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littlemisslipbalm · 3 years

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“you make me so angry sometimes”

idk if this gif makes sense, but i feel like it will if you read the story, it just gives me that vibe.

A one shot I cooked up idk, it’s about Harry and a makeup artist on DWD, it’s quite angsty, idk how that happened, it’s also very long, idk how that happened either, maybe i do a part 2, maybe i don’t idk lmk. Feedback is appreciated, not proofread. REBLOGS help writers tremendously and i love reading whatever you write in the tags its my favorite thing!! Love yall and Merry Christmas!

Word Count: 17.7k | Warnings: ENEMIES to LOVERS! swearing, angst!, some anxiety -like self-doubt, yn being mean to harry kind of a lot, i dont remember, nothing too crazy, Nick Kroll?, lots of conversation

When she pictured herself as a makeup artist in Los Angeles, she hadn’t pictured exactly what she was doing right now.

She had expected doing gorgeous makeup for gorgeous actresses or doing wildly fun stuff like in Euphoria. And because of that she had worked her ass off to get where she was today. She had practiced for hours, worked countless hours for free, and networked to the cows came fucking home.

So why the fuck was she using tattoo-strength concealer to cover up the maybe 60 tattoos some asshole musician turned actor had all over?

Don’t Worry Darling was her first major film to work on so she couldn’t complain. She was happy to simply be there. Well she had been. The first day she had showed up 15 minutes early and had worn her favorite power suit she had. It was dark navy with a white lace long sleeve turtleneck underneath. She hoped to look fun but professional.

Hollywood was all about impressions, especially first ones, even when you’re the makeup artist. She had quickly learned that she was one of six makeup artists. One of them being the friend who had helped her get the job, Angie. Angie was like her surrogate mother in Los Angeles that she had met on her first film job for something much less high profile than Olivia Wilde’s second directing project. Her braided grey hair and fabulous jeans had drawn Y/N right in and they had connected instantly.

Since Y/N was deemed the most inexperienced by the head of the makeup department, she was relegated to easier jobs: assisting the other artists on main characters sometimes, mostly dealing with minor characters touch ups (and full make-up if she was lucky), and the job nobody wanted: tattoo coverage.

Harry Styles was one of the leads for the film and besides his minimal acting, everyone knew he was a worldwide rockstar. With the rock and roll life starting off as a popstar life at the ripe age of 16, he had amassed around 60 tattoos in the past decade. Impressive by her standard normally. She usually counted herself as an appreciator of tattoos and their art, finding them similar to makeup and the self expression that came with both forms. Especially since she had a few of her own, but when she walked into Trailer #6 and saw a good amount of Harry’s tattoos, she wanted to murder every artist he’d ever been to.

She had to make an inventory the first day of all of his visible tattoos when he was just wearing boxers. He had been friendly, trying to make conversation, but as the time wore on, they both grew tired and silent. She had to write down the location and a description of every tattoo and as he took off everything but boxers she grew more and more annoyed with his random and dumb tattoos. Some of them were amazing, the eagle, the anchor, the butterfly, and the ferns were probably her favorites. But some of them, she couldn't hold back her rolling eyes and annoyed expressions. The “Big” on his right big toe, a miniscule lock, almost everything on his inner left arm (the packers logo, Pingu, etc.)

She traces at the rose and the ship and then flips his arm out to reveal his inner arm to her gaze. “That is a big fucking bee.”

He snickers, “Y’like it?”

She ignores his question. “For god’s sake, someone is needle happy,” she said as she examined his left arm, taking note of every permanent drawing.

He shrugs his right shoulder, uninhibited by her prodding. “Dunno, beginning to regret some of them.”

“I would hope,” she mutters, scribbling on her paper the various ones she had just seen on his arm. Next was his ribcage ones.

He scoffs, “Oi, it’s not like you haven’t got any.”

“How would you-” She looks at him wide eyed.

“Right…” he takes his right hand and pushes her hair past her ear to reveal three little red line butterflies following the curve of her ear, “There. At least.”

She huffs and knocks his hand away from her. Her hair falling back into its place.

“Maybe some located in a few more intimate places I’m guessing from the red rushing to your cheeks right now.”

“Can you just let me do my job,” she says, not giving in to his teasing or sparing him a glance as she feels his intense gaze on her face. She was studying his left rib cage where a few cool tattoos happened to be.

“You at least have some taste or persuasive artists because not all of these are shit,” she speaks again after just the sound of her pen on the paper filled the trailer.

“Gee, thanks,” he laughs unamused and rolls his large green eyes.

She thought he had some of the biggest eyes she’d ever seen. But she also knew to keep that to herself because he’d either take it as a compliment and think she was noticing him too much or he’d take it as a massive insult and get her fired.

His right hand taps at his thigh, tapping a rhythm she didn’t care to pay any attention too. She just wanted to finish the stupid inventory of the stupid tattoos on this stupid man.

“Take those off,” she says to Harry, looking back at her clipboard again, filling up quickly with her notes.

He stands there, staring at her stubbornly. He was entirely bored with this exercise, especially since his company was some of the worst he’s ever had. She spares him a glance when she doesn’t notice any slipping off of the colorful sweatpants he’s wearing.

She arches a brow at him, her pen tapping impatiently against the paper. “Go on. Can’t imagine you want this to go on longer than it already has.”

He rolls his eyes again, slipping his thumbs into the waistline of the pants and tugging down. Simultaneously, he toes off the dirty vans he seemed to wear everywhere. The fabric pools easily and he steps out of them and discards them on the couch behind him. He’s actually wearing black briefs. She chooses not to notice anything further than that.

“Socks...can stay on,” She tries to say as he begins to peel one off. He stops midway and nods.

She flings his shirt to him, not needing to see his naked torso for another moment, “I know you’ve got some feet and ankle tats, but I also know that you won’t be wearing anything that will expose them. Thank your lucky stars that I don’t have to makeup your feet.”

He catches the shirt easily and slips his arms inside before tugging it quickly over his head and over his expansive shoulders. The ferns disappear out of sight.

“Well then we’re almost done then. Just got the knee ones -”

“And the tiger. That’s gonna be one son of a bitch,” she sighs and examines his legs, not bothering to crouch.

“What the actual fuck dude?” Her tone is exasperate and like she would rather be anywhere else than here.

“I’m sorry?” He sputters, hands on his hips and eyes bewildered.

“Yes. No. Oui. Non. Who are you?” She rubs at her eyes and shakers her head.

“S’a little rude.”

“You’re right,” she semi-rushes out at his serious tone, ready to apologize. When a grin spreads over his face and he chuckles under his breath she really wants to smack him upside the head. He was exhausting. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Thought it was funny at the time. Kind of think it’s even funnier now since it’s got you all mad.” He leans over her shoulder to look at her notes and when she glances at him unhappily he just looks smug.

