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pentrologram · 2 months ago

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What Normal People Do - 3

You've been, frankly, having a shit day. Your boyfriend (whom you don't even like that much) breaking up with you was your final straw. Then two very attractive young men and their service dog walk into your life and can't seem to leave. bit of a rushed chapter- not as finely tuned as i would like it to be. the reader kinda took me by the ear and wrote this chapter themselves, lol ao3! ghost/soap/gn!reader (established ghoap)

Lately, I've Been Crying Like A Tall Child

You have, frankly, been having a pretty shit day. Firstly you had three difficult patients back to back with varying degrees of Bitching Mothers™️ that insisted on you throwing safety to the wind for a small payout. You heard a lot of:

“No, can we skip that vaccine? I heard from my nail girl that they have red dye 40 in them,” one had said, her springy six-year-old doodling with the crayons and colouring books provided. You feel your jaw tick as you put on your best customer service smile.

“No ma’am, we can’t because the diphtheria vaccine is meant to help her. She’s at risk right now of getting it. She could die, ma'am.” You say. She frowned, a little convinced, but still stubborn.

“I don’t know if I want red dye in her bloodstream-“

“There’s no red dye 40 in any vaccine she'll ever get.” You grit out. “Ma’am.” She sighed as if she was being forced, but she nodded her head anyway.

“Well, I’m trusting you here.” She said, dramatically sighing.

Another was upset you had given her son a purple band-aid after his vaccine. The last openly talked about her tween daughter’s problems- ‘blightin’ useless, she is, scored dead last in her class- surely there’s something you can do to her, lovie?’- she had said while the said tween sat, mortified, on the table after you had told her through gritted teeth that that wasn’t related at all to your job.

After all of that, you were done with your job. Like, ‘I’m going to punch my next patient kind of done’.

You make it through the last bits of your shift with no more rude and/or stupid patients and without assaulting anyone. You make it to your car before texting the one person you trusted to not overwhelm you in your fragile state ; your friend from uni, Emma.

Today 2:28 PM

- can we hang? please? abt to commit second degree murder

- always, babes 😘

- St. James’ Park

- give me an hour

And that’s how you found yourself in a strawberry festival with Em, laughing at her as she tried to throw strawberry-shaped bean bags into strawberry-shaped corn holes while wearing a strawberry-shaped hat that was frankly ridiculous. Actually, this entire thing was ridiculous . Perfectly so because you could barely remember why you had been murderous earlier.

When you’ve both got strawberry scones and are walking to your next destination- a strawberry jewellery stall, at her insistence- two very hot, very large men with a dog pass by you. One of them is wearing a black surgical mask that does nothing to hide how pretty his deep brown eyes are, framed with pale blond eyelashes that almost blend into his porcelain-pale skin that’s marred by multiple scars. The other one, who was shorter than the blond but still tall in his own right, had bright blue eyes, a friendly smile and short, spiky brown hair cut in a mohawk. The German shepherd trotting along with them has a harness that reads ‘SERVICE DOG - DO NOT DISTURB’. You’re snapped out of your thoughts by Em whispering in your ear:

“Hunks galore.”

“More like a one-way ticket to pound town.” You whisper back. Em smacks your arm and then you cackle together because the two hunks are surprisingly very fast walkers and have already left you in the dust.

Maybe an hour later, Em gets a text from her girlfriend.

“My maiden!” Em exclaims as she looks down at her phone while chatting with you about nothing over strawberry tea cakes. “Her car broke down!” Em says. “Oh, I’m sorry babe, I’ve gotta dash. I’ll see you later, mmkay?” She kisses your cheek and then she’s off.

Thinking of Em’s girlfriend reminds you of your significantly worse love life. You have a boyfriend right now, but it isn’t like you’re head over heels or anything. He’s nice but a little boring- admittedly, you’ve dated worse. Maybe that’s why you’ve stayed for half a year.

You decide to wander around the fair for a little longer, needing some extra cheer to make it through the work week and you more or less get pulled into getting your hand read by an elderly woman in a strawberry dress unwittingly. She’s small, definitely shorter than you, but her eyes are wise and her smile is knowing.

“Come, sit,” she frets, pulling out a wooden chair for you. So you do. Then she demands you give her your hands. So you do. She puts on reading glasses while she hunches over your outstretched palm, peering down at the fine lines. She makes a contemplative noise before tracing a wrinkle. “Misery soon,” she observes. “Oh, dear, within the hour.” She stares down some more. “It’ll be repaid tenfold with good karma, don’t worry your pretty heart.” Her face brightens. “Oh-ho, companionship! Soon! Oh- my, very good friends.” She says, gaping for a moment at your hand. “Hmm. Maybe some bumps on the road but that’s to be expected. It’ll be worth it, dear.” She pats your hand with one of her old, withered ones, slipping a strawberry bonbon into your hold with a wink. “Now shoo!”

You leave feeling a little confused. Just an old lady with a complex, you rationalise. And just as you’re finishing up making your last rounds, passing by stalls, your phone rings with a text. So you pull over and read the text from your boyfriend.

Today 6:52 PM

- hey

- hi babe

- i need 2 tell u smth

- okay?

- i wanna break up

- idk i feel like things hv gotten stale

- u dont mind right

-u can come get ur stuff

So surely it’s no surprise to anyone when you turn into an alleyway, slump against a concrete wall and start ugly crying while staring down at your phone. While admittedly you weren’t that upset about being broken up with, you were upset about so suddenly moving out. Going out onto the housing market, so soon and so late in the day, no less, was sending you down a panic-induced spiral.

Then there is a large, comforting weight on your lap, like someone had covered you with a weighted blanket. You open your eyes a little, tears still falling, and you see a German shepherd on your lap, nudging your elbow with its muzzle. Then you see the service dog harness and remember the dog as the one that had been side by side with the hunks that passed you and Em. You gawk for a moment before determinedly trying to stop your tears; if the dog is here, surely the very hot, otherworldly hot owners are nearby. You’d hate for them to see you snivelling.

You focus on the big, fluffy body on you and, damn, whatever the hell the dog’s doing is working because you no longer feel like the world is ending. You just need a new apartment. Worse has happened.

Once you take some deep breaths, you immediately see one of the hunks standing there. Just… watching. You panic, because you can’t fully read his expression from under his mask, and surely he must be mad that his service dog had pounced on you. You try to convince the dog to move but it’s having none of it.

“Oh, no, I’m sorry, your dog sort of- um, trapped me here, I didn’t mean to-“

“No.” The hunk says (he’s hotter up close). He’s gruff and big and truth be told he does not seem like the kind of person you wouldn't want to argue with, so you stay quiet. “She wanted to help you. ‘S fine.” He says.

“Um,” you say. “Okay. Are you sure?”

The hunk merely grunts. “Are you okay?” He asks, and perhaps you’re being persuaded by his sheer mass and your new-found single status, but you swear his voice has softened a little, to not spook you more.

“Oh, um. Yeah.” You say, internally wincing at your overuse of ‘oh’.

The hunk stares down at you for a long while. Did you do something wrong? Shit. Maybe he does really mind. You shift underneath his dog awkwardly and feel the urge to explain yourself.

“I just, um- I have an, um. A thing.” You say quietly. It’s not an entire lie- yeah, you were half-convinced you had a ‘thing’ from Em’s insistence that ‘you’re not okay, babe!’ multiple times over. You can’t help the guilt of telling a lie when you weren’t diagnosed with anything, however.

“Are you okay?” He asks. Again. “Riley doesn’t start DPT on total strangers for no reason.” He sounds dry, but… insistent. Somehow. It leaves you with no way to squeeze out a lie. His pretty eyes stare two dead holes into yours, and you’re sure you’re gonna get vaporized, Terminator style. Unease creeps into your gut.

“No, I’m OK. Just… got a little upset.” You say weakly, forcing out your best smile. You’re proud that you don’t grimace instead. He just keeps on staring at you, showing no inclination of answering. Then, just as you’re about to force the dog off, the other hunk- an Amazon gladiator, holy hells- walks in, excitement in his eyes.

“Si, ‘ave found a strawberry sex stall-!“ He says, but then he notices you and his expression goes into something you can’t read.

“Well, hello, there.” He says. You surely must look like a deer caught in headlights.

“Hello,” you squeak out, because not one but two superhumanly hot men are paying you attention. You gently push the dog off of you, mumbling a ‘bye’ before you scurry away and straight to your car. You don’t look back.

——

The next morning, you’ve just packed up your every belonging from your ex-boyfriend’s flat- he didn’t even bother to help- and rented out a storage cube, packed in everything single-handedly, and then got the best sleep of your life in a hotel. You had woken up and then gone to a coffee shop because your entire day would be filled with hunting down an affordable place to rent. You had Em help you fill out a few applications while you were driving from the ex’s flat to the storage cube to the flat and then storage again .

You’re reading through an email one of the landlords of one of the nicer apartments sent you this morning as you walk inside, give the barista your order and pay. Your reading quickly becomes scanning- you got the place!- for payments to make, forms to fill, people to contact, etc. But you’re stoked! This new apartment is better than the ex’s, and the one you had before him, so you really can’t help yourself from smiling like a dork.

“Seems like ye’ve got a love-hate relationship wif’ that thing.” A masculine and not too unfamiliar voice says from your right.

You startle, almost ready to throw hands, and then remember that the voice is familiar. You stare at him- shit, it’s the Amazon from yesterday. Everything had been so chaotic you had forgotten about that embarrassing encounter with the hunks, but you had no such luck. It’s fine. He doesn’t seem too disgusted with you.

“Oh! No, um. I got broken up with yesterday.” You say, reading his expression to see if there’s any hatred there , that you accidentally made his service dog sniff you out and take him away from his boyfriend. “Had to move out and find a new place on short notice.”

“And ye got the place?” He says, pretty blue eyes soft and inviting. It’s like he cares.

“Yes. It’s really lovely . Rent’s maybe a bit much but I’m sure I can budget it… It’s such a great stroke of luck that I’ve found it under 24 hours.” Ouch. Overshare. You cringe inwardly.

The Amazon nods.

“O’ course. ‘M glad fer ye.” Hot and nice. If he wasn’t a taken man….

“Thank you.” You say, smiling shyly. He smiles- big and bright and genuine.

“Och, no need tae thank me.”

Your brow furrows and you’re about to explain how your thanks are very much deserved- you should be thanking him for breathing the same air as you, much less hold a conversation with you- and then the barista calls out a poor butchering of your name and you leave because you’ve got some new-apartment paperwork to do.

It’s only halfway through scanning PDFs that you realise you hadn’t even gotten his number.

——

You’re going grocery shopping because it’s been three days and you’re frankly getting sick of takeout. You had written a list and you were considering if you needed apples when, for the second time this week, a masculine voice shocks you out of your train of thought.

“Well, lookit tha’!” The Amazon exclaims (you haven’t even gotten his name). You look up from your pondering. He smiles the way he had at the cafe; big and bright, and he claps your shoulder with his big hand.

“How’s the new flat?” He asks.

“Oh, it’s better than the photos,” you say. Just thinking about how pretty the flat was during your tour yesterday was enough to make you smile again.

“‘M glad, bonnie.” He says.

“Bonnie?” You ask, confused. Did he think that was your name?

“Don’t worry about it! How about this weather?” The Amazon says loudly , making you blink.

You chat with Johnny in the produce section about whatever comes to mind, and then at some point the Amazon- Johnny, as he introduces himself- shifts your focus from the groceries and he ushers you to a new cafe right next to the grocery store. You buy your drink and find a booth and you spend at least two hours talking with Johnny. At some point, you had to leave because you truly did have other things to do, no matter how nice the conversation was.

——

The next day, you’ve gotten your keys and are moving your boxes into your new flat. The neighbours seem quiet, you think, as you heft a box of plates into the apartment.

It’s been about half an hour before you get all the boxes inside and start fiddling with some deadbolts you’d bought on Amazon, just in case.

"Need help?" A voice asks, materialising behind you and spooking the living hell out of you. You then recognize him as the blond hunk- Johnny’s boyfriend, Simon. He’s staring- waiting for an answer, shit.

"No, I'm okay. Um, thank you, though." You say, still feeling remnant fear from his sudden appearance.

"Did you just move in?" He asks. Blunt, you think. The dog from earlier is there, too, tail wagging.

“Yes.” You hesitate- no way you have enough luck in this world to bag a beautiful apartment and beautiful neighbours. You decide you just have to know. “Do you… live here?” You ask.

Simon grunts. “We’re the flat over.”

“Oh!” You smile. “Well. Thank you for offering to help, neighbour.” You say, cringing a little- 'neighbour'? really?- but you put on a smile that must coax a smile from Simon from underneath his face mask. Then he says bye and you’re quick to reciprocate while the dog trots over to butt its head against your leg, and then they go into the flat over, just like Simon said.

——

The next morning, Johnny and Simon, your new, beautiful neighbours, are at your door at ten. Thankfully, it’s your day off, otherwise, they’d be knocking in an empty apartment.

When you open your door after the second knock, Johnny is standing in front of Simon outside your front door, holding a platter full of blueberry muffins and a still-tired Simon hovering behind him- almost protectively, you think. You probably don’t look the best as your plans today were to rot in bed.

