hate-filled glare at his girlfriend when she called her out on visiting Billy.

She had thought he’d be by himself, had never even considered that he would’ve kept the stupid bitch here at the hotel all day.

She let her eyes run from his dark eyes down over that deliciously muscled torso, the trail of dark hair running down his lower abdomen, and then she took a good long look at the interesting bulge visibly pushing against the fabric of the towel. She was annoyed when his hands crossed over in front of it, blocking it from view.

She licked her lips as she met his eyes again, “So when can you come in?”

“Well, not right now,” he scoffed, “me an’ Frankie were plannin’ on heading to your office sometime tomorrow.” She nodded, “Okay, but not before noon.” “Don’t worry,” she saw his eyes go to his girlfriend, “...wasn’t plannin’ to.”

Madani spotted the two bandages, and her gaze softened a bit, “How’s your head and arm?”

“His wounds are fine, thank you!” snapped the girlfriend, and she and Madani shared another venomous look between them.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy thought he’d better get Dinah to leave before someone else got killed, so quickly said, “OK, see you tomorrow afternoon, Madani.”

She nodded to him and headed for the door, past his girl who had her arms crossed in front of her and was looking murderous.

Oh lordy, thought Billy, I’d better order up something really special from room service. She looks mad as all hell.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You were seething. That bloody woman! She just wouldn’t stop pursuing Billy.

You’d noticed him looking warily at you as the door closed behind Madani. Letting out a big breath, you headed for the bed and lay down, turning up the TV volume again.

Billy picked up the room service menu, and ordered up two steak dinners and a bottle of pink Prosecco, before approaching you as if you were a rattlesnake about to strike.

“I’m not mad at you, Russo,” you said, halting him in his tracks, “It’s her! She’s constantly chasing after you, and I. Don’t. Like. It!”

He perched next to you on the bed, running a hand through your hair, “I know, sweetheart. And I swear I’m not encouraging her.” You huffed, “Now! Now you’re not, but you were flirting up a storm with her at one point, weren’t you! And this is the result!”

Billy wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling you close to his chest, “Angel, you know I love you, and only you. And I know I created this situation, but I’m tryin’ my best to make her see there’s nothin’ there. C’mon, let’s not talk or think about her and just enjoy this big dinner I ordered us. And drink some Prosecco!” You hugged him back, rubbing your cheek on his chest hair, “Okay, Russo.”

One huge steak dinner later, the two of you lounged on the bed, glasses of wine in hand and watching a cop show on the TV. Billy sighed, running a finger along your cheek bone, “You know... after tomorrow, I won’t have to see Madani again. So that’ll make things a whole hell of a lot easier.” You couldn’t deny this was music to your ears, “Are you sure? No more statements to give, or court appearances or whatever?”

“Nah,” he leant across to kiss you, “nothing. That’ll be it. Finito.” You mused, “I’m glad, Billy. Really glad. Cos I’m feeling that every time I turn my back, she’s gonna be chasing after you.” Putting your wine glass down on the bedside table, you laid your head back down on the pillows. You heard the clink of his glass going down on the table at his side of the bed.

His dark chocolate eyes appeared above yours, a soft look in them. He kissed you long and slow, and then you heard him whisper, “But she’ll never catch me, sweetheart. You already got me.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

@blackbirddaredevil23 @galaxyjane @omgrachwrites @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead

#ben barnes #billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo imagine #billy russo fanfiction

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aktosage · 2 years

Note

Wait wait wait I just had a cool idea

I don't know what you have written down for ideas and stuff, but what if whirl was the one to train arcee? In the comics whirl and arcee got along really well and I feel like they would still tolerate each other in tfp, but if they had prior connections it would be an established connection to build off of. Like if whirl took in a young arcee and taught her how to fight and how to survive (since I headcanon that arcee was pretty young when the war started) and eventually he asked her to join the wreckers, but she declined and went off on her own. And hundreds of years later they meet (during tfp) and they have to work together again and its like a sweet moment of "hey this is the person who taught me everything". And you could say that whirl is really not a good teacher, but he has a soft spot for sparklings (and younglings I'd imagine). I think it would just be really interesting to see them interact with the other wreckers too. Like wheeljack and bulkhead being super surprised that arcee was almost a wrecker. But whirl is like "nah, my girl can wreck with the best of em', I should know since I taught her myself". Is this an excuse to give arcee a strong standing relationship? Or an excuse to give whirl a (adopted) kid? Mayhaps

Sorry this is so long and rambly. I just really like these 2 lone wolves

(๑･̑◡･̑๑) let me surprise you rn

I actually did keep the IDW dynamic for these two!!! Buuuuut👀 Whirl is the younger one! I like the idea that Arcee is actually pretty old in tf standards and I wanted to keep that in TFP (also even funnier that she’s the smallest and has an attitude of a coming of age teenage girl) I’m not a SUUUPER big fan of tfp Cee, she’s cool but agh I much prefer the IDW interpretation (tho she does get better throughout the seasons <3333333)

Anyway Whirl and Arcee dynamic!

Whirl was always problematic, thus his empurata head and claws (which makes me think of shockwave but that’s a thing for a whole different time) SO! He was put in the same squad as Arcee to discipline him at least a bit. (I will cover his backstory and why he got punished another time)

Him and Arcee aren’t that far age wise, but she was under the strict regime fairly quickly and just sticks to the big rules (bc she will disobey, as shown in TFP) She was mostly there to train WITH him, but her agility and use of her arm blades definitely inspired him to put his claws to good use 👀 I reckon that he was quite upset or even insecure after the procedure. They got along well most of the time because both are fairly short tempered and act on impulse, tho Arcee is more reserved. He was sent off to join the wreckers because 1) they needed a flyer (exodus tells us that there’s been a SIGNIFICANT lack of fliers amongst the autobots) 2) his anger could be put into something 3) Kup and Ironhide could control him relatively okay. Arcee declined because, while yes her size would be a plus in the Cybertron resistance she had an established team and partners that boarded the ships that were to leave Cybertron.

