cream crackered tbh love

part i.

You like to think that you’re a good person. You have plenty of attributes that make you a good person. The summer heat in California, although, is enough to negate all of them. Somehow, you always seem to forget just how miserable the weather can get until it’s hitting you right in the face. You step out of the comfort of your home and into the sweltering heat of the day, already groaning as your dog waits eagerly by your side. With your headphones on and ABBA track queued up, the click of a leash connecting to a collar signals the start of your daily routine.

Your dog trots happily beside you on the worn sidewalk, seemingly unbothered by the high temperatures of August in Los Angeles. Maybe you were overreacting slightly, maybe you just overheat quicker than the average person. One thing you do know, is that you found this heat to be more akin to spending an afternoon in Hell.

“The things I do for you,” you mutter, wiping a drop of sweat from your brow as your dog looks back up at you, tongue lolling out the side of their mouth as they pant happily along.

A few upbeat tracks later, you find yourself humming along to the sounds of your Walkman and looping back up the street where your house stands on the corner. As you approach the house immediately before yours, your dog’s demeanor shifts suddenly. The leash in your hand pulls taught as they sniff wildly at the air, ears pinned back. You pull your headphones down around your neck, cassette still playing quietly into the air around you as you continue to tread forward carefully. As you get a few feet closer to your neighbors yard, your dog starts barking incessantly and quickly breaks free from your grasp on the leash with a strong yank. Your dog beelines for the hedges lining your neighbors windows as you stumble into the yard after them, trying to catch the end of the leash as it drags through the grass.

“Shit!” a high pitched whine hits your ears as you inch closer to the hedges. “Shoo! Get!” the voice shouts in a panicked whisper.

Your dog is now growling at the hedge as you reach down and secure the leash back in your palm. You peer around to investigate the space between the hedge and the windows of your neighbors home when you are met with the wide blue eyes of a disheveled, startled man sprawled out in the dirt.

“Just what the fuck do you think you’re doing? Who are you?” you blurt as the man’s gaze shifts rapidly between you and the window he was clearly just peering through.

“Huh? What are you, some kind of peeping Tom? I’ll call the police right now, I swear to God!” you bellow, pointing an accusatory finger in the strangers face. He stammers as you take a step closer to him, placing your hands on your hips in an authoritative stance.

His eyes widen as you loom over him, your dog continuing to growl and snarl at his feet. The sun glints off of a gold watch secured tightly to his wrist as he raises his hands quickly in surrender, waving them frantically as you look down at him.

“Stop, stop! I’m not some kind of pervert, I swear, I’m—“ he starts, only to be cut off by your voice.

“Cut the shit, I’m not kidding! I will march over to my house and call the cops if you don’t explain yourself this second.”

“Sunshine, I am the cops! I’m a private investigator, if you must know, and I’m here working on a case for my client!” he hisses, kicking his foot as your dog nips at his shoe.

“And you expect me to just believe you? For all I know, you could be casing the joint!” Your brow cocks as you examine the man in front of you a little closer.

Private investigator, huh? He doesn’t seem to really fit the part, but his look also doesn’t scream ‘criminal’, you think as your eyes dart across his cowering form below you. He’s a bit rugged around the edges, maybe about five to ten years older than you. His mussed hair lays in loose strands across his forehead with some surprisingly well-kempt facial hair to match. Sideburns paired with a mustache and a goatee. Or is it a soul patch? Either way, it’s all very seventies of him. His watch is matched to a gold ring that sits snug against his pinky and a simple chain that hangs around his throat. He’s wearing a garishly patterned shirt, unbuttoned about halfway to reveal a white tank top that lays taught across his chest. Your eyes drift down to his lightly colored trousers, smeared with a layer of dirt and a few stray leaves, likely from his scuffle with your dog.

You pull slightly on the leash in your hand, signaling your dog to let up their assault on the man. The P.I. braces himself with one hand against the dirt of the flowerbed to push off the ground when without thinking, your foot flies to the center of his chest, pinning him down. He lets out a yelp as the air is punched from his lungs, body hitting the hard ground beneath him.

“Nope.” You say, crossing your arms across your chest, keeping your eyes trained on him in case he tries to do something stupid. You weren’t letting him get away that easily.

Maybe it’s the heat making you act like a bitch, or maybe it’s the stranger trying to get his rocks off by peeking into unsuspecting people’s homes, but you weren’t about to just let him go on his merry way just because he claims to be an investigator. You raise your brows at the man under your shoe, waiting for a better explanation before relinquishing your hold on him.