“Alright,” she finishes the scribble of a description and clicks the end of her pen, “All done. You can get dressed. I’ll see you bright and early for tattoo makeup. It’s gonna take about an hour to do all this, just so you can mentally prepare for that.”

“It was nice to meet you,” he attempts at a friendly and professional farewell. “See you tomorrow…” he trails off as he watches her turn on her heel and walk out of the trailer door swiftly. The door swung shut and bounced a little bit in her wake.

Harry sighed and adjusted his clothes and hair in the mirror. After a moment he shakes his head, an even louder sigh escaping him.

“Good morning!” She greets happily, walking into the trailer without a knock. Well-rested and happy at least that she doesn’t have to just inspect a body, she looks around the trailer.

She realizes no one is there and she’s taken aback. First of all, if Harry wasn’t there then he shouldn’t have left his trailer unlocked. And second, he was fucking late, the fucking twat.

She grumbles, setting her coffee on the countertop. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “In through the nose, out through the mouth” she mutters. She knew this was a big opportunity and having a big star like Harry in her corner could make her career. She needed them to get off on a better foot today.

“Good form, I’d say relax the shoulders a little more,” the door swings open carrying the California twang-British accent that she would soon become all too accustomed to.

Harry points at her shoulders and narrows his eyes regarding her in the trailer. She offers a strained smile through the mirror and Harry sets down his personal things on the couch.

“Alright, well let’s get started shall we,” she smiles and turns to him, gesturing to the swivel chair next to her.

He nods, a twinkle in his eye as he regards her. He’s unsure of the tone and attitude she’s giving him today. She had been feisty yesterday, cordial at times, but mostly biting and witty. He had liked it. It had made the whole ordeal bearable whereas now she seemed to be laying it on a little thick.

“Just your hands and neck today,” she says, pulling out the makeup materials needed and a checklist of the tattoos she needed to make sure were invisible.

“Should only take..a little under an hour today. Just gonna remind you now though, other days we won’t be so lucky.”

Harry chuckles under his breath and rolls his head around his shoulders before sitting in the chair. “Were you tired yesterday?” He inquires.

“Why do you ask?” She throws a glance over her shoulder at Harry. He’s begun slipping off his sweatshirt and yawns as he does it.

“You seem different from yesterday and I’m just wondering which one is the real you.”

She continues working about the room and rolls her eyes to herself, “I’m always the real me. I come no other way, but this morning I woke up and thought ‘this is the job you’ve fucking wanted for ages, so stop being such a bitch so you don’t get fired, you prick’.” She pauses and turns to face Harry. “The ‘you prick’ was directed at me, that was still part of my thought,” she adds.

He throws his head back and laughs. Then he nods, still laughing lightly, “I get that. Sometimes I’m just so in my head and yesterday I was just so fuckin’ bored. Sorry if I got on your nerves.”

“Don’t mention it.” She waves her hand at him nonchalantly.

Then she moves to inspect his hands and notices the lack of rings, unlike yesterday when she had to make him take them off.

“You have amazing cuticles,” she notices and mentions without any pretences. Harry mutters his thanks, pursing his lips as he watches her work.

She stops her inspection and places the clipboard on the countertop in front of them.

“Could you take your necklaces off? I need to cover up half of the swallows and the years, for when you unbutton your shirt a bit.”

He wets his lips and nods, hands going to fiddle with the clasps behind his neck. He slips off one of the necklaces with ease, a yellow eye beaded necklace that he lays gently on the countertop next to the clipboard. Then he takes his cross and pulls it over his head, no clasp needed.

“Could I put some music on?” Harry asks after five minutes of Y/N working in silence and Harry only being able to stare either at himself, her work, or nowhere.

“I can,” she stops her work for a moment, “Can’t have you messing up the makeup before it sets. Otherwise I’d have to kill you.” Harry can’t be sure if she’s joking or not. Therefore, he was intent on not messing it up.

“Any requests?” She stands at the counter now, instead of seated on a stool working on Harry's left hand.

He shrugs, like he hasn’t got the faintest idea about good music. She refrains from rolling her eyes once again because she feels herself in a test. She wets her lips, sifting through different things in her Spotify and then lands on her playlist titled “it’s your song” named after Elton John’s song. It had some other musicians, a mix of Queen, Bowie, and more and she was sure she would pass the test.

She presses shuffle and She’s Always A Woman by Billy Joel begins to play over her laptop. Harry nods pleased and she wants to shake her head at him.

She can’t hold back the scoff though after a moment of going back to finishing his hand.

“What?” His British accent thickens with his annoyance growing.

“Nothing,” she chirps, intently putting the final touches on his wrist.

“Seriously. What?”

She stands and sets down the makeup. “Can you unbutton your shirt?” She made a note to herself that from now on she’d have to have him take his shirt off before setting to work because if his hands got messed up she’d have to start over. Thankfully he was already wearing a button up this morning.

He stares at her, offering no movement, just inquisitively waiting for her to respond to his original question.

She shuts her eyes, taking another deep breath and then bites at her lower lip. “It’s just...you’re so easy to read.” She fears adding anything else and moves towards him with the makeup hoping to encourage him to unbutton his shirt.

His right hand deftly pulls at the buttons as he regards her. His eyes are intent on her, she can see him clearly calculating her. Her green paisley button up tucked up into the back of her bra leaving a splay of her stomach. The semi-balloon sleeves cinched at the wrists leading to her slightly ringed hands. The oversized blue jeans that have no holes, just a tiny patch right next to the left pocket. The frayed ends of the pants laying over her rather pristine white old skool vans.

The Boxer fades in as she waits for him to finish the unbuttoning of the shirt. He’s still staring at her.

“Am I?” He finally inquires, voice pitched higher like he doesn’t believe her.

She gives him a serious stare and leans over him and adjusts the collar of his shirt. She adds paper towels to avoid makeup on his clothes.

“Yes!” She laughs, “And you don’t even think so, which is like...of course.”

He hums, tilting his head back as she sets to work on covering up the swallows. He wiggles his hands that now both rest on the arm chairs.

“I don’t see it.”

“Of course you don’t,” she glances at his face, their eyes meeting for a moment. “You’re Harry Styles. Everyone is in love with this image you created for yourself and it has just enough of your true self that people feel like they really know you, but you also maintain the illusion. So you think you’re this mysteriously amazing, not like the rest guy, but you are just like the rest of them. Obsessed with yourself and rich so you’re deemed eccentric rather than crazy for all the extravagant shit you do. So when you want me to play music and don’t offer any suggestions I know exactly what music I need to play for you to like me.”