“Hello, you two.” You say, trying to subtly fix your appearance while smiling .

“Hi! Ae made ye muffins. Tae help settle ‘ta the new flat.” Johnny says proudly.

“Wow, thank you. You didn’t have to. Here, come inside- I’m sorry, it’s a mess,” you apologise, inwardly panicking. After you’d gotten all the boxes in, you hadn’t even considered unpacking anything but the essentials yet. And you’d gone digging for certain things, leaving a few boxes open with stuff falling out.

“You got here last night?” Simon asks gruffly while you direct Johnny to set the muffins on your kitchen island.

“Can I make you some tea?” You ask, scrambling for your manners- God, it’d been a while since you last had new people over. You start looking for your kettle.

They start a conversation with you about the weather as you look for mugs and tea bags.

“Sorry, no sugar. Or creamer.” You apologise, making up for it with more tea than normal in their mugs.

Then you talk about leasing dates, the landlord, the best parking areas, the cheapest takeouts, and things to do around.

They manage to get you in their apartment once you become immersed in the conversation enough, just picking back up where you left off on their rather comfy couch. Johnny is more talkative than Simon is, but that’s not to say that Simon is a hulking statue (though that’d be hot, too). He grunts when appropriate, asks you questions, rags on Johnny and seems genuinely interested in the comings and goings of your life.

By the time you leave, it’s half past five and you have a full feeling from companionship. —— You come to realise that Simon and Johnny are the sort of friends you can rely on. You were putting your brand new bed frame up when you realised you didn't have a single screwdriver, so you had tucked your tail and asked the boys if they had one- and to your surprise (and delight) Simon came right over with a toolbox and made the entire frame without being asked to. He even put the mattress atop your new frame. He was just about to fix the hinges on your door before you had to stop him and make him lunch before he remade the entire flat. "Really, you didn't have to do that, Simon," you fret while putting a sandwich together for him while he stares at you, toolbox sitting on the kitchen island. "Sure I did." He says. It's like in their mind they've made up that they have to take care of you- like earlier this week. You'd just gotten home from work and decided to get groceries while you were out and about- you needed milk, anyways. But between the shopping bags and your work bag, your arms were a little overloaded. You didn't want to go through two trips, either, which resulted in you holding five bags and fumbling around for your keys. It was inevitable, really, that your work bag would slip and fall. You had groaned and just began to bend your knees before you here an 'och, le'me!' from behind you. Johnny is there, taking your work bag and then three of the remaining bags from your arms. "Johnny, it's-" "Nae, I dinnae hear it. Open your door, bonnie." He seems intent on calling you that, too. Even though he knows your name. You'll have to ask about it soon. You just sigh and unlock your door before putting one of the grocery bags down, Johnny following suit. "Thank you." "Nae sweat o' ma back." He says with a boyish grin before leaving and closing the door behind you. The attention is nice, really. It feels good to be so close to some people you could trust.

<- back next ->

#ghoap #ghoap x reader #gn reader #dog owner ghost #riley (the dog)#slow burn #strangers to friends to lovers #exes #no bad blood #he just kinda sucked #not beta read #we die like men #vivi's writing

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rgslings · 1 year ago

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Back To You

Pairing: Charlie Cox x Reader

Warnings: fluff, established friendship, comfort?? new writer so bare with me.

Summary: You hadn't seen your best friend in some months due to filming and you thought it was time to make a surprise visit. Little did you know, things would change between you two.

Word Count: 1.8k (short ik D:)

a/n: my first post but this is just a little blurb. i had more ideas for this but i don't know if i wanted to keep writing it or not so if you guys want me to do a second part to this let me know :D thank you sm jess for this idea by the way! (i'm also like HORRIBLE at writing so if this is bad, just excuse me adlkjfdf. i also didn't proof read so :P)

The almost every day visits or the coffees he brought you in mornings when you had a long day ahead of you, turned into the every few hour texts, sometimes small phone calls if you were lucky. Conversations not lasting long, you were craving not only your best friend, but the man who had become your comfort person. You missed his voice, his smile, the way his big hands rested on the small of your back as he hugged you. Most of all though, you missed his presence.

Now you couldn't see him for a bit of time as he filmed for "Daredevil: Born Again". You were so proud of him, you really were, but the distance killed you. More than you thought it should of, but what could you say, he had your entire heart and he didn't know it. You were always so scared to tell him the truth, especially because you felt like the feelings you had would never reciprocate. Not only wanting to see him, but to tell him the truth on how you truly felt, you booked a round trip to New York to surprise him. Deep down you knew you weren't the only one missing someone. He missed you more than you would ever know.

It was currently 12:35am and you sat on your flight, anticipation killing you from the inside out. You were almost in New York and he had no clue where you were. Calling him earlier that night to have a chat for a bit and say your goodnights was were you left off. Little did he know you were about to leave for your flight, but here you sit now, almost about to hit the run way.

Getting off your plane, you stood in the middle of the airport for a minute, letting all your messages catch up to you. What really caught your eye from a quick gaze was the "I love you sweetheart" text he had left for you. Butterflies flew in the pit of your stomach, roaming freely as a blushed creeped up and onto your rosy cheeks. You could always hear the way he called you sweetheart in your head and it constantly replayed. It was truly music to your ears.

Quickly texting back Charlie saying, "I love you too boo:) hope you're sleeping well<3". You smiled at your own text like a kid in the candy store, imagining his face lighting up to your text. It was only gonna be soon enough till you saw him. I mean you could surprise him now, but honestly, you had no clue where he was staying at the time being. So for now, your plan was to surprise him where you knew he'd be filming tomorrow. And to you, you didn't care who was there to watch. You just wanted to see your "best friend".

Hurrying off to hail a cab, you were soon off to your hotel. Each minute closer till you saw him again. You just for sure wanted to get rest before you saw him later that morning.

(time skip blah blah blah :D)

Waking up the next morning, you quickly sat up, a smile instantly blooming on your face. Today was the day you would break your distance and he still had no clue you were there. Reaching over to grab your phone, you ignored most the notifications, as all you cared about was his.

"Hey sweetheart, hope you slept well. Shoot me a text when you can." was what Charlie had wrote to you just only an hour ago. Not replying, you quickly got up to get dressed. Slightly fast walking into your bathroom, you quickly slapped on some makeup to make yourself feel elegant for this small occasion. You knew he didn't care whether you wore makeup or not, but to you, you always wanted to look good for him. You also reminded yourself when packing to pack his favorite body mist of yours, making sure to apply it evenly.

You remembered the first time you had it on, as it was a new scent for you, and the way he wrapped his arms around you. His nose catching a sniff of it on your neck and then and there, that was per heaven to him. After his comment, you never disregarded to put it on, especially when you knew he'd be around you.

Looking in the mirror, you slightly smirked at yourself, knowing you looked hella good. "Okay this is it, I'm gonna go see him," You spoke to yourself in the mirror, a small squeal of excitement coming out in the end. God, you were like a fan girl meeting her favorite celebrity. I mean he was your favorite, who could blame you. Especially with how he looks… especially those biceps.

Quickly shaking your head, you pulled yourself out of your thoughts. You knew you had no time to think about this now, you needed to see him. Grabbing your purse and phone, you slipped on your shoes and slipped out your hotel door. Little did you know, you left your hotel key card inside.

You knew Charlie wasn't filming too far down the street from where your hotel was and that's exactly why you picked it. As you stepped outside the tall building, you took in the bustling streets of New York. "Oh this should be fun," You muttered to yourself as you started walking in the direction of the set. You hated public crowds, especially big ones like this, and deep down, your anxiety had set in as soon as you set foot off the plane. Pushing past your negative thoughts, you slipped in your earbuds, trying to forget the world existed till you made it to your final destination.

Soon enough, you rounded the corner, keeping your distance as you saw them wrapping up for a break. This was the golden time to see him. Waiting for a few minutes as all the crew continued chattering along, you decided to text him.

"Behind you silly ;)", you texted him.

Confused, he turned around, his eyes instantly catching yours, quickly shoving his phone in his pocket. The inside of you was breaking down with tears as you cupped a hand over your mouth to keep the joyful sobs quiet. Running across the crosswalk as fast as you could through the crowd of people, you ran to him, throwing your arms around his neck. You didn't even give him another second to look at you before you latched onto him. He knew how much you had needed him these last few months and it broke his heart when he couldn't be there in person, but now that was all over. It was you and him, right here, right now.

You held back your sobs as best as you could, but deep down, this was what your heart had yearned for on the nights where you were down. These were the same arms you wanted wrapped around you when you wanted to cry, and now, here there were at once. "When did you get here?", Charlie asked surprised, only pulling back enough to look into your eyes. You giggled a little at the confusion in his voice. "Last night actually, but I wanted to rest before I saw you", You responded with the biggest smile on your face. Actually, you didn't know who had the bigger smile.

That was one thing you always loved about Charlie. His smile could always light up a room and it especially always light up your world. Always.

"You shoulda told me sweetheart! I woulda loved to see you last night. I missed you so much," He said cutely, resting his chin on top of your head, pulling you back into him. "Well don't worry, I'm here now. I missed you so much too though. I know you know that," You said replying back, closing your eyes and taking in the moment. Charlie's heart broke on the inside at your words though. It hurt him to know he had to be gone so much. He knew you this is how it had to be and you supported him dearly, but he also knew how much it broke your heart for him to have to be gone. Deep down, he was more than happy you were here. Little did you know, he missed your comfort just as much as you did his.

"Well, you know I don't have a break too long, but we can spend sometime together, maybe order some takeout tonight and chill yeah?", He said, pulling back to look at you again. You nodded your head slightly and stepped out of his arms a little more, giving more friendly like space. "Yeah that'll be grand," You joked, referencing back to one of his other characters he plays. A small chuckle escaped his lips as he hugged you once more.

After spending a little time eating at a cafe on the corner, you spent the remainder of the day just sight seeing. Not doing too much, but you wanted to find something to do since Charlie had to film. Later that night though, you walked to his apartment he had there, after he told you were it was, and knocked on the door. Opening it, you caught his eyes gazing at you a little longer than they should of, but you ignored it and stepped into his apartment.

"It's not much, but what could I say? I don't need much," He said and you laughed at that. "I mean that's true," You commented back, kicking your shoes off and dropping onto his loveseat.

"Man this couch is nice," You spoke up after some silence, cuddling more into it and Charlie chuckled at you. "I agree with you there," He replied as he was typing away at his phone, standing up in the kitchen.

Walking over to the couch, he moved your feet, plopping down with a sigh.

"Hard day love?", You asked with slight concern in your voice and he nodded.

"Better now that you're here though," He said smiling and picked up his phone again. You blushed at his words and tried to hide your face by looking into the distance of the small living room. 2 small book cases built into the cream colored walls as he had a small tv stand in between, flush against the wall. A small flat screen sat on top, a few dvds spread across the top. Few small paintings and posters plastered the walls across the apartment, giving a small flow of artwork. It was a comfy space to you and you quite enjoyed it, even if it was your first time here.

"You good with Chinese for takeout?", Charlie asked out of the blue and you just nodded tiredly. He already knew what you liked, so the topic wasn't much in question. Quietly turning on the tv, he glanced over, noticing your eyes starting to get heavy. Charlie knew you long enough now to know exactly what that meant. Soon you were gonna swoon into sleep.

Charlie lured the blanket that situated on the back of the couch onto your serene body. Man was he in love with you and you didn't even know it.

#charlie cox #charlie cox x reader #matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #michael kinsella #michael kinsella x reader

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cannibalcoyote · 2 years ago

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David Bowie: Sun Rays and Rainy Days

Imagine not liking David Bowie, and running into him during your stay in New York:

David Bowie, an amazing musician and actor, but also my worst enemy.

Why? Let's just say he said some not so flattering things about me to the press and wrote a not so flattering song that criticized pretty much my entire life. We haven't even met in real life, so I'm not sure where he gets off on the idea that anything he says about me holds meaning or truth.

I just really want to ask him what prompted him to write and say such cruel things about me, but I'm getting ahead of myself. My name is Y/N L/N, and I'm an American musician, my genres include hard rock, punk, alternative rock, and art rock; I would say I'm a fairly famous musician in the US and across Europe.

———————

The sky was unrealistically blue this early New York morning, like God had woken up and decided that only the bluest of blue would do today.

Most people enjoy blue skies, but being raised in California makes you either adore or detest them with an undying passion. I personally love rainy weather, so this day is already starting off on the wrong foot.

Checking the clock I sigh in wariness, already feeling tired even though I just woke up. I've been feeling anxious every time I wake up, this only started earlier this year due to the fact that a certain idol of mine has been voicing their negative opinion on me.

I'd normally brush it off and say 'fuck them', but this is David Bowie we're talking about. I love his music, I love his story, most importantly how he went through so many hardships yet still pushed forward.

Now I just regret ever thinking any of this was a good idea, sure all the money is nice, but all my relationships fell through. They started expecting me to pay for everything, wanting me to take them on expensive vacations and get them expensive gifts; now my idol feels the need to hate me as well? Just great.

I'm shook from my thoughts by the stern but smooth voice of my manager. He's a nice man, kind of reminds me of my father in his overall outward aura of professionalism, but a sharp streak of eccentricity shows when you really get to know him.