“Mrs. Doherty, that’s who lives here, you know her, right?” He points at the house behind him with a thumb. “She’s the one who hired me. Thinks her husband has been seeing another woman while she’s out, I’m just looking into it.” He says as he reaches into his pocket to hand you a business card.

You reach down slightly and pluck the card from between his fingers and examine it. Detective Holland March, Private Investigator. The Nice Guys Agency. The card has a crude caricature of him and another man emblazoned above a phone number and address. The Nice Guys. Where have you heard that name before? You wrack your brain for a moment, eyes flitting between the drawing on the card and the man in front of you. Suddenly, you remember the countless newspaper headlines and articles you had read after The Nice Guys had closed the case of that conspiracy with the dead porn star a few years back. The details begin to settle and click into place as you lower your shoe from Holland’s chest and let him slowly rise back to his feet.

“Are you supposed to give your client up that easily? Isn’t there some sort of client privilege or something?” You ask as you watch Holland attempt to dust off his brown-stained trousers.

His lean frame is actually fairly tall when he isn’t all but folded in half on the ground. He stands much taller than you. He grumbles a bit as he just rubs the dirt further into his fabric clad legs before turning his attention back to you.

“Well, I wouldn’t have had to give her up that easily if you weren’t so concerned with trying to squish me like a bug, sugar.” He drawls, reaching up to straighten his shirt collar before dipping into the pocket for a cigarette and lighter. The pet name sends a shiver through your body, despite the fact that you thought this man was a pervert not five minutes ago.

He lights the cigarette and takes a few puffs as his brow furrows and he begins leaning closer to your chest.

“Hey! Have you learned anything?” You bite out, jumping back slightly, your dog highly focused on Holland.

“Is that Voulez-Vous?” Holland asks, tilting his head towards the headphones still dangling around your neck. “Mm, I love ABBA, those guys really know how to make some good music.” He grins, taking another drag from his cigarette.

You can only nod, returning a small smile to Holland as smoke billows out around the two of you.

“Well, I’ve seen about all I need for today, I think I’ll head out and go get these case details squared away.” Holland says as he reaches a hand out to you.

“If it’s not too much trouble, give me a ring if you see anything out of the ordinary around here, yeah? Numbers on the card, that’s my direct line. The smallest detail could lead to a big break in the case.” His large hand squeezes yours gently before letting it drop. “Really. The smallest detail. Nothing is too small.” His eyes bore into yours for a moment longer than necessary. Unnecessary, but not quite unwelcome.

Holland spins around and starts toward the street, not without throwing a wink back at you over his shoulder. You squint as you bring a hand up to shield your eyes as you watch Holland whip his head around a few times before jogging down the block to a dusty old convertible parked near the end of the street.

You shake your head and turn to look down at your dog when you spot a small notepad resting in the dirt in front of the window. You lean down and pick it up, examining the worn cover in your hands. You realize who it must belong to and a smile creeps onto your lips as you pocket both the notepad and Holland’s business card. Maybe you will be giving him a call after all.

authors note ✮⋆˙ eeek welcome back!!! this is part one of my silly little holland x reader fic i hope you liked it! <3 if you’re reading this, thank you for being here and for making it this far!! please consider liking, reblogging, or commenting if you enjoyed it, i love to hear your thoughts! :-)

this post will be added to my masterlist and updated as i publish more parts! stay tuned, i’m so excited for you to see what’s in store for them 😙

if you’d like to be added to my taglist for this and all future rygos works, please let me know! 🫶🗣️

special acknowledgments ✮⋆˙ thank you to all of my dear friends that have helped encourage me to keep writing!!! i love you all so much, you mean the world to me 🥹🫶

@cosmicyeehaw haley my beloved!!! thank you for always letting me throw ideas at you and to be the first to read all of my drafts, you have inspired and encouraged me so much with my writing so far ilysm 💖💘💖 and big thanks especially for letting me use the now holland-coveted-pet-name ‘sugar’ ;) you mean the world to me bestie,,

@larsandthewritergirl evie my beloved!! your ex!holland works have especially inspired me to write something of my own and ilysm as well 💖💘 thank you for engraining the phrase ‘babydoll’ in my big wrinkly brain… big Thoughts happening here credit is due to you for any future use in the fic :’)