“I feel like that last part says more about you than it does me,” he quirks a brow at her, straining his neck to look at her face as she continues to work.

She flushes, his response both better and worse than she expected. She had gotten a little carried away in her response and she had no idea why. She truly wasn’t one to go off on people so easily and especially not with someone she hardly knew, but something about Harry had her on edge. She was just thankful he hadn’t gotten mad at her response, instead he took it in stride. Further proving her point that he was extremely smart and did things purposefully and she saw right through it all.

She grumbles, “It says that all anyone has to do to get close to you is understand the smallest bit about you and you’ll let them in.”

“That is just so completely wrong, Y/N, I hate to break it to you.” It’s Harry rolling his eyes now, unable to move much more of his body as she continues painting on the concealer to remove his tattoos for the movie.

“Fine. Enlighten me on what I got wrong.”

Their argument had all but drowned out their music. They both did love this music and ironically if they would just shut their mouths, they’d probably like each other a lot more.

“Might as well,” he sighs. “First of all, my image is authentic and of course I don’t want to give myself all away. I enjoy my privacy and for everyone to truly know me I’d have to give that up. Which I’m not keen on. So, I regret to inform you but I am the same guy everyone is “in love with”. Second, I know I am a little self-involved, how else would I get here if I wasn’t constantly taking inventory of myself and reevaluating who I am. As a musician, I want to give as much of myself as possible or else it just feels inauthentic. And the extravagant thing, I can’t help that I like nice things and my job has allowed me to afford those things.”

He stops to take a deep breath and she’s working in stunned silence, in disbelief that Harry is even telling her any of this or that he’s spoken that much and so quickly. Wasn’t he notorious for speaking slowly with barely even a sentence worth of actual information. He sounds tired and frustrated, but also, surprisingly, sincere.

He continues, “The music thing. Maybe it was a test, but still it doesn’t mean I give everyone a mile when they say their favorite musicians match up with mine or something. I note that they either did their homework or might be an interesting person to get to know.”

“So which am I?” She widens her eyes.

“Obviously the second even if you’re also making it painfully clear that you don’t like me.”

“You’re smarter than I thought, Harry. I’ll give you that,” she smirks slyly, finishing up the bird coverage now.

He laughs. “Thanks,” he drawls out.

“And I admit that maybe you aren’t as easy to read as I made out, but I think we’re going to have to agree to disagree about the whole being your authentic self. I just don’t buy it. I can see your mind working constantly, you’re not one to just let yourself be free in public. And I’m not saying that’s a bad thing, I’m just saying, you shouldn’t pretend like that’s not what you’re doing.”

Her final thought leaves Harry silent. She pays no attention to his silence or at least she’s actively ignoring it. Instead she tunes back into the music that had gotten them back onto the wrong foot. This was going to be a long few months.

When she’s satisfied with her work, she has them sit there for thirty minutes to give it all time to set before Harry is off to hair and other makeup. They sit there listening to music. Neither of them have spoken again, except instructions from her and Harry’s hums of approval of songs.

Harry stands up after thirty minutes as she stays behind to pack up some items. Just as he’s about to step out of the door, he turns and calls her name.

“For the record, I don’t think you’re giving me a fair shot. You said yourself that you’re different every day. That every version of you, is you. So I hope you’ll give me the same allowance, every version of me is me. In this trailer, in my music videos, on tv, in interviews, in my free time. It’s all truly me.”

She bites her inner cheek as he ducks his head and exits the trailer, not allowing her any response.

“You’re late!”

“Meeting ran over with Nick and Olivia. Sorry,” Harry says as he begins to undress.

It’s the first day she has to cover all of his tattoos. It was going to take forever by all accounts. It had been two weeks since shooting had begun and she had gotten the simple hands and neck down to 45 minutes so she could only dread what his entire body would take.

“It’s fine,” she grumbles, knowing there wasn’t really anything else she could say about him coming late from a meeting with the director and producer.

Over the last two weeks, they hadn’t grown any fonder of one another. Not at all. They at least had gotten into a system though and she was grateful for that at least.

They showed up, Harry got in his chair, she set up the music, and they got to work. Harry would practice lines on some days and he’d tell her that before she turned on the music so there were no interruptions. Sometimes they talked about stuff on set or music or she’d give Harry his line when he was trying to be off script and forgot one. She wouldn’t classify it as pleasant, but they weren’t at each other throats like they were originally.

Trailer 6 had gotten a little homier as the weeks went by, too. Harry began leaving some of his stuff there and he started putting up silly drawings he would make while on set or polaroids people had taken with him while he was there. He tacked up napkins of restaurants that catered the set and wrote funny jokes and quotes on post it notes. His personal assistants sometimes brought in snacks while Y/N was still working and Harry always offered her some. They were usually healthy, but sometimes she’d eat some. Jeff, his manager, had also stopped by on occasion during his tattoo touch-ups that had become a thing after shooting days had grown longer.

On first meeting, Jeff had said, “Y/N? Harry mentioned you.”

She had turned to Harry with an arched brow and he had shrugged. When she looked back at Jeff she didn’t see Harry give Jeff one of the deadliest looks he could muster. She had grimaced and said “Well we spend enough time together for him to know my name. So thank god for that at least.”

They had all laughed and she had gotten back to work on Harry’s wrist.

Today, she needed Harry in his shorts. It was the first day of shooting where his character would be only in his boxers so she had to cover up all his visible tattoos. Olivia had told the makeup department they actually had to cover up his feet tattoos as well. She wanted him sockless in the scene and Y/N had groaned immediately when she made it to the trailer and Harry wasn’t already there.

“But please, for the sake of my job, strip, dude.” She says, arms crossed over her chest and leaning against the counter as she watched Harry set his things down. Her soft green striped cardigan is open, exposing the white tank top sitting underneath. Her bright green shorts hang loose on her, cinched at the waist and folded over once. Her white high top nike’s tap impatiently on the floor, waiting for Harry to get moving.

He nodded, truly feeling sorry for his tardiness, knowing today was a long day. He was anxious and tired. Acting was a different experience to music and he just was really trying his best.

As he began to take off his shirt, he laughed. His arms pulled the shirt over his head and when it popped out from beneath it, he repeated, “Strip, dude,” attempting to mimic her American accent.

He had practiced his American accent in front of her while running lines, but it had a 50’s drawl to it. His acting coach had been drilling him for weeks before shooting and he still liked to practice. The accent he had just down was far off from that and far off from hers too.

“Do not,” she warned.

“What?” He asks innocently and flutters his eyelashes.