"Y/N, you've got an interview at 5, that should give you a couple of hours to wander around. Please keep your disguise on this time, I don't need a repeat of London." My manager exclaims with a humorous smile, my face burning in embarrassment at the memory of London. I had been wandering the streets and stupidly decided that it was late enough that no one would be able to recognize me, also being naive and believing I wasn't famous enough to be recognized yet ... Oh how wrong I was. The crowd that formed filled up the streets, I was newly famous, so I didn't expect anyone to recognize me, but the world felt the need to prove me wrong.

"No need to worry, I learned my lesson." I smile sheepishly, he softly pats my shoulder before leaving my hotel room.

Glancing in the mirror I swiftly start fixing my hair and checking my outfit, my mind wandering to my plans. I'm meeting an interviewer today, he's supposed to be a bit of an aggressive one, a little rude from what I've seen, and no questions are out of bounds.

To say I'm a little nervous is an understatement, this is the first interview I've accepted in my 3 years of stardom, so I'm sure he'll be extra aggressive in order to get as many details as possible. I just hope he doesn't bring up the conflict with Bowie, because I really don't have a reason as to how that even started.

———————

My day hasn't actually been that bad, no one has recognized me, so I just got to spend the day as a normal person. I moseyed along the sidewalks, just taking in the hectic environment that is New York. I've been walking around for quite a bit now, stopping in some stores and looking for interesting books to read in my off-time.

I've just bought a sketchbook and some pens when I notice some people that set me on edge. They're about 10 feet away from me, and they're giving me the "is that who I think it is" look. I gulp stiffly as a nervous chill passes down my spine, quickly thanking the cashier as I grab my things and stumble out of the store.

Looking back I can see them follow me, one of them shouting out to me.

"Are you Y/N L/N?" My throat tightens up, I look around frantically, and my fears seem to be coming true. The people on the crowded sidewalks immediately turn their heads at hearing my name. I can see some look for a little, clearly being confused before seeing through my disguise and noticing that it is me.

People start rushing forward, holding out things and excitedly asking for an autograph, something that I usually oblige to, but I am currently in a New York street with no security and no cellphone.

I'm being surrounded, some people are grabbing my shoulders, some pulling on the sleeves of my jacket in the hopes of gaining my attention. All it does is make me frightened, the London event gave me a permanent fear of crowds. I can feel myself start to hyperventilate, all the shouts are turning into one sound, it's so loud yet so quiet at the same time.

My mind is so distorted that I don't even notice I've been running, shoving my way out and being dreadfully aware of how they chase me. Camera flashes are coming from every direction, as are new people fanatically asking for an autograph or a picture; it's all so scary. Why do these people chase me? Why do they swarm around me to get some ink lines on a piece of paper? Why?

I turn a corner in hopes of slickly escaping, but suddenly find myself on the floor, having run into a rather solid chest. I exclaim an apology as I messily stand up, trying to make a run for it, but the person already has a hold on my arms to stop my escape.

"Hold on darling, what are you running from?" I recognize that voice, I look up and want to gasp in both surprise and fear, but the reappearance of the crowd stops me.

"That." I state, staring at the crowd and beginning to hyperventilate again, but I'm stopped when I find myself being swiftly dragged away. I have a hard time keeping up, he is about 5 inches taller than me after all, so he's like one step to every two of mine.

I don't know where he's taking me at first, but when I see the awaiting limo I find myself rushing forward in a burst of speed; dragging him next to me.

He does slap my hand away from the door before opening it and ushering me in before entering.

"Hello John, can you get us out of here." His accented tone is stressed, but still maintains an air of control. I used to love that voice, but now it makes me uncomfortable being so close to him and having to hear him in real life.

I move away from him, pushing myself up against the opposite door and looking at anything but him. The crowd was about 3 yards away when the limo screeched forward, my body finally releasing some of its rigidity as I see them disappear the longer we drive.

I close my eyes, leaning back in my seat as the exhaustion sweeps through me. I rest my hand against my forehead in frustration, in the next hour, all of New York will know I was spotted here and come looking for me. How am I supposed to get in contact with my manager, I don't have a cell, and I can't go asking strangers to borrow theirs.

My mind wants to continue its frustrated tirade, but I am startled out of it by a large hand softly tapping my shoulder. I look over and see a curious David Bowie, offering me a sheepish smile at having distracted me.

"Allo luv." His lovely voice politely rings through the car, I almost want to ask him if he'll write a song with me, but then the harsh reality of everything he's said smacks me in the face.

"Don't call me that." I didn't snap, but my voice was stern, letting him know that this is going to be a tense conversation. His smile falters, clearly not used to being met with such disdain.

"Well... What did you do to get that crowd chasing you?" He brushes off our tense beginning, clearly still curious as to why I was being chased. I glance into his calming eyes and realize he doesn't recognize me, or at least that's what I'm assuming. If he did recognize me, I doubt he would've ushered me into his limo so quickly.

"I don't think we've been formally introduced. My name is Y/N L/N." He raises his eyebrows in surprise at my sudden words, but his face is now cautious, looking at me as though I've just lied straight to his face. Sighing in irritation I pull off my gray fedora and sunglasses before gently removing my wig to show my short hair. He sits back in shock, facing away from me as his eyes fall to his hands.

"... Oh." The car falls back into silence, he clearly doesn't know how to respond. I roll my eyes as I shove the wig into my handbag, hooking the glasses to my shirt before replacing the hat back upon my head. I feel slightly flustered at being saved by him, I should at least thank him, but I think that can wait until I get out of the car.

"...Um. Where would you like me to go, sir?" David looks startled from his haze, quickly glancing to me before back to his driver. He's about to speak when a loud noise startles everyone in the car, closely followed by the sharp hits of water on the windshield. I immediately look out the window, being met with the unexpected view of storm clouds completely filling the once blue sky. I want to smile, I love rain and thunder, but I have no idea what my address is, and I am certainly not dressed for the rain.

"What? Don't like rain Mrs.L/N?" David's irritatingly attractive voice grabs my attention. I look over to him before back to the rain.

"No.. I actually love the rain, and it's Miss, not Mrs." I respond, watching as the rain drops drizzle down the windows. The people on the streets hurriedly running for cover, seemingly as surprised by the rain as I am.

"Drop me off on that street corner, I'll find my way home from there." I say, not looking at David or the driver.

"What do you mean you'll find your way home? Don't you know your address?" David's voice is clearly distressed at the thought of just dropping me off on the corner of a random street. It's my turn to sheepishly smile, scratching the back of my head as I shake my head 'no'. The driver pulls the car over, coming to halt on a quiet street.

I reach my hand over to the handle, but I'm interrupted by David grabbing arm, his grasp gently but firm. His looks so concerned that I almost pity him.

"Don't go, at least let me drop you off at a restaurant or something... " His sentence drops off at the end, clearly hoping I'll give in, but I am in no mood to deal with any of this today. I pull myself from his grasp, opening the door and stepping out; the cold rain sends a refreshing chill down my spine. I turn away, readjusting my hat and bag, much too busy to notice David getting out after me.

"It's much too cold for you out here darling. Let me drop you somewhere safer than this at least." I can tell he's getting desperate at this point, but it really only makes me angry. How dare he say these things to me after bad mouthing me.

"How dare you act like you care about me." My words are unexpected to both of us, I didn't mean to speak my thoughts, but I guess I can't stop now. I turn around and face him, having to look up at his face due to the unfair height difference.

"You say the most awful things about me to the press, you make fun of my music, then you make fun of my life choices? Now you stand here acting all worried about my well-being?" My voice is equally as distressed as his expression, he clearly wasn't expecting my aggressive response. I take a step forward into his personal space, poking my pointer finger harshly against his chest as I glare into his eyes.

"You were one of the people I looked up to. We had never even met when I randomly heard you say I was some whore who somehow worked her way up to the top." My words are slurring, and my eyes are burning a bit. I don't know why I'm getting so emotional, maybe it's because I was so heartbroken at hearing him kick dirt on my name, or maybe it's because I stupidly gave his opinion a place in my mind.

I didn't even notice that my tears had escaped my eyes and were carving paths down my face until he brought his hands up to cup my jaw. His touch was so gentle as he wiped away my tears, so excessively tender I started to think I was made of thin glass that could be snapped in half.

"I was scared... I was scared, okay? And I know that's not an excuse, and I am sorry." His tone feels rushed yet hesitant, like he doesn't want me to even think about running off. I look straight into his eyes, finally seeing the guilt coursing through them in waves.

"Scared? Of what?" I'm so confused, why would he ever be scared of me? I was only barely a celebrity when he said those remarks, I was no threat.

"You... God, I was scared of you Y/N. You and your lovely young face, with your beautiful voice." He smiles, almost as though finally coming to a realization. I want to speak, but he continues.

"You came out of nowhere and took the world for a spin, I know you don't think you're very famous, but the entire world knows your name darling. You did that in such a small amount of time, I couldn't help but feel I would be forgotten. I know that it is a selfish thing to do, but I promise I'll make it right." I still feel unsure,

"How can I ever trust you, I admired you and you shoved that in my face." I back up and away from him, my arms wrapping around my body in search of both comfort and warmth.

"Well, I guess you'll only know if you give me the chance." His expression is so vulnerable and honest, his hair falling slightly into his face as he tilts his head down towards mine.

"Please, darling... Come with me, let me show you I'm not the awful prick you think I am." His surprisingly warm hands enclose around mine, their warmth causing the rest of my body to shiver, finally acknowledging the fact that we've been letting the rain drench our bodies for about 7 minutes now.

All I can do is nod my head as he brings an arm around my shoulders, quickly leading me back to the awaiting car. Helping me first before following after. I shiver weakly, David notices and has our driver turn the heat up, but we both know it'll do very little.

"Oh I'm sorry darling, let me take you back to mine and we'll get you a fresh change of clothes." I don't know why I'm suddenly so quiet, but all I can really do in response is nod my head. I take my wet hat off, tossing it down near my feet before once again wrapping my arms around myself.

———————

David Bowie's POV:

Oh, she looks so small all hunched over and wrapped in herself. I still feel guilty about what I'd said about her, I had no right making any of those claims, it was disgustingly immature what I did. All I know is that I need to make it up to her.

I must admit that I didn't expect to meet her today, I didn't even know she lived in New York.

"Do you live here Y/N? Maybe we could go to yours instead if you prefer?"

"No, I've been in a hotel, only got here 2 days ago and never made the effort to remember it's name." Ah, well, that's good to know. Looking back over to her I see her still shivering, clearly the heater is doing nothing for her. I shrug off my wet coat and shove it to the side before shifting closer to her and wrapping her up in my arms. Her body stiffens at the contact, but I can tell my body warmth is attractive to her from the way she pushes into me.

"Is this alright, love?" I don't know why I keep calling her these pet names, maybe it's because I like making her flustered. I feel her nod her head 'yes', I smile as I rest my head lightly atop hers. We stay like that until we stop in front of my hotel.

Grabbing my jacket I quickly wrap it around her small form, she opens her mouth to protest, but I silence her with my stern gaze. I swipe her hat from her hands and carefully place it atop her head, giving her a gentle smile before hopping out of the car helping her out.

We rush through the rain, laughing as we go, I hold the door open and usher her inside. We look so messy and out of place in this fancy hotel, but I ignore the looks we get, instead opting to gaze adoringly at this spit-fire of a woman I have on my arm. As we get in the elevator and wait for my floor she starts to shrug off my coat, but I quickly grab it and pull it back onto her shoulders.

"Don't, it looks better on you anyways." She drops her head down as she blushes, I can't believe I somehow got her to go from hating me to blushing at my compliments, all I know is that I want to compliment and make her blush for the rest of my life.

I step back from her as the elevator doors open, resting my hand on Y/N's back as I walk her in the direction of my room. The poor girl is still shivering, I hope she finds my clothes to be to her liking.

———————

Y/N's POV:

I'm still trying to wrap my head around how this man, this man who made me feel like absolute shit, now offers me his jacket and compliments that make my face blush a deep rose. I hope this is real, I don't think I can go back to hating him after all of this.

I'm dragged out of my thoughts by him gently pulling me into his room. Carefully slipping off the thick wet coat and hanging it up before turning back to me.

"Alright luv, I'll take you to my room and you can pick the clothes." His voice, God, his voice. I hate to admit it, but hearing his accent in-person just makes him even more attractive. All I can offer him is a gentle nod, his lips turning up into a sweet smile and he grabs my hand, leading me to his room. Opening the closet I see a wide array of clothes, ranging from incredibly posh to walk-out-of-bed to get a glass of milk clothes, I can't help but blush at the thought of him just lazily getting out of bed in the middle of the night for a midnight snack.

"What are you blushing at?" His tone is teasing as he gives me a humorous grin, his shoulder playfully bumping against my own. I can only shake my head in embarrassment as I glance away from him and back to the wardrobe.

"Oh, I can't pick... You choose." I suddenly state, backing up and softly pushing him forward. He seems generally surprised by what I say, but shakes it off as he now thinks about his new task. He rests against the wall and looks at me for a minute or so, just running his eyes across me in an oddly calculating way. He sharply turns away from me and starts rifling through his closet, searching for the perfect clothes, but suddenly stops and turns back to me.