Her and Whirl lost contact, no hard feelings just war, death, famine and all that💀 They would reconnect quickly as if nothing happened for the same reason tho :] Will definitely draw them interacting (Little blue and Big blue combo) Also would break Arcee’s “shell” because during the war she got the role of the “reliable or serious” one much to her disliking (which I BET is the reason she’s a helicopter mom sometimes? Like it’s easier to not allow anything than to let things happen pfff) ALSO!!!!! Her “loosing partners” streak could start off with Whirl👀 since she knew him Pre-war and could believe that he’s dead because he joined the wreckers without her and she had no way to contact him (comm liks very restricted because Cybertron was under Shockwave during that time, and he’d take any chance he’d get to locate the resistance)

Arcee definitely learned some things from him as well as he did from her and those things did stuck throughout the war. Whirl would be “That one crazy wrecker that went to prison like 3 times and escaped twice”. There were probably more units of the wreckers (Magnus, Kup and Ironhide maybe? Ironhide left for the guards tho, they needed forces as well) so Magnus just heard stories about Whirl and he was anything but ecstatic when Whirl arrived

Your asks are SOOSOSOS NICE!!! I LOVED the Whirl dad idea, buuuuuut I hope that this is okay as well :( I see them more, in this universe, as a older sister younger brother but both equally chaotic duo

:] asks stay open, especially regarding this bc wowowowo this is nice wowowo I’m comfortably sharing my thoughts mwah ily thank u

#transformers #maccadam #ask #tfp designs #tfp headcanons

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daydreamsofh · 4 years

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Terrible Love- Part One

A/N: Ahhhhh, hi! Hello! Welcome to Terrible Love, part one. I am so excited to share this with you! This one is another friends to lovers, because I literally do not know how to write anything else! Kidding. No, really. :)

And I have to give a very special thank you to my girl @harryinsweatersandbandanas for her constant encouragement and support. Ash, thank you for being such a light in my life and for always reassuring me. And another special thank you to @dallas-suit-harry for beta reading for me, Em, thank you for always being so wonderful and funny and I can’t wait to tackle you with hugs sometime soon <3

Here we go! As always, reblogs and feedback are more than welcome, my ask box is always open :)

Summary: Love, or should I say falling for your best friend has a way of being terrible, and wonderful all at the same time.

Inspired by this song: Terrible Love- Birdy

Word Count: 5k

He’d be gone soon, and there was quite literally nothing that you could do about it. You started to do your normal routine when he was getting ready to leave. Step 1: ( and really it was the only step) avoid him, avoid him, AVOID HIM. It made no sense, and it was incredibly childish on your part but it was a lot easier than having to face him, knowing his familiar and (annoyingly handsome) face would be gone from you far too soon. And for far too long. You started staying later at work to avoid having your weekly dinners with him, and you even went in on the weekends just to have an excuse as to why you couldn’t see him. Your favorite co workers had even caught on at this point, knowing not to even begin to ask why you suddenly looked so sad, and so defeated, literally all the time. It was gross and overly dramatic the lengths you were taking to avoid seeing him, and at the end of the day, it didn’t make you feel any better. At all.

But your poorly thought out plan of avoidance came to an abrupt halt the night before he was leaving. He had called and practically begged you to come over, saying he had a present for you and something about wanting to tell you goodbye. You couldn’t exactly tell what he said because you were too busy racking your brain to think of a way to get out of going. But when he called you by your full name, (which only happens when either of you are angry with each other, and or to get one’s attention right off the bat) you reluctantly decided to go.

You had sullenly agreed to meet him at his place, it was easier to just agree to meet him than to keep trying to avoid him. He was inevitable, just like the waves of emotion you feel when he leaves, heart breaking, and inevitable. When you had finally managed to drag your feet out of your car to his front door, he opened it before you even rang the bell. He swung the door open, and as soon as you saw his face, your stomach fell and you had to swallow the lump in your throat. His eyes lit up and the corners of his mouth followed while his eyes focused on your makeup free, tired face.

“Ah, so you do remember who I am!” he said it with a soft smile, realizing now that he got a chance to look at you that it must have taken a lot for you to come over. Clingy wasn’t the right way to describe you as a friend, let alone a best friend, but he was no stranger to the fact that him leaving for months at a time had an effect on you, as well as on him. He was quite sure you’d never be able to fully understand the effect you had on him, or on his life. How whenever he made a stupid joke, he’d look over to see if you thought it was funny too, or how he would sit in the exact spot as you whenever you left his house for the night, scooting down the seat far enough that your familiar smell surrounded him and he would let out the softest sigh. How sometimes he would even fall asleep in that position, just wanting to be reminded of you for as long as he could, even though you physically weren’t there. How it was a tradition for the two of you to exchange gifts before he left for tour, or more how it was a tradition that he would get you something in exchange for him getting to see you one last time, no matter how weepy and tired you were.

You smiled as best you could for him, trying to hide the fact that you just wanted to cry seeing him standing there. You walked through his door without a word, and walked straight into his chest. He chuckled and wrapped his arms around you and kissed the top of your head several times. When he finally let you go, you turned and climbed on his kitchen counter to take a seat and he moved to stand in front of you. You could feel him staring a whole through you but your gaze was solely focused on the floor beneath you.