She knows his game by now and she knows she should just ignore him. She knows this after fourteen days. She knows this after hours with him. She knows this, but then she’s opening her mouth and playing into his teases.

“Sorry, what’s a word you would know? Mate?” She tries for a British accent with the last word, knowing she can’t win this.

Harry snickers and scratches at his nose with his index finger before starting on taking off his pants. “You’re so Californian.”

“Thank you,” she chirps, moving to sit beside him now that he had settled.

“I like your shorts,” he muses, crossing his legs, likely a little cold.

She glances down at her cotton shorts that showed more of her thighs when she sat for a moment before returning her gaze to his left arm. The longest task of the day was this damn arm.

“Thanks,” she mumbles, “Wanted to be comfortable today. Knew it was gonna be long.”

A smile bubbles onto his face, his pink lips parting to reveal his shiny white teeth behind them. “So true.”

The music is low today. She had chosen Joni Mitchel’s Blue album for the first pick of the day. She had quickly learned Harry preferred listening to albums in order. It tended to make him less jumpy when the same artist came on multiple times like an album. So when she tried to play just an album one day, she found him more cooperative and less irritable.

After thirty minutes of work, she can’t stop noticing how shivery Harry is. It was late October in LA, so it was still warm, but admittedly the mornings could be a little chilly. His shivering was concerning for many reasons. Mainly he was messing up her work and concentration, but she also didn’t want him to get sick or something.

“Do you want me to see if they have a blanket and slippers or something? You look like you’re turning blue.”

Harry turns his attention to her. He had been reading over the script for today again. “That’d be great. I can call…” He trails off trying to think of the name of one of his assistants, but apparently he’s too scatterbrained for it. She assumed it was the hypothermia traveling to his brain already.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll walkie someone.” She says as she grabs the walkie talkie, flicking to the personal assistants channel.

“Hey,” she chirps happily. Harry noted how she talked to other people. So sweet, yet sincere. With him, it was serious and sincere but more biting, callous at times. Less so lately, but she definitely was sharper with him. He didn’t know if it even bothered him anymore. She was engaging if nothing else.

“Is someone free to bring two blankets and men’s slippers over to Trailer 6? I’ve got a naked Jack and I don’t want him freezing before I’m done covering up his tattoos.” She takes her finger off the talking button and glances sideways at him, “Who knows, maybe that would improve his acting. Y’know on second-thought-”

“Alright, alright,” Harry tries to grab for the walkie talkie, but she turns from him holding a finger up signalling him to wait as she listens for a response.

Someone says a simple “On it” and she turns off the walkie talkie and gets back to work.

“I took my finger off the speaker before I said the thing about your acting. Relax, Harry.” She says when he’s still glaring at her. “Just love to see you squirm.”

He shakes out his short chestnut hair, some of it falling over his forehead. Instinctively, she reaches up without even looking and smooths it back. Like she was tucking her own hair out of her eyes, but instead it was Harry’s. She decided to say nothing and was relieved when Harry didn’t say anything either.

She finishes his forearm and moves to his outer upper arm. The rose holds her attention when the PA knocks on the door and she has to race to get it. Nothing could stop her from moving on this work. It was already an hour in and she wanted to scream.

She swings open the door and she wants to die. It was Autumn. Her least favorite PA, of course. She was insufferable and obsessed with Harry. Which was not why Y/N found Autumn insufferable. There were so many more reasons. So many. But that particular character flaw didn’t help her case either. Y/N tried to just take the blankets and slippers from Autumn, but the woman insisted that she come in.

“I’ve got it,” Y/N says.

“No, don’t want you to get makeup on anything,” Autumn’s saccharine voice grinds at her ears and she contemplates cutting them off.

Harry sat in his chair, legs crossed, nodding along to the music, his script discarded on the counter in front of him.

“Hi Harry!” Autumn practically yells, walking right up to him.

Y/N takes a deep breath at the door, letting it swing shut. She bites her lower lip as an attempt to bite her tongue as she walks back to her set-up. The set-up Autumn was conveniently blocking.

“Hello, Autumn,” Harry says kindly, making eye contact with her. “How’re you today?”

“So great! So great! Thanks for asking. How are you?” She points a finger at him like she might poke him and Harry squirms away from her a bit. She, of course, doesn’t notice this.

“Well, thanks.” His eyes flicker to Y/N, who is standing behind Autumn, hands on her hips and attempting not to tap her foot. His tone is clearly dismissive, but Autumn must ignore it. Y/N knows Autumn isn’t as helpless as she tries to come off.

Autumn asks, “Where do you want these?”, gesturing to the two blankets and slippers stacked on top.

“Just on the counter is fine, thanks,” Harry says.

Autumn does as he says and then stands there with baited breath. Y/N’s not sure what she’s expecting. For Harry to ask for her hand in marriage or something? But he just glances between the two women. His own foot begins wiggling in impatience.

“Busy day,” He attempts at dismissing her once again - with kindness.

“Oh my gosh, totally!” Autumn gushes, starting to go off on all of the tasks she has to do. She stands so close to Harry, Y/N genuinely thinks she’s going to sit in his lap. Y/N stares up to the ceiling, begging god or whoever to end her misery right there and then.

Harry sees Y/N’s expression and tries to maintain the neutral expression he’s had for the entirely too long interaction. A smile threatens at his rosey lips that had chapped from the morning air.

“Right, well,” he cuts off Autumn, “Y/N needs to get back to tattoo coverage, I think. So...have a nice day.”

Autumn’s eyes widen like she forgot that there was anyone else in the room and steps back from Harry. Y/N nods, a grimace clear on her face. Autumn gives her the same small she used to get from the popular girls in high school when she happened to be talking to their cool guy friend that they wanted to be more than friends with. Sickeningly sweet and completely fake. She could see the contempt in Autumn’s eyes that swirled just beneath the surface of her perfectly outlined green-ish eyes.

“Okay! You too, Harry!” She begins walking to the door and Y/N takes her seat again, closing her eyes and counting to ten. “And Y/N,” Autumn adds as an afterthought.

“Oh my fucking god,” Y/N sighs, her hands going to rub over her face and through her hair. “That was exhausting. Jesus Christ.”

“What? She’s nice. Maybe a little clueless,” Harry counters. “But she was so nice,” he confirms again, seemingly trying to convince himself of it as well.

She grabs the slippers and slips them on the ground so Harry can put them on easily. Then one of the blankets that she drapes over Harry’s bottom half. He smiles at the gesture, a ‘thank you’ said in a whisper.

“Please, she knows what she’s doing,” Y/N scoffs, “And she’s obsessed with you!” She grabs the concealer to get back to work, “She was all over you and never took her eyes off of your body. It was like she wanted to touch you or something. It was icky.”