"Don't you have an interview today?" My eyes widened in shock, how could I have forgotten. I glance towards the clock on his bedside table, my interview is in 30 minutes.

"It's in 30 minutes! What am I supposed to do?" I want to cry, this interview is very important publicity for my upcoming album. My eyes burn with tears of frustration, but I find myself distracted by the warm embrace of David, it's oddly comforting.

"Now don't you worry about the clothes, I'll pick something out while you go call your manager and get the address for your interview." He states, pulling back and looking at me reassuringly.

"What do you mean? My manager will never let me go on unless everything is perfect." I don't mean to argue, but I know my manager is a perfectionist, and will surely yell my ear off for putting myself in this position.

"Darling, either you go with what you have, or you miss the interview." I open my mouth in a weak attempt to argue, but I stop, knowing he's right. I nod my head and rush to the phone, hoping David chooses those clothes quickly.

I messily dial up my manager, and as soon as they pick up, I can sense their rush of concern.

"Honey where have you been? Your interview is in less than 30 minutes!" His usually calm tone is higher as he clearly has been worried about my whereabouts.

"I know I know, and I'm so sorry I didn't call sooner. I just... I was out, and people recognized m-" I get cut off before I can finish my sentence.

"They what! Did you take off your disguise?" He sounds so worried, I feel really guilty at making him feel this way, but I would rather I tell him than have him find out via the news.

"No, people saw through it!"

"Well, are you okay? I know how you get in crowds, did you make it out alright?" The worry and concern emanating through his voice lets me know he really wants to give me a hug, and he probably needs one too. I remember the fear and concern when he had to get me out of that London crowd, gosh he was more scared than I was.

"I'm surprisingly alright, but that's really only because I got saved." I say quietly, I leave out the fact that David Bowie saved me because I don't know how my manager will react. He was there with me when David said I was a whore to the press, so I'm not sure that he'll be as quick to forgive him as I was.

"Saved? By who?" His voice suddenly goes from concern to curiosity, oh I hope he doesn't scream when I bring David with me.

"I'll introduce you both at the interview... On that note, can you tell me the address, I promise I'll be there on time."

"Alright Y/N, just please stop giving me heart attacks." This last sentence is humorous, yet completely serious at the same time. I can hear the sincerity, and I hope that I never put him through this again.

"I promise nothing." I reply sassily, writing down the address he tells me. I turn and hurriedly walk back to David's room, accidentally running into him and falling back to the floor. I glance up in surprise as he does the same to me, I can't help but be taken back to the same scenario that happened earlier today.

"I think we've been here before darling." David laughs as I smile humorously at the situation. He offers his hand and pulls me up with a little too much strength, resulting in me falling against his chest. I can feel myself blush furiously as I go to push myself away from him, but find myself trapped by his arms encircling my waist.

He holds me there for a few moments before gently releasing me and motioning to the clothes on his bed. I don't even spare them a glance as I grab them and walk into the bathroom, changing swiftly before looking at myself in the mirror. I was in one of his blue dress shirts with some fancy brown shoes, and some straight legged ivory pants. Everything is big on me, and I feel overdressed, I usually don't care how I look, and dress in a t-shirt, jeans; but David really has me dressing up.

I hesitantly open the bathroom door with my eyes on the floor, hearing David hurriedly stand from his spot on the bed. We stand in silence for about a minute, and I go to shy away from him, but he steps forward and holds me in place.

"I look such a mess don't I? I-" I criticize my appearance, but he gently cuts me off.

"I like seeing you in my clothes." His voice is just above a whisper, and he sounds so attractively honest that I glance up from my shoes and to his face. I immediately notice that we are only a few inches away from one another, and I can't help but look away from him.

I turn back to say something when his hand suddenly reaches up to cup my face, instantly grabbing my attention. I look at him, noticing how adoringly he gazes into my eyes, and I can't help but close my eyes. His lips gently graze my own, he seems to hold back meeting me fully, assumingly afraid of how I react. To stop his assumptions I lean forward and meet his retreating form, himself immediately responding.

We pull back, and I shyly look to the side, seeing him smile in my peripheral vision as he leans down and softly kisses my cheek. My blush comes back with a vengeance, and I can hear him chuckle at the way I respond to him. We pull apart slightly, he offers me a warm smile before checking the time.

"Oh, we better get going, love. We have about 10 minutes to get there, and it's a 5 minute drive." I nod my head, allowing him to hold my hand as we walk out of his room.

———————

Arriving at the interview I wait in anxiousness as David walks around the car and opens the door for me, holding my hand delicately as we walk towards the building. We suddenly stop as he looks towards me and then himself, releasing my hand as he starts to take off his coat.

I go to object, but he pays it no mind, holding it out for me, and helping slip it on. I can't help but feel so in-love at the moment, and it's funny because he's the last person I thought would be treating me like this.

"You look good, I think I want to see you in my shirts more often." His voice is so charming and natural as the cheeky sentence slips out. He said it so normally, but he knows how it leaves me speechless, a smirk appearing on his handsome features as he leads me into the building.

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felixantares · 1 year ago

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Getting to know you tag game

omg thank you for the tags @luxuriousmalfoy @annanother-thing and @allalrightagain 😂💚

Three ships: oh dear, okay is this favourite ships? last ships read? just the first three that pop into my head? I haven't been reading a lot of HP fics recently, so my ships are all over the place at the moment. Recently it's been a lot of Xenk/Edgin from D&D: Honour Among Thieves, Astarion/Tav from Baldur's Gate 3, and Zuko/Katara from A:TLA. (I'm gonna cheat and also say Drarry, Jegulily, and Wolfstar for HP ships)

First ship: I don't think I remember what the first one I read was, but the first ship that really got its claws in me was Merthur. I hadn't been super into fanfic before that and I think someone I was following linked a fanart that was based on a fic, so I clicked on the link and I was lost forever lol

Last song: I opened spotify and it's telling me Curses by The Crane Wives, but really i had like 6 of their songs on loop for a few hours earlier today when I was doing D&D session prep

Last movie: uhhhhh I honestly can't remember. Probably something with my roommate? It might've been D&D:HAT actually, now that I think about it, we mostly watch shows/youtube not a lot of movies.

Currently reading: Does Mordenkainen Monsters of the Multiverse count? if so, that. if not I've got 19 BG3 fics open on my phone rn, but I haven't started any of them

Currently watching: My roommate's watching a Drawfee episode so I'm like half watching that as I answer this haha

Last thing I wrote: That would be chapter 1 of a sign in the midnight sky!

Currently writing: not much of anything, bg3 has consumed my entire life, but in the brief moments of clarity (usually when I'm forcibly separated from the playstation by work) chapter 2 of Shrines

tagging: uhhhh no one, I'm fairly sure every single one of my mutuals has done this already bc I'm late to the party, but if you see this and haven't done it, then consider this my open invitation haha

#felix talks #tag game

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hotarutranslations · 8 months ago

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Tonight, #Mo-Jo, Tomorrow #NamaTake

Evening

Tomorrow, the 24th (Sun) 12:00PM~

"HinaFest 2024" Before Special ~NamaTake Member Great Gathering 2 Hour SP~

Is Airing📺💫

Please definitellyyyyy watch! Since it made me laugh a lot!

To those that are like, its difficult~ I don't have time~ I think I've done my best to make it something you'll want to watch! Since I laughed a ton!

By all means!

Please watch!

Together with Dojima-san, I'm happy they were in the announcement comment😂 lol

🕊️←definitely look

Osaka performance first day!

Thank you very much!

I won't say anything but, With the evening performance,

Round and round 🌀stab☝️ stab ☝️(TL note: I am not sure if this is correct lol)

it was fun, and funny~~~

There are various things to enjoy in a performance🏅

Today in the afternoon, One one side, there was the momentum of lets go lets go--, I could get the reaction I wanted from the big answer, I completely messed up 😎lol

First off for tomorrow as well, It'll be a performance on like it in Osaka!

Lets look forward---!

I actually thought I already wrote a blog!

Again, thank you!

Also, in yesterdays blog,

I had writen "a different path" but,

With a different path, I'm talking about a different path in Morning Musume, Not an entirely different path!

I tlak about it in the Tokyo Sports interview but,

here

I was only thinking of this so😂💫

I was only thinking of writing this earlier!

Tonight is, Morning Musume '24's Morning Jogakuin ~Houkago Meeting~

Is airing

Ishida, Makino Maria, and Sakurai Rio are in attendance

🩵🎫e+ 🩵🎫TicketPia

Also the finale has been decided

May 27th (Mon) Nippon Budoukan .🌏👏🏻

The Ticket FC Advance Reception is undergoing! I'm looking forward to being able to meet!

📺Hello Pro Dance Gakuen Season 11

April 18th 11:30PM~ A Learning From TSUKUSHI-san Adventure🕺

In season 10 we challenged breakin', its reairing continuously! On the 15th, 17th, 19th, 20th, 21st, 22nd, #1~#6 all at once! Check out HP for info!

Sendai Broadcast "Ara Ara Kashiko" Every week (Sat) 10:25AM~ Ishida Ayumi Goes~!

I appear once a month as part of the AraKashi Family

The previous shows, and makings, are on OX VIDEO STORE!

Also on YouTube

Sendai Broadcast Ara Ara Kashiko

📺"HinaFest 2024" Before Special ~NamaTake Member Great Gathering 2 Hour SP~

CS TV Asa Channel March 24th (Sun) 12:00PM~

Thank you for following.. Instagram💙🩵

✍🏻Tokyo Sports note Series I'll tell you more about the 13 in Morning Musume '24

Announcement of Series Graduation in March

🪩Spring Tour Has Been Decided Morning Musume '24 Concert Tour Spring MOTTO MORNING MUSUME

We'll be going around the country from March 16th!

🪩HinaFest March 30th and 31st at Makuhari Messe

🪩JAPAN JAM Morning Musume '24 will be performing on May 3rd!

⚾️《LIVE DAYS！～Exciting Big Exhibition Match～》 June 2nd(Sun), after the Hokkaido Ham Fighters vs. Yokohama DeNa Baystars match, Morning Musume '24 will be having a special mini live!

.👗�� Aoyama Clothing x Morning Musume '24

📻Morning Musume '24 Morning Jogakuin ~Houkago Meeting~

Airs Every Saturday, On Radio Nihon at 12:00AM~

Past Broadcast Episodes Are Available →Program Details

Yamazaki Mei's Panda-san Daisuki!! ~Expressing Love Towards My Favorite Panda-san♡ ver.~ in Adventure World

Yamazaki Mei's Panda-san Daisuki!! Mei-chan's Holiday. Adventure World with Oda-san and Ishida-san

see you ayumin <3

#Ishida Ayumi #Morning Musume '24 #Morning Musume #Takeuchi Akari #Hashisako Rin #Kishimoto Yumeno #Hello! Project #Translation #Blog

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mariska · 2 years ago

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had a horrible sickness & chronic autoimmune disease symptom flareup combo hit me really hard last night at a time thats a few hours earlier than when my hyperactive brain is used to taking my nighttime meds and getting ready to try and sleep but one of my moms found me literally like rotting away in physical distress on my recliner in the living room and made me some rly good tomato soup and grilled cheese and encouraged me to take my sleepy meds early and go try to get some rest and i am very glad that she did cuz even though my brain/body was still definitely restless and i didnt sleep entirely through the night, i managed to get a decent amount of rest from like 9 pm to 7 am (i had apparently forgotten to set my alarm too so thank fuck my body just Woke Up then and not like. 2:30 pm like it usually does when i mess up with my alarm clock lmfao 😭) so!! that felt like a promising start to the day at least and i've been in desperate need of having a day that feels hopeful at all in any regard after waking up so i will take that little victory gladly 🥺✌️if im able to gather up the physical & mental energy for it i wanna try to do some dungeons & dragons related art/design for stuff having to do with my character Sludge i play as in the group im a part of since our next session gathering is a week from today and we all leveled up at the end of the last session. Sludge has been evolving in very fun and cool ways as a character too btw she is for sure a new All Time Fav oc of mine amongst the ranks of Lifelong Self-Insert OC Paige Bond™️ at this point bfshhhshssgsbf <3 i wrote down this whole backstory skeleton in my phone notes of general concepts and ideas about where she grew up and what her pre-dnd campaign life was like that resulted in me making a whole new note page of characters and concepts and plots for the actual location she's from which has been such a blast to imagine and slowly piece things together like a big ol puzzle so i would love to turn all of that into actual short stories with illustrations and stuff sometime soon too.....ANYWAYS!! to quote 90's jeff goldblum life uhhhh........finds a way

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darks-ink · 6 years ago

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Unveiled

Prompt: Jack was just trying to plan a surprise for his good ol' friend Vladdy. He...did not expect to discover a secret lab in Vlad's mansion--or a second portal or weaponry to rival theirs or-- Was that a hologram of his wife? Prompt by: @ladylynse Word count: 3,836

[AO3][FFnet][more Phic Phight fics]

The door creaked as Jack opened it, arms full with birthday decorations. He kicked it closed behind him, the key already put into a pocket in his jumpsuit. Sure, Vlad might not have handed it to him, but the man hadn’t changed in the years since they had met. He still hid it exactly where Jack would’ve expected him to.