He cleared his throat to break the silence before saying, “Thought we said you weren’t going to hide from me anymore for weeks at a time, before I leave for tour, hmm?” It wasn’t an angry question, he was stern but his tone was a gentle coo, and he was doing his slow blinking bit that makes your heart melt and beat faster all at the same time. When you finally looked up from the floor you shrugged your shoulders and started staring at the crown molding on his ceiling before making eye contact with him.

“I’ve been busy with work H, really, really, realllllly busy,” you finished it with an innocent quirk of your eyes and a genuine smile to really try and sell the line.

Harry ran his fingers through the top of his hair and nodded slowly, “Ah yeah right super busy with work, and avoiding your best friend pretending like he isn’t about to be gone for a few months,” his smirked at you when he saw your shoulders deflate and your eyes roll.

You whimpered and dropped your head, “Don’t remind me please,” he caught your legs that were swinging back and forth under his countertop and spread his thumb over the top of your knee to get you to look at him.

When it was clear he wasn’t going to speak first, you huffed before scooting back an inch on the counter.

“I know you like to be gone and I know that you love touring,” you started, looking directly at him despite the tears forming. “I just hate that you have to physically leave to do it,” you squeaked out. A tear rolled down your cheek despite your best efforts and he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. His lips curled up into a small smile and then he was full on grinning at you. When he started chuckling you rolled your eyes and moved to kick him but he caught your calve, rubbing small circles into your skin. You narrowed your eyes at him and you couldn’t help but laugh even though you just wanted to kick him.

“You know what, screw you, I’m glad you think this is so funny,” you huffed while rolling your eyes.

Harry caught his breath and shook his head, “No no no, s’not funny love, I’m sorry. S’just so cute when yeh get like this right before I leave,”

When you thought about it, you were always like this about him, regardless of his traveling schedule. You could always seemingly just cry from watching him from across the room, he had such a way of drawing people in, and you were powerless to that. It pained you to hear him call you cute, what were you his sister? The deepest part of your mind knew exactly how you felt about Harry, but you had yet to admit it to yourself, out loud anyway. Partly because you knew he would never feel the same way, and partly (mostly) because if you were to admit it to yourself how badly you wanted him, the admission would be too heavy to handle. Your chest ached at the thought of him leaving, but your chest ached more at the fact that you seemingly would never have the courage to tell him how you felt. He had had relationships over the years, and you had watched him fall in and out of love over and over again, always there to pick up the pieces. You however, had had few and far boyfriends and relationships in between. It was hard to commit to anything seriously when you were without knowing, (and partly actually knowing) that you were comparing them all to Harry. It wasn’t logical, and was a sort of self sabotage but how can you not compare everyone to him, when he’s just so….. Him?

“How about while I’m gone, you house sit fo’ me? Don’t have to stay the whole time, but maybe just for the first few weeks? Y’know, it might ease the sting of me leaving for a little while?”

When he smiled after his question you rolled your eyes, pushing his shoulders back as he tried to get closer to you.

“You know actually now that I think about it I can’t wait for you to leave, so I can sell all of your stuff on ebay you wanker,”

His mouth dropped and opened very over dramatically, and he snaked his arms around your waist to bring you closer to him. Face pressed against your neck you felt the smallest, shyest bit of pressure from his lips, and before you could process it he said, “Make sure you don’t sell those white loafers of mine love, know they’re your favorite,”

That had you giggling and Harry smiling soft at you. When he lifted his face out of your neck your shared laughter had died down and you sat there just gazing at each other. His gaze flickered over your face and the butterflies you seemingly always felt when you were with him were swooping gently in your stomach and you felt warmer and warmer the longer he looked at you.

When your lip quivered again despite your best efforts you didn’t hesitate when he pulled you into him again. You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders and he started humming softly in your ear. His hands were rubbing soft circles against your lower back and you felt yourself slowly melting into him. The rest of your night consisted of watching a movie on his couch and you sitting in his lap while he cuddled you from behind, your legs getting tangled eventually until you fell asleep halfway on top of him. When you woke up the next morning you watched as he gathered his last things to get ready to leave while you sipped coffee from your designated mug from his collection.

You walked him out of his front door to the car waiting to take him to the airport and once you came to a stop in his driveway he leaned down to peck your cheek, you held his face to your cheek for a moment and you could feel him breathing you in. He moved his forehead to rest against yours and he murmured a soft, “Miss you already. Text you when I land, okay?”

You could only nod your head as he kissed your forehead once more, completely overwhelmed with his face so close to yours. And just like that he was gone, and the air felt cold as soon as he stepped away and you shivered. The breath was knocked out of you as you made your way back into his house and you couldn’t help but drag your feet as you made your way back in.

You had ultimately taken him up on his house sitting question, and even though you knew he was joking it actually did help the sting of him leaving. At least a little bit. It was comforting to be surrounded by his things and to be in his environment, but you still found yourself moping around his ridiculously larger than life house. It was hard for you to stay focused on anything for more than a few minutes before you were pilfering through his closets and drawers, smiling softly to yourself as you remembered items from his wardrobe that you had grown to love over the years. Running your hands along the stitches and seams of pieces that smelled of his cologne you found yourself getting teary eyed. You had cozied up in one of his shirts every night he had been gone and you were already planning to sneak some new additions home in your bag to add to your collection.