“You touch me,” Harry adds cheekily, adjusting beneath the warm blanket.

She laughs, a smile gracing her lips as she gives Harry a look. He was clever.

“It’s my job to touch you, Harry.”

Harry had really tried to not laugh, but it was just so funny. They both snicker, their eyes meeting for a moment longer than usual.

“Speaking of my job,” she adds after controlling her laughter, “Does she not realize just how long it takes to cover all of your bloody tattoos with this shit to make it look like you’re a pristine skinned 50’s psycho killer?”

She finishes the rose coverup and moves to the ship. Harry nods solemnly.

“It’s true...And it doesn’t help that you’re terrible at it, so it takes a thousand years longer than it should.” He adds, laughter overtaking his serious tone at the end.

“Oh my god!” She shrieks in delight, trying not to mess up her work, “That is so rude! I messed up one time - mostly because of you, by the way. And give me a break, this is so not what I thought I’d be doing as a makeup artist for movies.”

He nods again, muttering “Fair, fair.”

They grow silent, enjoying Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, the album that she had queued after Joni’s.

“The body thing, I just learned to ignore it, I think.” Harry mutters, eventually, but it’s thoughtless, like he’s not revealing anything about himself with the statement. But it kind of shocks her. Her eyes widen and she stops her work to stare at his face.

“Harry,” she waits till his eyes meet hers, “That’s, like, not normal. Are you serious?”

“I mean, I’m very comfortable with my body, like I haven’t minded the last 45 minutes of sitting practically nude in front of you. And I have plenty of revealing photos out in the world. I just don’t notice staring anymore, it’s not, I don’t think it’s what you’re thinking,” he tries to reassure her. His eyes are intent on hers, full of seriousness that hadn’t been there a few moments ago.

“It’s one thing to be comfortable in your skin and another to be desensitized to objectification,” she insists.

He nods. “I know. Thank you. I would let you know if what she had done had bothered me, so don’t worry. I felt completely safe the whole time.”

“Good,” she nods back and concentrates again. “Good,” she repeats once more under her breath. There had been way too many distractions already today and she wasn’t even done with his arm yet.

As she continues to work up his arm, Harry sings along to some of the songs on Elton’s album. He happily taps his feet to the different beats, now safely tucked in soft fluffy slippers. She would never admit just how amazing it is to be in the same room as Harry’s singing. It was truly special to be less than a foot from him and hear him sing just under the unique voice of Elton - who was someone he actually knew, which was equally as cool.

He hit every note and knew every word. She was impressed. How could she not be when a literal rockstar sat before her? This was the first time she was truly starstruck by her charge, Mr. Harry Styles.

By two hours, they had moved onto an album by Dolly Parton and they were both singing. They strangely had no fights today, maybe some snarky comments from both of them, but no outright mean-spirited words were exchanged.

She stood in front of Harry, finishing up the swallows. She had finished both arms and the birds, all she had left was moving down his body. Up next, the butterfly.

“I love this tattoo,” she mumbles, twisting Harry’s standing body to face her and taking her seat again. This left her eye to eye with the butterfly on his stomach.

He makes a surprised face and raises his recently plucked eyebrow at his counterpart. “Oh really?”

“Don’t act so surprised. I told you day one that not all of them are rubbish and honestly they’re all pretty cool. I just was so annoyed that I had gotten tattoo coverage as my job and then I had to go and index them all.” She flicks her eyes up to his sculpted face and sees he’s watching her work. “Plus, I have some butterflies of my own, remember?” She grins.

“Yeah,” he ponders her words, “I don’t think that’d put me in a good mood either.”

He pauses again and she continues to work silently.

“So what’s your excuse for the second day then?”

“You provoked me,” she doesn’t spare him a glance, shrugging like it was the simplest answer in the world.

“Pardon?”

“Let’s not go down this road again, Harry.” She sighs, smoothing over the freshly covered butterfly tattoo. His sternum looked so naked, it was unnerving. Now the ferns.

Harry involuntarily shivered when her fingers traced over the ferns lightly, taking note of the expanse of skin she’d have to cover.

“You’re right,” he agrees, “But agree to disagree on the provocation.”

“Sure,” she says curtly, focusing on his skin and her job.

The expanse of skin that the ferns inhabited was slightly fleshy and especially soft. It bordered where his boxers began and she ignored that part of his body completely. It was of no importance to her and she really had no issue blocking it from her vision, even when it was right in front of her. She finishes one fern with Harry jumping only twice from her cold hands. He couldn’t put his robe on until the makeup had all set for half an hour so he’d have to be cold for possibly another hour still.

She traces the fern that is still visible and Harry shivers. She instinctively shushes him softly and his body quiets. As she works, her hair splays around her shoulders and Harry looks down at her working and doesn’t realize what his hand is doing until it’s too late. His right hand runs over her hair, smoothing it out of her face. It was rarely ever down, so it must have been the novelty of it.

“Sorry, I-” he chokes out when he jerks his hand back.

She sits back, slightly taken aback. Her body flushes just from their positioning and what a hair caress would mean normally in this position, but she’s a professional and she shakes it off.

“It’s fine. We’re even.” She assures him, breaking eye contact with his own wide eyes. “Seems like we’re both hair touchers.”

“It’s just so soothing,” Harry muses. “I think it’s human instinct to touch other people’s hair since it’s so enjoyable for yourself.”

“Possibly,” her voice raises, his thought was definitely plausible. Or maybe they were just two touch starved people who were very much in each other’s personal space 24/7.

At the two and a half hour marker, she gets a walkie message from Olivia’s assistant asking when they’d be done. She had just finished the tiger tattoo, which had been surprisingly easy. It took a while, but Harry didn’t shiver once and neither of them pet each other’s hair.

“Probably 40 minutes, sorry. He has a lot of tattoos and the makeup needs to set.” She says seriously and gets back to work, barely regarding the response of “Yeah it’s fine, just wanted an estimate”.

“Jesus,” Harry moans as she covers up his knee tattoos.

She groans in veiled disgust, “Did I just hit a secret erogenous zone? Is that why you have ‘oui’ there, you creep?” There’s a teasing tone behind the nickname she uses.

Harry laughs and runs his hand over his face, pulling at his jaw and lower lip. His jaw is so sharp, she watches him adjust it. “No, no. I’m just so goddamn tired of this.”

“And it’s not your fault,” he adds, feeling bad immediately after he said it. “It’s actually been nice today, but I’m feeling antsy, like I need to move. I don’t like to sit still.”

“I know,” she says under her breath. She simply nods in agreement.