Which was useful, because now Jack could decorate the mansion for the surprise birthday party he was going to throw for his best friend! He knew for a fact that Vlad would be out for several hours – mayoral duties and all that. And while he normally did his best to attend… This was a golden opportunity. He was sure that Vlad would forgive his absence once he saw the party.

He dumped his armful of decorations (carefully) in the entry hall. It would be the most convenient place to access it – he could return to this spot and decorate the separate wings of the mansion. Pleased with this plan, Jack picked up some of his goods and set off.

A few hours of decorating later, Jack had reached a cozy-looking study. He was just hanging up some flags when he accidentally knocked over a small statue. Worried that he had broken one of Vlad’s precious items, he approached to inspect it.

And then, with a grinding noise, the wall behind the statue started to open. Jack paused, watching how the wall opened into… a staircase?

Curiosity peaked, Jack crept closer. Why would Vlad have a hidden staircase like this? But just imagine what kind of cool things could be hidden down there?

He eagerly bustled down the stairs, and ended up in an enormous lab. It was much more neatly organized than theirs – a clear sign that Vlad was in control of this one.

Jack had to admit that he was a little confused by the fact that it was hidden. As exciting as this discovery was – his best friend was still into (ghost) science! – he didn’t understand why Vlad had kept it a secret. Why hadn’t he mentioned it to his friends? To him or Maddie?

Were mayors not allowed to have interests like these? Or was it something to do with his image, as mayor or as billionaire? Jack knew that the town tended to look askew to him and his wife because of their interest. Did Vlad hide it because of that? Was he afraid of being scorned like that?

He walked further into the lab, curious to see what Vlad worked on. What kind of inventions had he stowed down here? Could they work together, perhaps? Secretly, so he didn’t have to worry about his reputation?

Now that Jack was away from the staircase, he could see the entire lab. It was far larger than the one underneath FentonWorks. Not entirely surprising, that was.

What was surprising was the invention set in the back wall. It was a familiar sight. A giant metal arch, the insides filled with swirling green; a Ghost Portal. Set in the steel beside it was an Ecto-Filtrator. It… was the exact same as their Ecto-Filtrator.

And, sure. Maybe Vlad had based it on the old design for the Proto-Portal they had made back in college. But the one he and his wife had built for the new Portal was entirely different in design. And somehow, Vlad had made his exactly like theirs. How? He shouldn’t have had access to the blueprints. Right?

All along the walls, carefully stored and labeled, was ecto-weaponry. Jack would’ve been excited about that, except that these seemed to be very much like the FentonWorks weaponry as well. The designs seemed eerily similar. Most guns could’ve been theirs, except that they were detailed with red instead of green. Seemed to be powered by pink ectoplasm instead of the green they used.

Was this why Vlad had hidden his lab? Because he borrowed their designs – Jack didn’t want to think of it as stealing, because surely his best friend didn’t so such things – and didn’t want them to know? Didn’t Vlad realize that they would’ve forgiven him for such a thing? If he had asked, Jack would’ve gladly shared the blueprints, even!

Everything in the lab seemed to be directly inspired from the FentonWorks lab, except bigger and more expensive. Everything, except for the giant machines in the back.

They resembled enormous pods – and Jack had no idea what they could’ve been for. They weren’t connected to anything, and were littered with shattered glass and broken machinery and snapped cables. They were clearly salvaged from somewhere, but from where and why, he didn’t know. Was Vlad researching the machines for something? And if so, for what?

In his curiosity, his feet had been carrying him ever closer without him noticing. Apparently he passed too close by the main computer, because it turned on. Startled by the sudden activation, Jack backed away a step or two.

And in the empty space he had just cleared, a hologram appeared. See-through and glitchy along the edges, but still clearly recognizable. The auburn hair and violet eyes were a clear giveaway – as was the teal jumpsuit.

Vlad had a hologram made to resemble Maddie. Jack’s wife. What the hell?

“Hello darling,” the fake Maddie said, her voice so staticky that it was barely recognizable as Maddie’s. “How can I help you today?”

“Go away,” he commanded, disgusted and confused and so many other emotions that he couldn’t discern. “Leave me alone.”

“Of course sweetcheeks,” the hologram replied, before flickering out of sight. Jack sighed, relieved, and sank down into the chair sitting in front of the computer. Maybe… maybe he should take a look. Something was going on here.

The cool hidden underground lab suddenly wasn’t as exciting anymore.

On the computer, the files were neatly organized. Another sign that good old Vladdie hadn’t changed as much as one might think. Unfortunately, this didn’t make the information presented to Jack make any more sense.

A bunch of files were dedicated to Maddie. And another few specifically to the AI version of Maddie he had seen just now – which implied that most of the files were about the real Maddie. Jack briefly wondered what on Earth his friend could’ve hidden in these – but he skipped past them, nonetheless.

Disgust curled in his stomach. Maybe Vlad wasn’t the friend Jack thought he was. To him, or to Maddie.

There are also a lot of files about Phantom. These, at least, should be safe for Jack to explore. The ghost was an interesting one, after all. And had no link to him or his family, besides the fact that they hunted it.

Initially, the files make perfect sense. They were studies – far more in-depth than anything Jack and his wife had ever managed. Phantom was notoriously elusive, and he wondered how Vlad might’ve acquired the more advanced data.

Phantom’s power levels, its abilities and skills, weaknesses and strengths. These were all perfectly normal – they kept the same things logged. The ghost was a powerful one, and knowing one’s prey was important for hunters. And while Vlad wasn’t a hunter, he might’ve been compiling the information for other hunters to use.

More curious were the anatomical pointers. Some of the notes were fine – location and strength of the core, ectoplasm density, such things – but others… were not. Skeletal structure, which ghosts shouldn’t have, and even organs? Was Vlad somehow ahead of them in research?

Jack did seriously wonder how Vlad had acquired all this information, then. He wasn’t a hunter – and he certainly couldn’t have caught Phantom. Right?

More curiously, however, was that he kept referring to the ghost as ‘Daniel’ instead of Phantom. This, Jack definitely didn’t get.

Until he reached the part of the file dedicated to Phantom’s origin.

From the start, it was a confusing mess of data. It listed all kinds of information about Phantom which Jack couldn’t fathom Vlad accessing – and which he highly doubted were true. Additionally, it was all presented in a way which made it seem all the more sketchy.

Even the first note, cause of death, was highly dubious. “Electrocution via Ghost Portal,” it stated, which was clear enough – if a little worrying, because it meant that not only was someone trying to mimic their grand invention, they had gotten a kid killed in the process. More confusingly, however, the sentence didn’t end there. No, instead, “much like myself” was tacked on. Like Vlad himself had died – or like the files had come from a ghost.

Jack wasn’t sure which was better. He ignored it in favor of reading on, hoping to find less confusing information.

Apparently Phantom had only become a ghost a year or two ago. By the time they first encountered him, he would’ve been barely formed. Supposedly, he had formed immediately upon death – he had died early August that year.

Instead of getting hung up on this, Jack’s eye caught on the details on the ghost’s identity. Because there, in plain text, it read, “Daniel Fenton”. Like his son had died two years ago, and had somehow become Phantom. As if he wouldn’t have noticed if his own son had died!

But the file provided picture proof as well. A lot of picture proof. Comparative photos between Danny and Phantom, taken at regular intervals. They did look like perfect mirror images – identical copies, if one ignored the difference in hair and eye color. In the pictures, one could even see them growing up in perfect sync.

And the file continued on. It listed Phantom (Danny?) as a halfa – a half-ghost. A special type of ghost caught in the split between life and death. Not entirely a ghost, but not quite human either.

It was… It was all too much. None of this could be true. Jack refused to believe it.

Something… Something must be wrong with Vlad – clearly had been for a while. He was sorry that he hadn’t noticed it before, but for now the best would be to help. He didn’t know what had caused it, or how to fix it, but he owed it to his friend. All these files were a clear sign of some mental problem – Jazz’s constant rants about psychology had taught him that much, at least.

Because, as convincing as all this was… As much as all of it held up to Vlad’s old standards, rigorously collected and sorted information…

Danny could not be Phantom. It was impossible. No matter how similar their appearances were, it simply wasn’t physically possible for one to be both ghost and human at the same time.

Still, morbid curiosity drove him to scroll just that little bit further down.

Logs. So many logs. Detailed breakdowns of Danny’s DNA – or parts of it, at least. Some clearly human. Other bits seemed otherworldly – tainted by ectoplasm, or so the file said.

More concerning, however, were the carefully kept notes on the various clones that Vlad had made. Of Danny – or Phantom, that wasn’t entirely clear. Maybe a mixture of both, which would’ve explained his faulty belief that the two were one and the same.

Jack would’ve considered that the reason why they were all listed as destabilized. All had broken down over their contrary existence – an existence not physically possible.

Except that, apparently, a single clone had survived. Slightly younger than Danny, and female. There was no name listed for her – just like there had been no names for the others. And somehow, she had survived.

Jack would’ve scoffed, laughed it off… but there were, once again, photos. Of a girl who looked so much like Danny that it was scary. And of a girl who looked just like Phantom, but younger. Different in the same way she was different from Danny.

And a video, which showed her shifting from one into the other in a sharp burst of light. Bright rings which swept away one girl and replaced her with the other.

So maybe there was some sort of truth to Danny being Phantom. Or Vlad had become incredibly competent with video editing – which Jack highly doubted. If he had gone this crazy, surely he couldn’t fake such convincing footage?

More concerning, however, was what Vlad apparently thought of this clone. She was the only survivor of an act he shouldn’t have tried – creating new life was morally wrong, and he highly doubted that either his son or Phantom (or were they one and the same?) had consented to it.

But Vlad seemed intent on figuring out why this one clone had survived. And to do so, he wanted to catch her.

He wanted to kill her, just to find out why she hadn’t died sooner.

It was… It was disgusting. No matter what had gone wrong with Vlad, no matter how much of this was real or fake or imagined – the intent was still there. Even if the girl– ghost– halfa wasn’t real, Vlad still wanted to kill her. Wanted to kill a living being he had created, because of what? Because she wasn’t a perfect copy of Danny? Because she had somehow survived when his ‘good’ clones hadn’t?

Why did he even want to clone Danny? Phantom or not, what could Vlad possibly achieve from having a clone of Jack’s son?

He didn’t know what to think. He didn’t know what the truth was – behind Phantom, behind Vlad, behind the lab and all its contents and–

Pushing himself away from the desk, Jack stood up. He wanted to get away from it all. Wanted to deny it – but at the same time, he wanted to help. Wanted to figure it out.

He didn’t know how long he stood there, intending to leave, trying to decide what to do–

A sound like shattering glass snapped him out of his reverie. He whipped around to see Phantom – the ghost was hovering next to one of the tables in the lab. Its – his – eyes were wide with shock. At his feet laid broken glass, like he had accidentally knocked a beaker over.

“D– Jack,” he said. Now that Jack was listening for it, he could clearly hear the hesitation, the correction. Phantom had been about to call him Dad.

God, this really was his son. Or derived from him somehow, but… that didn’t seem right. His gut said that the first was correct – and Vlad’s files seemed to imply the same.

“Danny,” he greeted back. Phantom – Danny – seemed confused by the words. And, perhaps, also by his non-violent approach. And how sad was that, that his own son looked at him with genuine fear?

He took his eyes off of the ghost of his son. Or half-ghost, if Vlad’s notes were to be believed. He doesn’t know anymore. Some of them seemed to be right, but others… they were too disgusting and scary to imagine.

“What are you doing here?” Danny asked him, cautiously. Jack continued to look around the lab, eyes roving over the entire room. Scanning it for any signs of the horrible things Vlad might’ve done. The ways he might’ve hurt Jack’s son.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he countered, shooting Danny a glance over his shoulder. The half-ghost fidgeted, unsure.

Then Jack’s eyes land on the broken down pods. Knowing what he did now, he could figure out what they were for. Cloning pods. One used to grow the clones – there had surely been more, but only one had been brought here by Vlad.

The other had been used to torture Danny, to somehow obtain the missing DNA samples.

And now that he had started thinking about it, he couldn’t help but worry… What had happened to the female clone? Because if Vlad was right about Danny being Phantom, and the pods were real enough… did that mean that the girl was also real?

Did Jack have a daughter out there, illegally cloned from his son? A baby girl, who had grown up in a lab without a name, watching her siblings melt and die?

“Is she safe?” he burst out, startling Danny – and himself, a little.

The sudden question seemed to confuse the half-ghost, since he frowned at Jack. “Who?”

“The female clone.” He turned to face his son properly. “The notes said that Vlad tried to hurt her, melt her down. What happened to her? Is she safe?”

“Oh, uh. I stabilized her fully, and then she left to travel the world.” Then the ghost fidgeted even more, slowly approaching him. “What, um. What else did the notes say?”

“A lot.” Jack scratched his cheek, offering a hopefully soothing smile. “Most of them bad things. Terrible things that Vlad has done, or wanted to do. He has a hologram of Maddie, can you believe that? Your mother!”

Danny stiffened, eyes widening even further. The glow from his green eyes cast flickering lights on the shiny surfaces of the lab. For once, Phantom’s eyes seemed kind and lively – Jack wondered how he had never noticed it before.