You had tried to sleep on the couch in his living room, the large leather cushions felt like they were swallowing you whole, and you could smell his cologne etched into the fabric from all of his time he spent sitting there. Whether that was when he was scribbling down lyrics, or laughing into your hair as you watched a show together. You found yourself getting frustrated at yourself for crying about his couch? Seriously? Could you be more embarrassing, weepy, and grossly emotional? Pushing yourself up off of his couch you made your way down the hall to his bedroom. The entirety of your stay you had avoided going into his bedroom, it was ridiculous and made little sense even to you, but you had known that if you were in the space he spent the majority of his time in, you would never want to leave. You rested against the door frame and took a deep breath and crossing the threshold. Flicking on the lamp on his bedside table you smiled at the instant warmth you felt by just being in his room, in the space that he felt the most at home, it almost felt like he was right there with you. You pulled back the duvet and crawled into bed, his familiar scent overtaking your lungs all over again. You clutched the blankets in your hands for dear life, almost convinced that if you held onto them for long enough he would magically appear and be here with you.

As much as you loved Harry, and you did, you truly did, you couldn’t help but think that it was a terrible sort of love. Thinking back to the song you and him would dramatically sing to one another to make each other laugh you realized how true the lyrics were for you, and how they had always perfectly described your relationship with him.

It’s a terrible love and I’m walking with spiders, it’s a terrible love and I’m walking in…

It’s quiet company, It’s quiet company, It’s quiet company…..

From how badly you seemingly always wanted him, to how you couldn’t sleep without listening to a voice note he had sent you when he finally landed, or how you had to read one of the books on his bedside table to tire yourself out. The knowledge that his eyes had raked over the same lines of words and held the same spine of the book was enough to make your fingertips tingle and your chest ache.

And I, can’t fall asleep, without a little help

It takes a while to settle down, my shivered bones, wait till the panic’s out…..

At some point though, you must have fallen asleep because the next thing you knew daylight was breaking through his curtains and your eyes were stinging and swollen from the tears you had cried the night before.

You had been checking in with Harry every few days while he had been gone, most of the time it was a simple, “Miss you, thinking of you x” message from him, followed by a “Miss you, love you.” response from you. Your co-workers had noticed a small change in your mood, not exponentially, but a slight difference in your overall state. You weren’t bouncing off the walls excited but you also didn’t look like you were going to break down into tears every five seconds, either. One day your favorite co worker Lucy, who you had initially bonded with over your shared love of trashy bravo reality TV shows, had a “fail proof” way to cheer you up even more.

“Alright, I know you’re too busy missing that bloke to even know what day it is, but I think I have something, or someone that can take your mind off of him, completely?” she all but squeaked out, obviously very excited and very proud of herself for coming up with such a revolutionary idea, if her eyebrows stamped on top of her forehead in question weren’t telling enough.

You had rolled your eyes halfway through her talking and quirked an annoyed eyebrow up at her in question.

“Oh yeah? Tell me Luce, what would this “fail proof” idea of yours be anyway?”

“Well I am so glad you asked! Remember that guy I was telling you about a while back? The friend of a friend who actually seems like a super sweet, sugary stick of a guy! Connor? Ringing any bells?”

You couldn’t help the scowl that settled across your face, the name just sounded so bland, ordinary, and not what you were looking for.... Like, remotely. When you really thought about it, what you were looking for was a loud, sometimes obnoxious knobhead of a man who tripped over his own feet and wears vaguely inappropriate graphic tees and someone who has an absurd love for pea’s and calls him Mum each chance he gets and someone who has kind eyes and who acts like he’s never met a stranger. Oh how nice that would be.

Lucy took your silence and facial expression as not only a no, but a hell no. But when you looked at her crestfallen face, you couldn’t help but feel a little bit bad, you hadn’t meant to hurt her feelings or her attempts at being a matchmaker. Maybe she was right? Maybe this was a good idea? Maybe he was harmless and she genuinely thought the two of you might have something in common..? Plus, what’s one night? You could get someone to buy you dinner and at the end of the night you were still going home to Harry. Crap- Harry’s house- you mean.

“You know what Luce, that would be fine! Sounds fun actually!” you were lying through your teeth but you smiled anyway to try and really sell it.

“Eeeek! Yay! Oh you two are going to have the best time, I just know it! Let me call him for you, babe!” she reached over to give you a squeeze, and you hugged her back all the same despite the uneasiness you were already feeling.

The date had been…. Fine. Nice, even. That’s really all you could say to describe it, to describe him. He was nice and charming, and smiled at you every chance he got, but something just wasn’t right. There was nothing wrong with him necessarily, either, he just wasn’t what you were hoping for. He had paid for your dinner and asked you question after question about yourself trying to get to know you, he had opened the door to the restaurant for you and the car door when he drove you home. To be honest, he was a complete and utter gentleman the whole evening, but something about him just screamed vanilla to you. He had leaned in for a kiss on your cheek when you opened your door to leave, and in response you squeezed his hand and thanked him before muttering a “thank you, see you”.

When you had made your way back inside of the house you pulled your phone from your bag to see a missed facetime call and three texts from Harry. You couldn’t help your squeal when you saw his name and you immediately swiped your thumb over the notification and checked yourself in the reflection of your phone. The longer your phone rang the more nervous you got, you hadn’t seen him despite a few pictures of him on stage and one he sent to you the first night of the leg of the tour.

When his face appeared on the screen you felt your eyelashes hit your eyebrows from smiling so hard and the biggest grin took over your entire face. You clapped your free hand over your forehead and giggled when you saw his tired eyes find yours on the screen.