Finally, the tattoos are all covered up and set. They had talked about George Michael when she got to his ankle tattoos that she hadn’t seen before and they laugh about the tattoos and chat a bit more. She helps him slip on his robe that he keeps in his closet in the trailer and then follows him out of it. They had decided they were hungry and he had been pushed back an hour since he had taken so long, so he had a free half-hour.

As they walked to craft services, they talked about actual things besides work. She was pleasantly surprised by what Harry talked about. It was more than music or the movie. It was the tv show he was currently obsessed with and how he hated LA’s traffic the most out of all of his dislikes for the city. She couldn’t help but grin at his Los Angeles slander. She loved this side of him.

Breakfast together after finishing his tattoo coverage became their regular thing. He would come into the trailer, racing from his morning meeting accompanied with tea for two, they’d get his tattoos covered as quickly as possible, and then they’d eat together.

They’d save their “in-depth” chats for breakfast. In early November, he joked about No Nut November and insisted he really wouldn’t have a problem with it - which had made her laugh. They worried together over the U.S. presidential election and meditated together in his trailer to Fleetwood Mac.

Around late November, Harry had requested that Y/N just do his face makeup as well, just to simplify his life a little more and the department had agreed easily. She had to spend extra time on set getting lectured on how to properly do Harry’s makeup, but after two days she stopped getting notes about it. She was so extremely proud and thankful to Harry for doing that.

All he said was: “I mean, you’re extremely talented so I’m not scared of you fucking up my face. Plus, it does make my life easier. Two birds with one stone.”

In late November, he told her about his favorite holiday drinks at Starbucks and what he was getting his mother for Christmas.

When the Vogue cover came out, he laughed over that woman who responded to his cover saying the world needed to bring back manly men. He joked that he was going to really push that from now on, that he was a manly man, and he would sputter with laughter every time he tried to say it with a straight face.

He hand delivered her a special ‘Treat People With Kindness’ sweatshirt that he only had for the cast and crew of the film. Most everyone got them from a PA, but Harry decided since you saw him first in the morning, why not.

He told her about him winning Hitmaker of the Year from Variety when he had left the award sitting in Trailer 6 and about how weird it was to film acceptance speeches in an empty room. His smile had lit up the entire set that day and the day he did his interview on set. He was so smiley she had to bump him with her elbow because he wouldn’t stop smiling at her and it was unnerving.

“Stop that,” She muttered.

“Stop what?” He smiles wider.

“That!” She squeaked, her head shaking as she ducked it to regard his anchor tattoo. “You’re smiling too much.”

“Oh no,” he says sarcastically, “God forbid I be happy.”

“It’s not that,” she bumps his thigh with her elbow, trying to keep her own smile off her face, “Your face is just so intense when you smile. Feels like you’re gonna burn a hole through me.”

He laughs, completely unconvinced, “You just don’t want me to be happy is what I’m hearing.”

She rolls her eyes, “Whatever, dude.”

She saw he was serious about the ‘manly men’ references when the Variety photos came out and everyone and their mom posted the pictures with some variation of that comment as their caption.

She still found that she rolled her eyes at some of the things Harry did, but she genuinely counted him as a friend by the time December had rolled around.

Over three hours, almost always completely alone, doing work for a job you both care deeply about can really make or break a relationship. And that first full-body coverage day had made them stronger together. After that, Harry and her would banter with one another, but there was never anything intentionally cruel. Just friends giving each other shit sometimes. Harry had been right, he had changed her mind about him. And she had realized that that was who Harry was. He was a deliverer. If you didn’t like him at first, he would try and try again until you did, but he did it in a way that wasn’t weasley or anything. It was terribly genuine and she saw it in every relationship he had on set.

On several occasions she had witnessed his friendship with Nick Kroll. A man she had regarded with dislike before the film. She had quickly realized that dislike was misplaced, but she maintained that it was just because she hated adult cartoons - citing that she literally refused to be friends with any person who willingly watched the Simpsons, Family Guy, and/or American Dad and all of those similar shows.

Nick was far nicer and less weird than she had realized. So she quickly shot her friend from high school an apology text for all the Nick Kroll slander she had spouted back in the day. Her friend had rejoiced but also said how jealous she was that Y/N got to see him regularly on set.

Nick and Harry got along great. Harry generally got along better with older people, she noticed when she was introduced to his friends on the somewhat frequent occasion. Trailer 6 was where Y/N saw most of these reactions take place. She would be introduced in the first minute and then she would smile politely and get back to the work of covering up Harry’s numerous tattoos.

Harry would say something simple and Nick, the literal famous comedian, would laugh. In the beginning she’d raise a brow, confused because it truly wasn’t that funny, but as Harry’s friend now, she kept her mouth shut.

Nick would come and sit on the couch while she’d work and eventually all three of them would chat. Sometimes she would get up to go to the bathroom during those morning chats and she would look in the mirror and think to herself “How are you casually talking to these two men right now” and then she’d think “Because you are a boss ass bitch, you got this” and go back out there with a smile on her face.

“Y/N, what are you doing tonight?” Nick asked on the first Friday morning of December.

She looks up from Harry’s cross tattoo that was half covered. Harry was reading, a book casually propped in his right hand and glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. He glanced at the other two in the room. Nick had been getting some work done before he had spoken.

“No plans,” she states simply before getting back to work. It wasn’t full body today, but it was arms and torso, so kind of a lot still.

“You should come over for dinner at my place with Harry,” Nick smiles kindly. His scruff was really coming in today. “To celebrate us almost wrapping the first half of the movie.”

Harry had thankfully freshly shaved before he sat down. It was her least favorite part of her new job. Whenever he came in for touch ups and she had to shave his afternoon shadow. She was terrified she’d cut him and never live it down from her department or Harry. She had no idea which would be worse.

“My wife will be there too, of course,” he adds, hoping to entice her to say yes.

Harry glances between Y/N and Nick again before focusing on his book again.

She purses her lips, finishing Harry’s hand and moving onto the anchor tattoo. “Yeah, I mean, I don’t know why I’d say no. As long as I’m not intruding on the throuple,” she grins up at Harry.

He stares at her with his big green eyes, slightly obscured behind his prescription glasses. He raises his brows and wiggles them a little bit, teasingly.

Nick laughs and slyly winks at Harry through the mirror. Y/N none the wiser as she removes all traces of Harry’s tattoos.

“Great!” He claps his hands and stands up. “We’ll talk or I’ll make sure Harry gets you the info or something. I don’t know, but we’ll figure it out. My wife’s been wanting to meet you,” he smiles again and walks out of the trailer.