“You know?” he stuttered, looking at Jack. “And you… don’t mind?”

“Of course not,” he soothed, stepping closer to his son. He went slow, careful not to startle the boy. “You’re my son, Danny. Ghost, boy, or something in-between.”

Then suddenly Danny launched himself at Jack. Chilly cold arms wrapped around him, and in turn his big arms folded around his son. His son, who fit into his arms like he had always done.

A scoff interrupted the moment before they could truly cherish it. They broke apart to see the villainous Wisconsin Ghost hovering in the lab, in front of the Portal. Its arms were crossed, red eyes empty yet somehow still conveying a glare.

“Vlad,” Danny snapped at the ghost, and suddenly all the dots connected for Jack. This was his best friend?

But it made perfect sense. If Vlad’s files were to be believed, Danny had become a halfa thanks to his accident with the Ghost Portal. Vlad, too, had had an accident with a Portal – even if his had been the Proto-Portal. The larger amount of ectoplasm must account for the sickness, for the more… ghostly appearance.

And it explained Vlad’s behavior. The ectoplasm made him more volatile, more ghostly. It must’ve brought down hell upon his mind – and that was without the outside influence of people hating ghosts. It didn’t excuse his behavior, but, well. If they knew the problem, they could help Vlad. Could fix this – could fix him.

He realized that he had missed part of the conversation between Vlad and Danny. But it was impossible to miss the impending fight between the two, so he stepped forward to break it up.

“Wait,” Jack said, holding up his hands. And miraculously, both half-ghosts halted. He turned to face Vlad – his best friend, whom he had hurt beyond words.

“Vlad. I’m… I’m so sorry for what I’ve done to you.” He saw Vlad’s eyes widen, but he wasn’t sure with what emotion. His face was surprisingly hard to read like this. “I’m sorry for the accident with the Portal, and I’m sorry for unintentionally threatening you with my hatred of ghosts. I’m sorry for all the time we – I – made you feel unsafe, or unwelcome, or hated because of something you can’t control.”

Then his eyes hardened, and he made sure to keep his eyes locked with his best friend – or the man that once was his best friend. “But that doesn’t excuse anything you have done. It doesn’t excuse what you’ve done to me, or to my family. It doesn’t excuse what you continue to do.”

Vlad snarled in response, baring his pointed fangs. “What makes you think that I care at all about what you think of me!” Pink ectoplasm sparked around his hands, forming into coiling clouds of active ectoplasm. “What makes you think that I care about your opinion?!”

The ghost shot off, launching himself at Jack with startling speeds. He flinched back a step, throwing up his arms in a feeble attempt to defend himself–

But Danny collided with Vlad before the man reached him, and he was thrown into a wall instead. A fight broke out between the two half-ghosts, Vlad immediately ignoring Jack in favor of the bigger threat.

It made feel Jack feel sick, but he didn’t focus on it. He might not have brought any weaponry, but he didn't need to – the lab was well-stocked with ecto-weaponry. And as much as he hated their similarity with the FentonWorks weapons, it was a boon for the moment. They all seemed to work exactly like the guns he was used to.

His eye caught on Vlad as he charged another ball of volatile ectoplasm. Below him, Danny was picking himself off of the floor. He was unable to defend himself.

Jack blindly reached for a weapon, aimed, and shot.

The explosion blew Vlad back, and his attack dissipated. He hit the wall with a dull thud, head banging against it. Then he collapsed on the floor, his head bent down. A black ring formed around his waist, then split in two and swept over him.

Vlad Masters remained where the Wisconsin Ghost had sat, moments before. A perfect mimicry of the transformation Jack had seen on the screen, an eternity ago.

He stepped closer, bending down over his former best friend. Danny, who had finally picked himself off of the ground, hovered close to him.

“Don’t hurt my son,” he hissed, inches away from Vlad’s face.

“Stay away from my family,” he warned. “From me, from my wife. From my beautiful daughter Jazz and my wonderful son Danny. And from my newest daughter,” he paused, scrambling for a name.

Quietly, Danny added, “Danielle.” Jack didn’t question the name – he trusted his son’s judgment.

“And from my newest daughter, Danielle, whom I haven’t met yet but who I will protect anyway.”

His enormous hands curled around Vlad’s shoulders as he shook the man, driving the point home. “And if you even dare to hurt any of them, I will make the remainder of your life hell. Remember that, Vlad Masters.”

Then he straightened up, nodding once at Danny. The boys eyes flitted between him and Vlad, uncertain.

Jack strode towards the staircase. After a short moment of hesitation, Danny followed him.

“So,” Jack said as they climbed the stairs. Or as he climbed the stairs while Danny floated over them. “Do you have any way of contacting this Danielle?”

Danny remained silent for a moment longer. Then, quietly, he asked, “Why?”

Shooting him a grin, Jack offered, “Well, she’s a Fenton. And us Fentons, we stick together. No matter what.”

#phic phight #phic phight 19 #danny phantom #jack fenton #vlad plasmius #vlad masters #danny fenton #dp fanfic #dp fanfiction #phanfic #phanfiction #dark writes #realized that i was running out of month and i had only written 1 out of 3 prompts i really wanted to do #so i slapped down the planning for this a day or so ago #and then wrote the entire thing in like 3 hours earlier today

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elisaintime · 3 years ago

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Anne Rice is the closest thing I've ever had to a hero. She was an absolute virtuoso. It wasn't just that her work impacted my formative years, but thinking and talking about her as a person is still a part of my daily life right now. I sank hard into fandom as a pandemic coping strategy last year, and have been there ever since. I spend hours a day in Anne Rice fan spaces, discussing her and her work with other fans. I am fascinated by how her mind works. I have all her books saved to my phone so that I can search through them for key words at a moment's notice, and people come to me all the time to answer their questions about canon details. I once cosplayed as her for a Come As Your Favorite Author costume party. I have a google doc where I’ve been saving my favorite quotes from her interviews and ramblings, and it's over 10,000 words long. I keep meaning to make a video out of it one of these days. Last year, I wrote the script for a video on PBS’s web channel all about her industry-changing literary career and also made a totally gratuitous video for my own channel where I ranked all her vampire books. This year, I posted more than 2.5 million words of VC fanfic to ao3, and since last year, I’ve reread 12 of her books in audiobook format for the first time since reading them in print in my youth. She used to be extremely active on social media, engaging with us one-on-one all hours of the day and night. Whenever I sent her an email, she answered me graciously within 24 hours. After her controversial earlier years, she’d mellowed out into such a sweet and gracious old lady, so friendly and eager to support her fans and uplift anyone she could. But a couple years ago, she kind of disappeared from public forums and stopped talking to us except for the rare tweet here or there about what TV show she was currently obsessed with. I feared the worst, that something had happened to her and she was in her decline, and I had been waiting every day for news that her end had come. Very recently, her social media team started asking fans to send pictures of their memories of meeting her at signings, and I knew something had to have happened. I would have sent them these two pictures, but it felt like bad luck somehow, admitting it was real. Because of this, her death doesn't come as a shock today, but it is still devastating. In 2013, she watched one of my Vampire Reviews videos and loved it enough to share it with her fans on social media. She called me "very smart and funny," and it was the greatest professional compliment I've ever received in my life. A year later, I got the chance to meet her at the signing in NYC for Prince Lestat. It was so empowering to be in the audience at that signing and listen to all the testimonials of people standing up to share how her work had given them the courage to embrace their queer identities. I wasn't brave enough to say so, but she'd been my queer awakening as well, and I met my first serious girlfriend through the fandom. The way she addresses gender and sexuality in her work has spoken to me more acutely than anything else I've ever seen. I had my 3 month old baby with me, and we waited for hours for a few moments of her time, but when we got close enough, they noticed us and let us cut to the front. She was absolutely enthralled with Grey and spent at least double the time she did with anyone else, just cooing at him. She jokingly threatened to steal him, and I wished she'd take us both! A few years later, when her personal assistant resigned and she was searching for a new one, you don't know how close I was to applying for that job (which I would have been amazing at), seriously entertaining the dream of uprooting my entire life and moving my family across the country just to work for her. Two days after the book signing, I went to New Orleans for my very first Vampire Ball, where I had the chance to sit and talk with her for a few more minutes. It wasn't long, but it meant the world to me. I always hoped I'd get another chance one day. A couple months ago, I finally read her book, Violin, which I'd tried to read years ago, but put down halfway through. The book is one long magnificent sob of grief and mourning, and it feels more autobiographical than any of her other works. It feels nearly voyeuristic to read about pain so obviously personal to her real life in the deaths of her daughter and mother and her other tumultuous family relationships, but it helped me understand her heart and soul in a whole new way I had not quite grasped in my 23 prior years of fandom. When talking about her own grief, Anne once said, "The lights do come back on, no matter how dark it seems, and I'm sensitive now, more than ever, to the beauty of the world – and more resigned to living with cosmic uncertainty." She is with Stan and Michele now. Let’s all lie on the floor and listen to Beethoven in her honor.

#Anne Rice

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kung-laos-hat · 4 years ago

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Kiss Me

Kung Lao x Fem!Reader

AN: Kung Lao, my beloved. Wrote this while listening to Kiss Me More by Doja Cat ft. SZA, banger song. Not proof read yet‼️

Summary: Who doesn’t like when a little friendly rivalry turns into something more?

“You ready to meet your match this time?” Kung Lao chuckled, adjusting his footing and placing a hand on the tip of his hat.

“Course’ I am Lao,” (Y/n) huffed, getting into position, “When they get here make sure to let me know, yeah?”

This had become a daily occurrence. After dinner time, when lessons and training were done for the evening, the three of them would return to the court and cash in on a little sparring. It was their odd way of spending time together outside of missions, plus with the grand tournament coming up, they could use the extra practice.

Usually they had a rotation system that went Liu versus (Y/n), then (Y/n) versus Lao, then Liu versus Lao. They would rest a little after each match, then continue on per usual. However today’s session was going a little different.

Yesterday, (Y/n) had won against Lao and was so proud of her achievement she couldn’t help but rub it in, and Lao, being the prideful young man he was, demanded a rematch. He claimed the mission he’d gone on earlier that day had screwed him over physically. (Y/n) agreed to it, and now here they were.

“3...2...1... fight!” Liu Kang called out from the top on the stairs leading into the main hallway. As the pair lunged at each other, causing reddish brown puffs of dirt to fly off of the ground, he calmly sat and observed.

Minutes passed, and neither party seemed to have even made a scratch on the other. However, an impressive amount of blocking was being done by Kung Lao currently, so Liu assumed the victory would go to (Y/n). The girl had a giddy smile plastered across her face, and it seemed like she, too, expected the victory to be hers.

Liu turned to the side and reached for his water, but noticed he hadn’t brought any with him. He sighed and stood up.

“I’m going to fetch some water from the kitchen. Continue on, but please don’t wreck anything or kill each other. Master will have a fit and then I’ll receive part of the blame for not monitoring you two properly.” Liu said.

“Expect to come back to my—,” (Y/n) began before dodging a kick, “Another one of my victories!”

“Fat chance!”

Previous to all of this, the two friends already had some sort of tension between them. It started off as a friendly rivalry, competing for trifling things such as the last egg roll or using the bathroom first in the morning. But as the years passed, the competitons began to become more... personal. And so did the bickering. Somehow (Y/n) and Lao shifted from “if you don’t shut up I’m gonna kick your ass” to “if you don’t shut up, I’m gonna make you.”

Nevertheless, the three of them quite enjoyed their dynamic (despite Liu Kang shooting knowing looks at the two individually).

Now (Y/n) had Kung Lao backed into a corner with her (weapon/power) held against his neck. Lao strained his neck upwards, his left arm holding his hat behind his back.

“That was the saddest block I’ve seen all day, Lao. Do you yield yet?” (Y/n) smirked triumphantly.

He glanced down at her and huffed. “Watch your tongue, (Y/n).”

He swiftly slid his foot under her, knocking her off her feet, and brought his hat back up to his head before disappearing into the ground. He reappeared behind her and attempted to pin her to the ground, but she jumped up and tackled the boy, landing with her legs straddling Lao’s right one and her hand on his chest.

“You’re so predictable these days,” (Y/n) laughed.

Lao propped himself up on his elbows, “You’re only saying that because you’ve gotten used to my moves.”

“Maybe you should take some time away from me,” (Y/n) jeered, “Y’know, and learn some better ones.”

Lao furrowed his eyebrows, “God, if you don’t stop flapping your mouth—,”

“You’re trapped under me, what are you gonna do? Kiss me?” She laughed.

Lao brought his leg up and forcefully kicked her off, sending her tumbling across the court. (Y/n) jumped onto her feet, narrowly avoiding hitting the wall.

“If you keep that up I just might.” Lao teased.

“You wouldn’t have the nerve,” (Y/n) lunged at him again.

Lao used his hat to block her attack and landed a solid kick to her side. “Is that a challenge?”

God, every word that came out of the girl’s mouth was beginning to get him fired up. He could feel his chest begin to tingle with a mix of excitement and anxiety. What if (Y/n) genuinely wanted to kiss him? If he tried, would she pull away? Kung Lao had always been the bolder of the two, but still.