“There she is! Hi love,”

You let out a small laugh, “Hi H,”

His dimples were showing and you saw his eyes searching the background of his kitchen you were sitting in.

“Ah, so I see you haven’t gone and sold all of my belongings after all, huh love?”

“Yeah yeah well for now anyways,” you rolled your eyes and were giggling softly and he was smiling softly, smittenly at you.

When you got up from your place at the island to take off your coat Harry asked you, “Did you just get in? S’little late isn’t?”

Your eyes flicked back on the screen immediately and you could have sworn you heard the slightest twinge of jealousy, maybe even annoyance in his tone. His brows were furrowed when you made eye contact with him and you raised yours at him in response. You finished taking off your coat and picked your phone up again, bringing it eye level to your face.

“Uh yeah, I actually had a sort-of date tonight. I walked in just a little bit ago actually,” you told him easily.

You saw his jaw clench and you shifted in your seat. Was he mad at you? He sounded pensive when he asked you the question and now his jaw was set in a fixed, hard line. You felt your cheeks fill up with heat and you couldn”t help but feel like you had done something wrong. Obviously you hadn’t, you were free to date and to see or not see whoever you wanted to, and so was Harry. You didn’t like the fact of him going out on dates, but that was besides the point.

You were studying his face and when he turned his head to the side to stretch his neck out and you couldn’t miss the red, splotchy marks on the side of his neck. Your eyes were stinging and you were glad you were sitting down for the duration of this dramatic turn of events phone call. Looks like someone had been having fun on the road with god knows who. Who the hell was he to question about your whereabouts when he was clearly preoccupied with other things? With other people? You suddenly felt sick to your stomach and you could feel your eyes start to brim with tears. You always imagined yourself being the one to press marks and kisses and love bites into the warm skin of his neck. The thought that someone else was doing that in your absence night after night on tour made you want to sink to the floor and sob.

He cleared his throat after the moment of silence and your barely wet eyes met his. He opened his mouth to speak but before he could get it out you cleared your throat and thought quickly of an excuse to get off of the phone before he could see you break down.

“You know H, I should probably go, I have an early meeting in the morning and I should get some sleep,” you sheepishly smiled at him before your gaze fell to the floor.

You could feel his gaze on you, hard even through the screen. He coughed to fill the silence and you could hear him shifting in his seat.

“Erm, yeah love sure. Get some rest. Talk to you soon?” he smiled weakly at you and you could only nod your head.

Your voice wavered and you squeaked out, “Love you,”

He repeated the words back to you and you looked at him one more time before hanging up.

Your head fell and you couldn’t help the tears that were rolling down your cheeks. The notion that you were never going to be with him in that way, came smacking you in the face, once again. This is part of the reason you never wanted to truly deal with your feelings about him, they were too big and too deafening. They made your hands shake and your fingertips itch with the need to touch him. They made your chest heave and your throat burn when you saw him looking at you from across the room. They knocked the wind out of you every time he left and they were stronger every time he came back. They were loud and never ending and warm and made you feel like you were home, they were made out of everything that makes him, him.

Rising up from your perch on his kitchen floor, you dragged yourself to bed. His bed. God, could you be any more pathetic and weepy? It was like you were trying to break a world record of how many tears you could cry over one Harry Styles. Why does even his name have to be so god damn charming? Could he not make it this easy to be so out of your mind, in love with him? It was like the universe was laughing at you and you just prayed that Harry didn’t have cameras hidden in his house somewhere and he was watching you throw yourself a massive, walleyed fit.

Pulling his duvet that smelled so much of him and now of you, you pulled the covers over your eyes and drifted off to sleep.

You had ended up spending the entire leg of the tour staying at his house. It was never your intention to stay the whole time, but the longer you were there the less you wanted to go back to your house. His house was warm and comforting and as sad as you were about his new flame he seemed to have, you couldn’t leave.

The two of you had talked a few times since that fateful facetime call, and he was set to come home the day after tomorrow. You had been dreading seeing him but the feeling in the pit of your stomach and the race of your heart at the mere vision of him walking through the door told you otherwise.

Work had been slow for you the next day, not like you would be able to actually get anything done if you tried, too antsy at the thought of him coming later than evening. When the day was done and over and there were no other possible reasons for you to stay in the office any longer, you started your way back to his house.

When you punched in the code at his front door to find it was already unlocked, your stomach dropped to the sidewalk beneath you and you panicked. The little wanker was home two hours early. Crap crap crap crap CRAP! You took a deep breath before pushing the door open, the warmth from his house meeting your cheeks and coloring them as soon as you walked through the door.

As soon as you shut the door you heard a gasp followed by your name and suddenly a six foot mop of curls were making their way down the stairs. He snuck up behind you and scared the absolute crap out of you and you let out a loud, shrill of a laugh when he spun you around.

When he finally sat you down you got a look at him properly, your heart turned to mush and you felt your knees go weak at being this close in proximity to him again.

“S’bout time you showed up doll, too busy with that new boyfriend of yours, eh?” he winked at you but you could tell there was a sort of twist at his stomach at his question.

You hadn’t mentioned to him that you hadn’t seen Connor since that night, or the fact that you didn’t really want to see him, ever again.

You let out an uncomfortable laugh and shook your head while running your fingers through the hair he messed up in his jostling of a greeting.

“Yeah uh, definitely not, H,” you laughed.

When he leaned his head back to laugh, you saw the marks again. They were bright red this time and it was impossible to miss them. You felt your knees start to go slack and you had the sudden urge to bolt.