She tilts her head at the last part. He talked about her to his wife. Did he really count her as that close of a friend? She was just a makeup artist and he was a producer… She glances at Harry and he gives away nothing. His jaw looks extra prominent and she knows it’s because he’s clenching it. He did that when he was focused or angry, remembering it bulging on the first day they met and how clenched it had been then.

“Unclench your jaw,” she mutters, “It’s not good for you.”

Harry hums and unclenches it.

He stretches his neck by rolling his head around his shoulders and she glances at the movement. His skin is still beautifully sun-kissed and his pores look so soft, only his moles change the texture of his skin. She loves his moles though, they make him especially unique in her eyes. Not that he needed anything else to set him apart from the crowd. Still, she loved them. His collarbone is prominent as he sits there shirtless and she wishes she could reach out and brush at it. But she gets back to work, knowing the only time she’s gonna be brushing near that part of him is when she’s covering dates in those dips behind his collarbones.

“Y’know, I could just drive you to Nick’s tonight,” Harry says, putting his book down and taking off his glasses. He rubs at his eye with his free hand.

“You’re blind and British, how do I know you can even drive yourself?” She asks sillily, pointing to his glasses.

He shakes his head, “I’m serious, Y/N. Aren’t you staying in the same area as me?”

He asks because they had relocated to Palm Springs a little while ago and everyone had gotten rentals and it was hard to remember where everyone was holed up when they weren’t on set.

“Yeah, think so. But you don’t need to pick me up. I have a car.”

“Nonsense. I’ve been to his place before, don’t want you to have to deal with directions, that’s just silly.”

“I guess...” she resigns relatively easily. She had never hung out with Harry off the set or Nick for that matter. It felt surreal, but she knew the right answer was usually just say yes in these situations. So that’s what she says. “Yes, that’d be great, thank you,” she confirms and watches as Harry’s eyes glimmer softly before turning back to his book. A triumphant soft smirk rests on his face.

The words die out between the two of them as she works on. He hums along to the music and continues reading his book. When she’s done with his tattoo coverage and his face makeup, she sends him off to hair and the rest of his day. He gives a flirty wink as he walks out the door and she rolls her eyes in response. She tidies up her kit and then goes to do some other makeup work.

When she wasn’t working with Harry, she was assigned to some of the minor characters and doing their makeup. They were always her second concern, especially now that she did Harry’s makeup as well as his tattoos. As she works on them, she can feel her mind drifting to Harry. Harry and how they were friends now. She was pretty sure, right? They were friends. He had never really said a mean thing to her if she really thought about it. It was her… She had been rude and mean-spirited and he had just taken it. He rarely had even thrown it back at her. He was so good to her and patient and she realized that he had proven to her that he was good. He was better than good, he was kind and loving. Considerate. Wonderful. All of those positive superlatives, Harry filled them. And she had the audacity to be mean to him.

She paused the brush that was adding blush to an actresses cheek.

Lisa, the actress, looks at Y/N confusedly, “What’s wrong?”

Y/N twitches her head, refocusing on her task at hand. The realization of her pausing her work becomes clear as she looks between her hand and the cheek that has not enough blush on it. “Oh,” she breathes. “...I just realized that I was terrible to someone who doesn’t have a mean bone in their body.”

Lisa nods, “Apologize.”

“Yeah, I mean...We’ve kind of moved past the phase where we don’t get along. Like now we’re friends, but the realization just really hit me.” She sighs, picking up where she left off on Lisa’s makeup. “I’ll make sure to apologize next time I see them.”

Lisa smiles.

At the end of the day, Y/N realizes she left her tattoo coverage kit in Harry’s room after their touch-up session halfway through the day. She had run off to help with a makeup emergency for a tiny cut on a minor character’s face and forgotten to go back and grab her things. Another roll of her eyes and a huff of breath and then she’s walking back to Trailer 6, a place that seemed like a home away from home now. She knocks, patiently waiting at the bottom of the steps.

Harry swings open the door and props it with his hip. He’s got a toothbrush held in his mouth, slowly scrubbing back and forth with his left hand. His costume is somewhat taken off, he’s still got the pants on with suspenders hanging down, his chest was completely bare and he looked funny with some of his tattoos only being half covered based on what parts of his skin had been showing today. Her work. His skin looked half silky smooth and half tattooed like usual.

His naked skin seemingly left her breathless because as her eyes returned to Harry’s face, she breathed a soft, “Hi.”

“Hey,” a smirk twists onto his face. “Forget something?”

“Yes,” she nods, coming back to her senses and entering the trailer at Harry’s gesture.

She begins to pack up the kit that had been left haphazardly strewn around on his counter. “I’m sorry I left a mess like this, I got called over to something else and forgot.”

“Don’t worry darling,” Harry grins at his joke.

She looks up from her work and sees Harry in the reflection of the mirror. He’s wiping off the makeup from his chest and his beautiful tattoos reemerge as entire images.

She laughs humorlessly, “It gets less funny each time you use that.”

“That’s not true,” he looks at her through the mirror now, his green eyes trained on her face, “Everyone else still thinks it’s hilarious.”

“They’re humoring you and your fragile ego,” she winks and watches as Harry’s smirk twitches from his perfect face.

“You’ve got a very mean disposition, you know that?” He asks.

He finishes his chest and moves to remove the makeup from his left arm, glancing at the mirror every so often to check himself and to flicker his eyes over Y/N’s face.

She genuinely laughs at that, but scolds herself internally for being mean when she had planned to apologize the next time she saw Harry. This was the next time so why was she doing this instead?

“Rewrite sweet disposition for me?” Her voice honeyed. Clearly stubborn and terrible at saying sorry...maybe her and Harry were a better match than she realized.

Harry twists his lips as he slips on his t-shirt he was wearing today.

“Pick you up at 6:30?” He says as his head pops out from beneath the rainbow striped sweatshirt he slipped on top of the shirt. His chestnut hair had been toweled out and was flopping over his forehead slightly.

She sighs and zips close the kit, standing from the seat she had taken at his counter and turning to face him now.

“6:30 is perfect. Thanks again for doing this. I just can’t believe Nick Kroll is inviting me over for dinner!” She smiles, shifting to lean against the counter as she waits for Harry to finish up. She didn’t have to but for some reason she felt like she was in no rush.

“Are you serious?” He’s moved on to changing his pants now and he’s slipping on black sweatpants.

“Yeah…” She blinks and her eyes widen as Harry appraises her expression.

He straightens up after fixing a cuff on the pants and he can’t tell if she’s being genuine or sarcastic. It was always so hard to tell with her.

“I mean, Nick Kroll is like a huge celebrity and I know in the entertainment business you’re not supposed to get starstruck but when I was in college my sister thought he was weirdly hot and my friends and I would shit talk him. I don’t know, it’s just kind of surreal to be having dinner at his place. Like I’ve watched him on tv and now I’ll be eating with him...so weird.”