Kung Lao charged at her and grabbing her hands, holding them behind her back with one hand before she could fully regain her footing. With his other hand he grasped the collar of her top and pulling her closer to his body. (Y/n) was paralyzed by this sudden action and her breath hitched. She looked up at Lao with uncertainty, the color of her cheeks turning redder than the fabric Liu Kang tied around his head.

Lao’s hand trailed up to her face, holding the side of her jaw with his pointer and middle finger while his thumb traced circles over her lower lip. Lao was looking directly into her eyes now.

“Just say the word and I will, (Y/n).” His tone was quieter and more serious than ever before.

(Y/n)’s mouth quivered. It felt like her brain had entirely blanked and she couldn’t find anything clever to respond with.

“I— I... I yield!” She cried, quickly pulling away in embarrassment.

(Y/n) ran up the stairs just as Liu Kang returned. She nodded to him in acknowledgment, but continued to rush off to her room.

Liu stopped and glanced from her retreating figure to his cousin who stood along in the court.

“So... who won?” He cocked an eyebrow in confusion. Kung Lao buried his face in his hands.

———

The next couple of days seemed incredibly off to everyone. (Y/n) went out of her way to avoid interacting with Kung Lao, and vice versa. Lao’s thoughts were just too jumbled for him to approach her, no matter how much he wanted a confirmation on whether she felt the same or not, and (Y/n) was having a difficult time making sense of Lao’s actions.

What would happen if they did like each other? Although at this point, neither of them were sure if “like” was the correct term to use. (Y/n) was certain up until then that Kung Lao had meant everything was a joke and simply took this one a little too far. The insults, the flirting, all of it had been a joke, right? That was their silent agreement. Lao would never do anything with the intention of... well... getting to (Y/n), per say. Their intentions with eachother had always been purely platonic.

But was that really the truth in (Y/n)’s case? Or had she been ignorant to her own feelings towards the boy all along? Is that why she couldn’t stand to look him in the eye now? What if she really was in—

“(Y/n)! Master wants me to accompany him somewhere, so I can’t make it tonight.” Liu called out as he jogged to catch up with the girl.

She blinked, “Oh, it’s alright Liu, we can reschedule for another night then.”

He stretched his arms over his head. “Why don’t you use the time to catch up with Kung Lao? It seems like you two hardly got to spend time together this week.”

(Y/n) blushed and began to shift her feet uncomformably, “Lao and I— we’re- I haven’t...” She sighed, “I’m not exactly in the mood to talk to him any time soon.”

Liu frowned, “It isn’t my place to speak in the matter, and I’m not sure what went down between you two, but If Lao said something I’m sure he didn’t mean it.”

The girl groaned and leaned her head back. “That’s what I’m afraid of...” She mumbled.

Liu placed a hand on her head and ruffled her hair, then placed both of his hands on her shoulders.

“You’re a smart girl, I’m sure you two will be back on track eventually. Remember: a little communication goes a long way.”

She nodded, “You’re right, I know. I’ll try to sort it out.”

___

Now, Kung Lao was completely crumbling over why (Y/n) had pushed him away. He believed that (Y/n) felt something for him, he was sure of it, and he’d been searching for an opportunity to pursue her for months. So when she jokingly asked if he would kiss her, how could he have resisted?

It was an impulsive decision, he admitted, but he was so sure she felt the same that he thought it didn’t matter. Maybe he should have been more forward and confessed his feelings for her in a different setting.

Buuuuut it was too late now. He blew it. And now she was avoiding him. He was a fool to assume such things about her.

Lao signed and threw himself done on his bed, sprawling his arms and legs out dramatically.

“Cousin? I’m heading out soon, I came to say goodbye—,” Liu’s voice faltered when he saw the state of his friend. He stifled a laugh. “Y’know, if you if this is effecting you so badly, why not just apologize and talk to her?”

Lao’s head shot up in alarm. “Oh no, how much did she tell you!?”

Liu laughed, “Little to nothing, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t noticed the strange energy between you two lately.”

Lao groaned and sat up.

“Heed my advice, and stop moping around, Lao.” Liu patted the other young man’s shoulder before setting off to find their master.

___

A few hours passed and Kung Lao finally felt like he had the right words to explain how he felt to (Y/n). Yes, he’d spent hours cooped up in his room, scribbling his thoughts down on paper until he ultimately decided it was best to be direct. The poor girl was probably confused enough as it was.

It was settled then. He’d talk to her tomorrow after training and lessons, but right now it was probably best to focus on dinner.

He silently walked down the main hall and towards the kitchen. He was sheet he staff had already cleaned up dinner, and seeing as he wasn’t present to eat with the others, it was likely they didn’t bother to prepare him a plate.

Lao opened the door but froze in his tracks at the sight of (Y/n) standing in front of the counter, her shirt stained with the remnants of assorted ingredients. She staggered back at the sight of him in the door way. Lao’s eyes strayed to a small tray of egg rolls and a few other dishes.

“Kung Lao,” She breathed out.

He cleared his throat. “That seems a little excessive for a late night snack.”

“Oh this—,” (Y/n) glanced to the tray and back at him, “You weren’t at dinner, and I didn’t expect you to come to the kitchen... it was supposed to be a secret.”

“I see.” Kung Lao was silent for a moment. “Oh. OH— this is,” He gestured to the tray awkwardly, “for me...”

(Y/n) pursed her lips and nodded, glancing down at the floor. The two of them stood without a word for a moment, anxiety building up in their stomachs. Neither of them wanted to be the first to break the silence, and yet both of them had so much to say.

“I’m sorry.” (Y/n) mumbled at last. “I took our usual teasing too far last time, and I shouldn’t have avoided you—,”

“I wanted to kiss you.” Kung Lao blurted out. “I still do. And wanted you to want me to kiss you.”

“Kung Lao, the jokes we made were fun and all—,”

“Well, I’m not playing around anymore, (Y/n). This time it isn’t a joke.” The serious look he had on the other day had returned.

“So...,” (Y/n) began, barely a whisper, “what are you saying?”

Kung Lao exhaled heavily and furrowed his brows. “How can I be any more transparent right now!?” He growled, “I’m in love with you, (Y/n).”

It was as if a heavy weight had been lifted off of both of their chests in that moment.

(Y/n) smiled and wasted no time to wrap her arms around Kung Lao’s neck and press her lips against his. He kissed back without hesitation and wrapped his arms around her body shamelessly. Kung Lao deepened the kiss, and their lips moved together feverently, as if this was something they’d both been yearing for for a while.

When they finally separated, (Y/n) rested her head in the crook of Lao’s neck, sighing happily.

“You know what? I think I just might be in love with you too, Lao.”

#liu kang #mk kung lao #mk liu kang #mk raiden #mortal kombat #mortal kombat 1995 #mortal kombat 2021 #kung lao x reader #mk x reader #mortal kombat kung lao #mortal kombat liu kang

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cdroloisms · 3 years ago

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originally i just wanted dream to recover, preferably in the syndicate. but after today's quackity lore? he deserves to fuck shit up for a bit. let him get his revenge. tommy got his revenge on dream, techno got his revenge on l'manberg, dream deserves to get revenge on quackity and sam! then he can recover after that lol

(context: ask was sent on march 16th and i am very. very late.)

but YEAH !! logic brain says revenge bad and cycle of violence will continue BUT emotion brain wants c!dream to go crazy go stupid !! go beat them up honey we’ll be here with juice boxes and fruit snacks when you’re done <3

i wrote this while looping casino royale by derivakat for (checks time) something like 12 hours straight so uhh,,, yeah LMAO have some of c!dream going apeshit bc honestly he deserves it (/hj)

tw: implied torture, abuse, mentioned injuries, suicide, murder, explosions, death, violence, dark portrayals of c!dream, c!quackity, and c!sam, emotional distress, prison arc, pandora’s vault

Sam is uneasy long before he enters Las Nevadas - Quackity’s terse, serious-sounding string of texts he’d woken up to had sent his heart racing before the country even came into sight, and he’s pretty sure the pit in the middle of his gut since Dream escaped a week ago won’t disappear until the prisoner is either jailed or dead at his feet. Still, the city hardly does his anxiety any favors - each step within its limits feels a bit more like walking to his own death, the silent storefronts and looming, boarded up casino seeming to watch his every move, making him pick up his pace to move a little faster and avoid their judging gazes.

Stuck in his head as he is, it’s not until he’s halfway to the meeting place that he realizes how eerily quiet the place is - Las Nevadas has yet to be a particularly busy country with the casino yet to open and their recruits usually doing their own thing in the meantime, but still there’s usually at least one of them lingering on the city grounds, between Fundy’s work on his yacht and Foolish’s construction and whatever Slime does, usually involving an immense amount of following Quackity’s every move. The city as it right now feels much more like when it had been no more than a secret of his and Quackity, months spent with just the two of them working to make Big Q’s vision a reality. There’s something uniquely unnerving about it, like stepping into a ghost town, and Sam’s unease only grows.

“Sam!” Quackity calls from the base of the casino - Sam shades his eyes from the sun as he jogs over. Even from this far, it’s clear Q is displeased - his lips are flat in a small frown, skin taut from where the corner of his mouth is pulling at his scar. His tie is slightly askew and shirt rumpled - he looks disheveled, eyebrows narrowed irritatedly as he taps at something on his communicator. Sam smiles slightly, hollow.

“Hello Quackity,” he responds simply, drawing his trident and bringing it to his side. “You said we needed to meet?”

“Yeah,” Quackity’s voice is distracted, and he mumbles a curse as he jams his finger particularly hard against the communicator screen. “What is up with everyone today? They sent me these- weird fucking messages and then we get here and nobody’s here-”

“Who?” Sam’s lips press together. “You mean like- Fundy? Or Foolish?” They seem to be the ones that Quackity got messages from most frequently, if he remembers right. He doesn’t know for sure - usually, Quackity handles the social side of managing Las Nevadas.

“Fundy, Purpled, Foolish, Slime-” Quackity makes a vague, affronted noise. “All of them! Where the hell are they?”

Sam pauses.

“Q, when did Slime learn to use a communicator?”

“That’s the green one, right?” Both of them freeze, whirling around to the voice behind them, seeing nothing but the empty, arched doorway of the still-locked casino. “Naïve. Easy to fool.” The voice pauses, barks a sharp, quiet laugh. “Made my job easy, at least.”

The voice is familiar- too familiar. Sam doesn’t think he’ll ever get that cadence out of his head, not after months after months spent in the prison, hearing it in every possible tone and form. Quackity’s shoulders are hunched up to his ears, teeth bared in a snarl.

“Dream- I fucking swear- where the hell are you?”

“Aw, not so brave when the other person can actually fight back, are we?” Dream’s voice is lilting, mocking, and Sam’s hands tighten on the trident. “Fine, I’ll show myself. I’m not like you- no need to extend this game any longer than necessary.”

Dream slinks out from the shadows, wearing all black and covered in netherite armor, seeming fiddling with a small, grey thing in one hand. HIs stance is wide, torso pulled close to the ground - instead of a mask, his outfit includes a hooded black cloak that pulls down over his face, barely offering a glimpse of his eye glaring from underneath it.

“I’m giving you three seconds to tell me why the hell you’re in my country,” Quackity growls, sword forming in his hand, blade still crusted over with old blood, “And I’ll make your death half as painful as it’ll be otherwise.”

Dream laughs, high-pitched and unstable. “Please- what are you gonna do with that thing?” Quackity stalks forward with a low, wordless yell and Sam only barely manages to snag him back by the wrist.

“Watch it, Q,” Sam mutters, looking closer. Sure enough, there’s a faint, reddish haze rising from Dream’s body, only barely visible, interspersed with some lighter blue wisps. Strength and Speed. “He’s got potions.”

“Outmatched, aren’t we?” Dream cocks his head to the side, a tight-lipped smile visible under the hood’s shadow. “What a shame. I was hoping for a good fight.”

Quackity curses at him, loudly, but mullishly stays in place instead of lashing out like earlier, and Sam hisses a small sigh of relief. He looks back over at Dream - under the sun, he looks worse than ever, armor doing little to hide the gaunt edge of his face, limbs skinny and shaking. His hands tremble, wrists kept close together, as he continues to move the thing within them from hand to hand, small and grey and smooth from what he can tell in flashes between scarred and calloused fingers. He’s still favoring his left side slightly, but his eyes are cold and clear as they follow his every movement, clearly lucid and intelligent. Unfortunately for them, Dream is the best of fighters at the worst of times, and he has no doubt that with potions on his side and themselves relatively unprepared for battle, any fight with him won’t go particularly well.

Negotiation it is, then. “Why are you here, Dream?” If they stall long enough, then the rest of the server can come to back them up, and then even Dream won’t be able to fight back for long. He and Quackity can figure out what to do with him once he’s safely back under their control - for now, they have to play things safe. He pulls out his communicator carefully with one hand, trying to avoid drawing attention to his movements. “I doubt you’re here for a housewarming visit.”

Dream waves his hand slightly. “Something like that-” he bares his teeth in a small smile. “How about a housewarming gift, instead?”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Quackity bites, aggressive in a way that speaks of how threatened he feels, and the pit in Sam’s stomach only grows. Dream’s eye seems to glow as he turns and presses his hands to the nearby wall; when he pulls them back, there’s a stone button fastened on the quartz.