“Well,” you started, rubbing your suddenly very clammy hands together. “I guess I’ll go gather my stuff up and get out of your hair, I’m sure you’re exhausted.” you smiled while you passed by him and when he couldn’t see you you closed your eyes at the smell of his cologne washing over you.

He was quick to turn around and follow after you, “Y’don’t have to go, could sit and talk fo’ a bit. Tell you all about the tour an’ all that,” he smiled his softest smile and you just wanted to fall into him.

“Actually uh now that I think about it, I forgot I have plans, so I’ll just see you at the party on Saturday, H.” you nervously huffed out, feeling very hot and nervous under his gaze all of a sudden.

“Oh,” he spoke up, “So you are coming to that?” he asked with the slightest tinge of pink to his cheeks.

“Of course I am, I’ll see you then, H.” you smiled and leaned in to kiss his cheek. But before you could back up Harry gripped your hips softly and held you to him for a moment.

“Really did miss you,” he all but whispered in your ear. His voice had a raspy, honey tone to it, and it made your eyes fall shut again.

You pulled back from your place against his neck and gazed back at him. His eyes were soft and he brushed a piece of hair behind your ear. He started to lean farther towards you and your eyes shot up from his mouth.

“I really missed you too, H.” you softly said to him. “I’ll see you soon.” you rubbed your thumbs in soft circles over his forearms and finally side stepped him to leave.

Bags in hand and your heart in your throat you made your way to your car to leave. When you looked back he was already looking at you. You smiled wordlessly and he winked back at you.

You had managed to keep yourself from crying until you were halfway down the street.

When you got to your familiar street, you put the car in park and pulled your phone out to text a number you hadn’t saved yet. Swallowing harshly you wiped underneath your eyes to get rid of the tears that had started to form, again.

Typing out you wrote, “Hey, had a wonderful time with you the other night, what are you up to Saturday?”

#eeeeeeek i hope you like it!!!!#terrible love #going to hide now hehehe #harry styles imagines #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #harry fluff #oh the yearning #part two should be up sometime this next week!!!!#EEEEEEEK

557 notes · View notes

kanene-yaaay · 3 years

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Tickle me, princey

Kanene’s note: This fic is basically: Virgil is a bratty Lee, Roman is a competitive Ler and none of them are going down without a fight xDD.

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* Lee!Virgil and Ler!Roman (Kind of. Because there is almost no tickles here, just teasing). Human AU.

* Hmmm… This is a Tickle-Fanfic! If you don’t like this kind of stuff, please look for another blog, there are plenty of amazing art in this site!! ‘u’).

* This have about 2.500 words of Roman and Virgil just being teasy beans. ‘w’)b.

* PLEASE CHECK THIS AMAZING ART! IT’S INCREDIBLEE! <33

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! I didn’t proofread that one very well, so I will probably be correcting a few things later. Any advice is always very, very welcome!

* A versão em português brasileiro irá ser escrita, ainda. Eu espero! Thankys for reading, my lollipops! Do something crazy today, take a good rest, be kind (especially with yourself) and drink water! Byeioo!~

[~*~]

Roman cleaned his hands on his jeans before stretching his back and sighing in relief when a small ‘pop’ came from it. The pal from the nearby library was a cool person – not that he would ever allow the other to hear this, because, damn, people who called Roman cocky definitely haven’t met them yet – but equally precise in get on his nerves with as few words as possible, even though the florist didn’t care that much as his dramatics discourses tried to convince everyone he did.

Besides that, they was Patton’s friend and even more important, they made an accord with the Flower Shop’s owner and Roman was the one in charge to deliver their biweekly floral arrangement to the library’s decór. However, today Roman managed to win their discussion and therefore a couple of podcast episodes read by them (What? Their voice was quite nice!!).

Roman ignored the small ring of the door’s bell as he entered the Flower Shop, looking around to be sure there was no clients before taking his position behind the balcony, internally thanking how chill Patton was with his employees using phone during the shift as long there wasn’t no one near, especially as he unlocked his screen and a new notification popped in front of him.

Butterflies went immediately crazy on his stomach.

[Message from Panic! At Everywhere]

[P: Hey. So, are you still ok?]

Virgil kicked his blanket out of his bed, already feeling a tad of giddiness spread across his body, a small smirk finding its way to his face without him even realizing. Today was the day. Since when he and Roman talked on the last week about boundaries to be sure nothing had changed and decided Saturday as a good day for their session the one with purple hair couldn’t help but let his thoughts wander, picturing and re-picturing what would happen, even though Roman always insisted to never tell him his plans, wanting to keep everything as a surprise, which definitely didn’t help at all the excitement running on his veins.

Their session.

Their tickle session. It was only eleven in the morning and Virgil could already feel his skin tingle just by imagine Roman’s fingers grazing, dancing on it, carefully looking for all his weak spots both knew so well before coming with an entire new technique that would make the other (almost, barely, hardly) want to jump out of his skin so he could escape from the maddening tickly sensation.

He was going to love it.

Also, it didn’t help that he spent the previous night and its following morning consuming all his favorite tickle content, dying on the spot (and on the reblogs) and skyrocketing his lee mood to the mountains.

Nevertheless, he tried to play nonchalant as answered the other’s new message.

[Message from Dumb(o)]

[D: Yes.]

[P: Cool.]

[D: You?]

[P: Yep.]

[D: Glad to know, Blushy Bug. Try to not alarm all of our neighborhood with your squeals and giggles before I get there, okay? ~

D: And yeah, plu-e-ase, continue with your so delightful tags on your reblogs, okay, Tickle me Emo? I’m learning so much new information with that. If only I would have an opportunity to use all of them today…]

Virgil snorted, one hand trying to hide his face as he attempted with all his might to ignore the flames taking over his cheeks as the teases sank and the memories from the day he conquered this nickname emerged from the deeps of his mind. So, Princey was already so over his head with being the ler this time? Thinking Virgil would be hiding his face on the pillow, squeaking and tittering helpless? Well, he would have a big storm coming, then.

Virgil got up, his footsteps leading him to the clean desk in the room, moving some of the objects so carefully chosen in order to get the perfect picture. Every single makeup brush lined, gleaming under the lens of his camera, away enough so the viewer would be able to realize all their individualities but close enough to create an impact.

Two can play this game.

[Panic! At Everywhere sent an image]

Roman clicked on it, eyes going immediately wide as he quickly slammed the cellphone’s screen on his red apron, his gaze running from a place to another to be sure no one was near or had seen the conversation or noticed the way his smile went from an ear to another.

[P: Nah. I’m too occupied choosing the perfect tools for today… I mean, there are just so many options, ya know? I especially prefer the smallest ones, their bristles softly running on my ribs, tracing their way across my tummy to get to the other side… yeah. That is the good stuff. Or maybe we could be experimenting the biggest ones today, letting them tease that spot right under my chin, the softness engulfing all the nerves… ]

Roman took a deep breath, realizing the other still typing.

[P: Anyway, don’t make a big deal of this, ‘kay? I know your imagination can be very fertile but try to not alert Patton with all your blush and twitching. You know he is a curious guy and will want to know why you’re so smiley. ;)]

“Pai amado, (Dear God) he is going to kill me.” Roman crossed his arms, using all his will to no start wiggling them to nothing, a sudden urge to sing some nursery rhymes making him begin to humming quietly as attempted to gather enough concentration to type a proper, cool reply.

[D: Is that so? So, the big, badass Virgil Storm is excited to get all his tickly-tickle-tickles today? Is he excited to become a so helpless, so adorable mess of giggles and squeaks? To be teased and tickled until he can do nothing but give me those lovely snorts and wiggly-wiggles? ~

Awww. So cute. ~]

[P: Yeah, I am. So what? Wanna do something about that, Sir Sing a Lot?

Ops, I forgot you’re at work rn. Tsc. Such a pity. Well, guess I will have to kill some time by looking at your precious collection of feathers, see if I find something interesting there.]

[D: You just wait for when I get home.]

[P: :)]

Virgil laid his phone at his side, hiding his face on the mattress, kicking just like he was some teenager in love from those generic movies. The squeals bubbled out from his lips, smiles blooming. He knew he probably was just digging his own grave, but, ha, as if he would fall without a fight. Plus, imagining Roman trying at every cost to keep a straight expression while reading his texts and then struggling to continue his work just as if nothing had happened, with that cute, excited smile planted on his face made a proud wave of power – and joy - hit him and that was a bonus which was worth it.

Then his phone vibrated, indicating a new notification and a new flood of shivers as he unlocked his screen, freezing for a couple of heartbeats with the length of the message.

[D: A poem for my dear Knightmare. ~

Once upon a time

There was a wiggley-wiggly lee

That just a few pokes

Made him giggle with glee

Some scribbles here

Some scratches there

You can tickle-tickle

He is ticklish everywhere!

What, you don’t believe me?

‘That much cute he can’t be!’

Well, then allow me to demonstrate

All the beautiful sounds he can create!

Give a few prodding on his ribs

And a quick digging on his hips

Some brushes on his toesies and feet

And don’t forget about these helpless pits!

(And hey, psst, if you squeeze his sides

The cutie, squeaky, wiggly lee,

Will be squealing in a happy delight)

This neck is also asking for tickly-kisses

He always denies, always desire

Add to that some teasy whispers

And watch his cheeks be set on fire!

Once upon a time

There was a bratty, smug lee

That just a few tickle teases

Can make him a blushy mess

Just like now, you see!]

[…]

“Have a nice day. Thank you for coming!”

Roman waved to the client who got out from the Flower Shop, taming the smugness which threatened to take over his features as he realized that even though an hour had passed, no answer to his last text had arrived yet. He was perfectly aware of how weak Virgil was for any sort of rhymed tease and a whole poem – not his best, he had to admit – dedicated to him? He could almost see the other shrieking, hiding his red face on the pillow, lost in a mess of quiet peals of laughter and curses. His smile got even bigger, swelled in pride. And, well, if he couldn’t help it but push his luck a few inches further, his fingers already halfway to typing a small, itsy bitsy, new tease to his favorite emo lee, how could someone really blame him?

[D: Oh, sorry. Did I make the scary Virgil too much flustered to talk? Awww, I will miss your sassy remarks deeply and sing a ballad in your honor at the funeral. ~]

He snorted at the amount of time the symbol of ‘typing’ appeared and disappeared on the conversation, using the ten minutes he took to be answered to organize a few sales signs on the glass in front of the store, gaining a dance on his step as the one-worded sentence shone on his phone.

[P: Bitch.]

[D: I have no idea of what you’re talking about. Is that something I said? I feel wounded.]

But a new thing popped up.

[Panic! At Everywhere sent a video]

[P: :)]

It seemed like hours passed, even if he knew the downloading probably didn’t really take more than a few pieces of minute for him to hit the play.

The focus of the camera took a few seconds to adjust, the image trembling and shaking before going still, the crystal clear form of a small light brown, slightly spiked feather twirling between Virgil’s index and thumb locking his eyes on the screen. A quick, quiet sigh could be heard before the tickle tool descended to the palm extended on a desk, stopping by Virgil’s pulse.