“Say, Quackity,” Dream’s voice is too light to be anything but forced levity, rolling his shoulders back to try and hide the way his entire body has begun to shake even more violently than before. “How much TNT do you suppose it took for Wilbur to blow up L’manburg?”

Sam gasps, low and harsh through his teeth, a quiet, breathless no falling from his lips. Quackity’s head shakes, eyes widening in fury and denial.

“No- no what the fuck did you do- Dream what the absolute fuck did you do-”

“Eleven stacks of TNT, to blow up that country to kingdom come.” Dream laughs, directing his wild, manic expression to look them in the eye. “The amount of TNT hooked up to this thing is ten times that.”

“You’re a liar-” Quackity rushes forward, sword raised, “I’m going to fucking kill you-”

Sam grabs him, again, ignoring his yells to look at Dream, who’s still standing, seemingly unruffled, one hand hovering over the button that’ll spell doom for them all.

“That’ll kill all of us,” he tries to reason, panic clawing up his lungs, “You’re on your last life. You can’t-”

“And what, Warden, makes you think I give a single goddamn fuck about that?” Dream’s voice cracks, slightly, and for a moment Sam almost thinks he’ll break, that he can press the point until the other backs down - but Dream is nothing if not stubborn, and within seconds he’s composed himself again, looking at them with a determined set to his jaw that Sam recognizes well enough from Quackity’s visits to know that he won’t back down. “Everyone else is far away from here. I made sure of that. It’s just you, and Quackity, and me, and I’m pressing this button if it’s the last thing I do. Call it a parting shot, will you?”

Sam pulls at Quackity, wrist still locked in his grip. “Q, we have to leave.”

“I’m not letting him destroy this place Sam, are you out of your fucking mind? This- Las Nevadas- it’s everything- I’m not letting him take this place from me not again-”

“He’s going to kill us all, Quackity,” he throws a water bucket at his feet, charging up his trident. The sign taunts him at the edges of the city borders, far too far away for any of them to even hope to reach. “We have to go now-”

“Say your goodbyes,” Dream taunts, and there’s a quiet click. Sam smells the faint, smoky smell of redstone being activated, hears a hum growing in volume from the ground beneath him. He looks over to Dream, who has a hand pressing the button to the wall, fever-bright eyes wide and wet as he stares at his own hand before shutting them with a soft, almost serene smile. “And see you in hell.”

The world goes white.

[Dream was blown up by Dream.]

[Quackity was blown up by Dream.]

[awesamdude was blown up by Dream.]

#-> my writing #my writing :D #my asks !!#-> my asks #tw torture #tw abuse #tw injuries #tw suicide #tw murder #tw explosion #tw death #tw violence #tw emotional distress #prison arc #pandora's vault

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avnkin · 4 years ago

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Not What It Seems ( d.m )

Summary: Draco starts spreading rumours about you and you demand to know why.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!reader

Word Count: 2k ish

Warnings: angst and draco being mean

Author’s Note: here’s my first draco fic!!! i’m currently working on 4 others, one series, two requests and a one shot that i’m 8k words deep into,, please continue sending in requests i love hearing your ideas and writing them out!<3 PSA I wrote this in like an hour so it’s not my best work lmao I just wanted to post something since i’ve been so inactive (not my gif)

You and Draco had always had a sort of rivalry going on between the two of you. Everyday in class he’d throw a snide comment directed your way which you’d send right back with a remark of your own.

Everyone had gotten used it by now the teachers hardly bothering to intervene whenever you two were having one of your ‘arguments’ in class.

It had been a monday when the rumours had started. You’d been walking to your charms class when you noticed the abnormally large crowd of Slytherin girls stop and stare when you walked past, whispering in each other’s ears while they not so subtly pointed at you.

You’d thought nothing of it since most of those girls hated you and made damn sure you knew it so that wasn’t anything new, but the stares and giggles had continued on for the rest of the day and not just from the Slytherin’s but the other houses as well, what the hell was going on?

When you’d finally made it to your last class of the day you’d grown fairly sick of it. Hermione had taken a seat next you which was when you knew something was definitely up since she always sat next to Ron and you to Harry.

She’d given you a worried glance which you’d returned with one of confusion.

“Why is everyone acting so weird?” you finally asked noticing the lingering stares from your fellow classmates who quickly looked away whenever you made eye contact.

“I was actually coming to see if you knew” Hermione had hesitantly replied, shuffling uncomfortably in her seat.

“Knew? knew what” you inquired feeling the tiniest hint of nerves as you watched Hermione bite down on her, lip carefully contemplating her next words.

“There’s been this rumour... about you” Hermione cautioned, it was obvious she didn’t feel comfortable telling you this but you didn’t care continuing to press on her.

“What rumour?”

“Well it’s just people have been saying that you’ve been- uh sleeping around” she spoke the last part of her sentence quietly as she looked down onto her lap “please don’t think I’m judging you, I would never do that what you do in your own time is entirely your business and no one else’s, it’s just to bad nobody at this school seems to be familiar with the word privacy- but anyways, I just wanted you to hear it from me rather then anybody else”

Your eyes widened at her words and you suddenly became very aware of the students that we’re still staring now knowing what they were thinking made it ten times worse.

“What? why would anyone think that” your voice wavered even though you felt like you knew exactly who had started the rumour, Malfoy.

He’d seen you with a fellow Slytherin boy the other night, you knew that because you’d made very awkward eye contact with the platinum blond once you’d entered they boys dormitories.

It hadn’t been anything like everyone seemed to think, but you couldn’t go telling people that you were sneaking around with a boy who was helping you cheat on your tests.

You hadn’t been doing well in school so you saw no harm in paying someone off to do your homework or work on spells that would enable him to talk to you during tests and tell you the answers. Your family was wealthy which was why you knew they wouldn’t question the missing money.

You figured that Draco had been watching you whenever you’d sneak into the Slytherin common room but decided to keep it to himself until today apparently.

When he walked into the classroom accompanied by his usual entourage, you gave him the deadliest stare you could muster which he only replied too with a wink.

It infuriated you that he’d been spreading such lies about you, who did he think he was? Even if you had been sleeping with the boy it wasn’t his or anyone else’s damn business.

Since the teacher had yet to arrive you angrily stood up stomping towards Draco, wanting to get more than a few things off of your chest.

When you finally stood in front of his desk you slammed both your hands down on the wooden surface causing him to turn towards you leaning back in his chair his signature smirk resting on his lips.

“Anything I can help you with Y/L/N” his voice was smooth, as if he didn’t have a care in the world, asshole.

“You can stop telling lies about me for starters” you chided, rolling your eyes once you heard the ‘oh’s’ from around you, clearly you’d caught the attention of the rest of the class.

“They’re not lies and you know it” he challenged now sitting up fully in his chair.

“Yes they are and why do you even care Malfoy? Are you jealous” that sentence seemed to throw him off as he uncomfortably shifted in his chair his body language changing in mere seconds.

That’s when you realized you’d hit a soft spot, smirking before continuing “oh I get it, that’s it, you’re in love with me aren’t you” you teasingly pouted leaning forward on his desk to rest your chin in your palm smiling innocently up at him.

A bright pink tint appeared on his cheeks as he took in a deep breath giving you a warning glare which you ignored even though you knew you were skating on thin ice.

“Poor Malfoy can’t even get the girl he likes”

That’s when he seemed to snap, quickly getting up pushing the chair from behind him causing it to almost fall to the floor but Zabini’s arm had caught it just in time.

He placed his fingers on the desk in front of him, all embarrassment seeming to fade off of him as he looked you up and down, his signature smirk now back on his lips.

“Believe me Y/L/N, I don’t want you and neither does anyone else so any guy who says he’s interested in you beyond just fucking you is full of shit”

You’d been expecting him to say a lot of things but not that. You stood frozen for a couple of seconds, this was probably the first time you couldn’t come up with anything to say.

His words had cut deep and the chortles from the students around you weren’t helping at all. You felt tears beginning to brim in the corner of your eyes but you didn’t dare let them fall, you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d hurt so you just shook your head before heading straight for the exit of the classroom.

“That was a low blow Malfoy, even for you” Hermione glared at him before hurriedly standing up and following you out into the hallway.

Draco didn’t melt into the cheers and laughter of his friends like he usually did, instead he sunk into his seat ignoring everyone around him.

He knew what he’d said wasn’t true but he’d been so blinded by jealousy when he saw you enter another boys dormitory that he’d gone to Blaise and told him that he wouldn’t be surprised if you would have gone through the entire Slytherin house by the end of the term.

He truly didn’t know why he did it and a sudden guilt creeped onto him as flashes off your hurt face lingered in his mind.

Tears were now fully falling down your cheeks, you felt embarrassed and humiliated, he’d given all the students yet another thing to gossip about without a care in the world.

“Y/N!” Hermione’s voice sounded from behind you causing to you quickly stop and turn around gladly accepting the comforting hug she engulfed you in as soon as she reached you.

“He’s full of shit Y/N don’t you dare let someone like him be the cause of your tears. You are so much more than his stupid comments believe me” you nodded letting her wipe away your tears.

You stayed out in the hallway for a couple more minutes but when you saw professor Snape walking past you, you didn’t feel like getting yelled at for being late as well so you and Hermione quickly followed after him.

As soon as you walked into the classroom all eyes were on you but you ignored them keeping your head held high as you walked back to your seat not daring to look over at Draco.

After class had finished you felt much better having spent your time with ‘the golden trio’ letting them cheer you up, your embarrassment long forgotten as the four of you made your way into the Great Hall for dinner.

You’d been walking behind them having been to caught up in your own thoughts when you felt a hand wrap around your wrist pulling you into an empty corner of the hallway along with them.

You let out a yelp as you were pressed against a wall a hand coming up to cover your mouth. You quickly looked up at your assailant only to be met with a pair of grey eyes you weren’t expecting to see, Draco.

“Calm down it’s just me”

You immediately pushed him off of you “Is that supposed to make feel better? God you’re such an arse” you scoffed attempting to walk away from him but he grabbed your arm again pulling you back in front of him.

“Y/N please hear me out” he pleaded, the mention of your first name startling you a bit, not once in all your years at Hogwarts had he called you Y/N.

“Y/N huh, that’s new” you folded your arms over your chest glaring up at him.

He ignored your words as he fiddled with his fingers clearly trying to think of an apology good enough for what he had said earlier.

“Shit, Y/N- I mean Y/L/N, I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have said that it was stupid, I-I hope you know I don’t actually think that, It’s just when I saw you with him I got so mad, I don’t know why I-I didn’t mean it-“

“You didn’t mean it? Well that sure as hell didn’t stop you from saying it in front of the entire bloody class” you cut him off now resting your hand on your hip.

“I know, I- I don’t know what to say except that I’m really sorry” he shook his head before he turned to walk away from you, but just as he was about to round the corner you called out after him.

“I’m sorry for what I said as well”

He stopped dead in his tracks before slowly making his way back to stand in front of you, you were now very much aware of how close the two of you were and you almost invontarily backed into the stone wall causing him to take another step towards you.

“Well you weren’t exactly wrong”

“Oh so you were jealous” you teased looking up at the platnium blond who already had his eyes glued on you a small smile resting on his lips

Instead of answering he surged forward pressing you even harder into the wall, his hands wrapping around your waist as his lips connected with yours.

Your eyes widened at his actions as you stood frozen against him which he seemed to notice after a couple of seconds quickly pushing himself off of you.

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have-” you cut him off by wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down to meet your lips again.

He hungrily kissed you back his arms wrapping around your torso before travelling down to your hips pulling you even more into him.

“What on earth is going on here” professor McGonagall’s voice suddenly sounded from beside you causing the two of you to quickly jump away from each other.

“Oh- uhm sorry professor we were just- uhm” you tried to come up with an excuse turning your head towards Draco hoping he would help but he just stood frozen like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Detention, both of you for the next two weeks”

#draco malfoy one shot #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy #harry potter imagine #harry potter #tom felton imagine #tom felton

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outofsstyles · 4 years ago

Text

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

word count: 13.7k

warnings: none!

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

Wildest Dreams: read part 1 here :)

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not the same.”

“I know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m good.”

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

“I won’t!” You wave back.

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

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

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you not have lipstick?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, yeah. I know him.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That is, until now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He chuckles. “What girlfriend?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Sounds easy enough.” Harry mumbles.

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

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

“Interesting is a great word to describe it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

“Dangerous? Why’s that?”

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

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

“So, what’s next?” You prompt.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He laughs, “Are you sure?”

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

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

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

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

“No peeking.”

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

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

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

“Yes!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure, yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry’s brows meet. “Huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I know mine.”

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

“Jennifer Aniston.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. “Oh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cheers.” You say, mimicking him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You frown, “Then, why did you?”

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

“I figured.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And you said yes.”

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

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

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

“At least you can admit to it.”

“I was a prick to both of you.”

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

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

“It’s very easy to say that now.”

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

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

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

“Ouch.”

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

“That’s nice to hear, at least.”

“It is, yeah.”

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

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

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

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

You raise your brows, “Is it not?”

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

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

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

“Is that so?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do it, then.” You tease.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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