The bristles grazed the skin there as the feather began to move on slow strokes, going from the left to the right, left and right, left and right… calmly making its way up, changing to small swirls as it contorted the form of the hand, giving to each finger a light tracing before concentrating on the palm, drawing a spiral which approximated inch by inch to the center. If Roman wasn’t so quiet, - even holding his breath, - maybe he wouldn’t be able to listen the incredibly low, contained huffs of laughter on the background, a soft snort escaping and making both hands tremble as the bristles hit the center of his hand, dancing around the spot for a bit.

When it stopped, the tool was placed on the desk and then the camera started to move, stopping on Roman’s so very well-known golden with silver details box. Its lid laid next to it, letting its entire content to be proudly shown. The explosion of colors from the most diverse large, small, pointy, fluffy feathers took over the frame, however, a tiny piece of paper placed on the exact center of them was what captured his attention. The lens zoomed and focused, making him able to read the quick message written there.

“:)”

And then the screen went black. The video was over.

Roman could feel his face being almost split in half by his grin, his fingers hitting the table top in complete frenzy since they hadn’t to hold the device anymore, curling and uncurling as the one who couldn’t just stay still started to bounce his right leg, ignoring the redness he felt crippling down his neck.

“Roman?”

He fully shrieked. Both him and Patton startled and jumped a few centimeters in the air with the sudden sound. The florist slapping his own hand on his mouth, trying with all his inner strength to stop the bubbly giggles which flooded non stop from his lips

“Sorry for the scare, kiddo,” the shine on his eyes free of any guilt as Patton bit his own knuckles proved the contrary, especially when the rest of an awed squeal escaped from his lips, only making the other to giggle harder, eyes closed, blush deepening and nose scrunched. “Aww, your giggles are so cute!”

“Shuhuhush!!” The Flower Shop owner just smiled fondly, withholding his comments and patiently waiting for the other to recompose himself. When Roman looked at least a tad calmer he decided to make his decision to talk to him clear.

“I’m glad you’re in a good mood, Ro! I just wanted to remember today’s shift is already over. I need a bit of time to organize everything before the painter comes so we can discuss the new design of the Flower Shop. Thank you so much for the ideas, by the way! I can’t wait for you all to see the result! It will be so pretty!!” Roman’s wide eyes were enough of an explanation of why he wasn’t ready to go yet, probably having forgotten about their last month conversation. Although, the surprised look was away in an instant, a shine taking over his glare before he softened, locking his eyes with Patton.

“Of course, it will be, Patty-cake! With my magnificent ideas and your good taste, I really don’t think any other result besides wonderful and perfection will be possible!” He squeezed Patton’s cheeks and his friend stuck out his tongue at him, winning a quick poke on his ribs that made him squirms and yelp, quickly tittering and waving the other with his hands.

“Now shoo-shoo, go enjoy your afternoon!”

A devious smirk gleamed on Roman’s expression for a second. “You can count on it, Padre.” But then it was gone as quickly as it appeared. “Thank you, my mighty hero in a shiny armor! May the universe let our destiny align again in the future.”

“See ya, kiddo!” He replied, his tune also full of joy, watching the one with red hair going away, a happy bounce on his steps.

[…]

Virgil picked the phone in the first ring. “Roman, something happened?”

“Nope,” the purple lover sighed in relief, all the tension getting out of his body and being replaced by confusion, “nothing happened except that a handsome, incredible someone got out from his work earlier than expected and might be heading his home by now.”

That made Virgil shot up, biting his lower lip, butterflies freaking out. “No.” It was his whisper.

“Oh, yes. ~” Roman practically purred on the speaker. “any last words, my dear, defenseless Giggly Storm?”

Virgil just giggled and Roman had almost forgotten how that sound only was enough to spread an explosion of a warm, good feeling on his chest. “Aw, and here I was thinking I would have at least some challenge today. ~” He continued to tease.

Silence.

“Go check your messages, Princeypie.”

And then he hung up. Roman fondly rolled his eyes, running to check the new notification on their conversation.

[Panic! At Everywhere sent a photo]

It was Virgil, sitting on his bed criss crossed, one elbow resting on his thigh as he took the picture on the body mirror on the other side of the room, a strong blush very visible on his face half hidden by the device, wearing a short and Roman’s red crop top. A new message popped right under the photo.

[P: Get your butt here and tickle me, Sir Sing a Lot.’]

This emo was going to be the death of him.

[D: Aww, I don’t even get a smile?]

[P: You gotta work for those, Princey.]

Virgil definitely did not jump nor yelp as he heard the low, dangerous tune of an “evil” laughter echoes in the house coming from the living room, the sound of the front door being closed making his flight instincts kick in.

“Oh, don’t worry.” Virgil was already halfway to the most far away room where he could escape, trying to keep his reputation as he heard another set of footsteps quickly getting ground and following right behind him. Laughter and squeaks mixed in the air.

“Because I will.” Roman answered.

#Very teasy #Teases #Lee!Virgil #Ler!Roman #Virgil is a brat and Roman is one as well #Ticklish!Virgil #Sanders Sides tickles #Sanders Sides tickling #Kanene's Fanfic #Kanene's Art #Kanene's fic #Brief self tickles #Feathers #blushy bois #Writing this kind of fic is very fun and sdfghertcvgbhn kind of silly as well #Virgil: Tickle me// Roman: Okay// Virgil: *NYOOOM*#I still don't know how to tag this dfghjsdfghdcf #I feel like my writing is a bit weird nowdays but yeah I'm still proud of this!

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