He shakes his head, beginning on his dirty vans now. A small laugh escapes his mouth and he glances between her and his shoe, scratching his head quickly. “I still can’t tell… It feels like you’re fucking with me right now.”

“I’m not!” She insists, her hands coming out in front of her in a confused fashion. “I used to watch that guy’s tv show then he’s my boss now he’s inviting me over for food? It’s a lot to process.”

“How come it’s not surreal to be having dinner with me then?” He asks semi-joking, a hint of offense tinged within it. It’s visible only in his knitted brow and twisted lip.

“Careful there, sailor. Venturing into some dangerously self-absorbed waters.” Her eyes light up, a quick raise of her brows accompany the shine, and she decides now is her time to head out. Especially as she thinks about getting ready for this soiree tonight. She needed to shower and pick out an outfit with less than two hours to prepare.

Harry sputters at her response and fumbles with his pink shoelace. “That’s not...that is - You’re being unfair. My question is valid.”

She shrugs her shoulders and skirts Harry’s attempt at grabbing at her arm to stop her from leaving. “Okay, Mr. Big Man On Campus. I promise you you’re the most popular boy in school.”

She blows him a kiss and walks out the door as he attempts to get her to come back by calling her name a few times and slightly shouting “C’mon! I wasn’t being insecure. That was a reasonable ask…”

He sighs and shakes his head again. Every interaction would end with one of them either rolling their eyes or shaking their head and usually a sigh on both of their lips. It was exhausting, but exhilarating too.

20 minutes later, Harry receives a text from Y/N: “You’re still picking me up right :))) ?”

He’s in his car, getting ready to finally leave after getting held up with last minute schedule changes that he had to be informed about by some PA that he had forgotten the name of. His lip quirks to the right and he closes his eyes for a second enjoying seeing her name on his phone screen for a moment.

He types back: “Of courseeee”.

“Fab.” She sends back, immediately followed by: “Fanks BMOC ;)”

A full smile rolls onto Harry’s face after he swipes his tongue over his lower lip. “Yeah, yeah, save it for the next guy” he types out quickly before throwing his phone gently beside him and driving back to his apartment. She made him feel young, not that he wasn’t young, but generally his friends didn’t text like she did.

At 6:28, she receives a text from Harry Styles - his name in her phone. A name she had never expected to see in her phone unless her Spotify was on shuffle. Yet, instead, his name popped up under messages and it read “Here!” followed by a quick “I think” and then a phone call coming through from the apparently anxious man himself.

“Hello Harry.” Her tone even. She throws little items into her purse, making sure everything she needs is there.

“Could you peek out your window? I’m not quite sure I’m at the right place and people are staring…” nerves laced in his rushed tone.

She ambles to the window and opens up the shade she had closed to change. Below her, she sees a sleek black Range Rover with a slightly disarrayed hairdo and big dark glasses peeking below the windshield. She ignored the instinct to retch at the sight of the Range Rover and peered at the lamp lit sight below her. It was definitely Harry, but she searched for the prying eyes he was worried about and saw none. Well, maybe a few, but it wasn’t a lot.

“I see you, I’ll be right out, dude. Just deep breaths, it’s mostly crew staying here right now so they’re just seeing that it’s you, another guy they work with. They won’t come up for pictures...I would hope.”

She hangs up with no farewell, snatches her purse from its place on the bed and races out the door. Harry smiles anxiously at her when she stands next to the passenger’s door and he unlocks it. She bites her lip and raises her brows, waiting to hear if anything terrible happened in the minute and a half it took her to come downstairs and out to the car.

“Hi,” he exhales.

A smirk crawls onto her features and her eyes sparkle with a bit of a childish glee that normally she didn’t exhibit as she glances at him. “Hi.” She says quietly. “Alright big boy?”

“‘M fine.” He huffs but balks at her smile that she maintains while she stares at him. “What?”

“Just happy to see you, I guess,” her smile returns after speaking and Harry glances between her face and the windshield in front of him.

He can’t tell if she’s being serious or not once again. But he fears that conversation of her either ridiculing him for thinking she is serious or being offended that he still can’t tell. Instead, he will keep his mouth shut. For the most part.

“Happy to see you, too,” his lips create a closed mouth smile quickly before turning out of the parking lot.

She watches him. Their first time together outside of work. And they were friends. She needed to get used to simply thinking that. He picked her up to take her to dinner with her other friend and his wife. This was normal life, just with big names behind those terms of relation. Jesus, she always said it didn’t bother her to be around celebrities so why did she think about it so damn much?

She twitches her head and refocuses on Harry and his driving. His jaw is clenched again and she wants to reach out and sooth it herself. Instead she starts to open her mouth to correct him, but stops herself from that as well. They weren’t at work and it didn’t feel like something just a friend would say right now. She refocuses on the view of his eyes that are barely visible while he regards the road. His large eyes that she had grown acquainted to are surveying what he’s doing, every so often drifting to the right side of the road to check out the lane beside him. But then, always back to right in front of him, leaving a crescent of green visible to her.

“Can feel you staring at me…” His voice sounds like it’s rolled around in gravel after the long work day. It makes her wonder if he’s supposed to have a vocal rest when he’s not at work, but then again it’s the weekend now so maybe it was fine. Maybe she should ask him. Or maybe she should stop worrying so much about him.

“Have I got something on my face?” His low register bumps her from her racing thoughts. He doesn’t take his eyes off the road, but she can see he’s widened his eyes in wonder.

“No! Of course not, I just was...making sure you weren’t going to crash us or something.” She grasps at straws, desperate to not be caught by Harry.

A low chuckle bubbles from his chest and he spares a small glance over at her bundled up in his passenger seat. She matches his gaze with something of distrust hidden behind her eyes. She hopes to convey that she’s being silly and when Harry turns back to look at the road unassumingly, she feels like she has won. The harmonies of the beginning of a Queen song take over the silence, Harry’s spindly fingers thrumming against the wheel.

They arrive at the Kroll’s Palm Springs residence at 6:50. 10 minutes early and the two twiddle their thumbs for a few minutes, trying to pass the time and not intrude earlier than they were supposed to. She appreciated that Harry liked to be timely but not early, similar to how she was.

“So what is the fascination with Range Rovers?” She queries, leaning against the door’s armrest. The back of her head touches against the semi-tinted window.

Harry shifts in his seat, seat belt no longer constricting him and no road requiring his attention as they sit in the driveway. He rushes a hand through his hair and lets a single strand of hair fall over his prominent forehead.

“Dunno,” he shrugs his shoulders and allows a hand to fall onto the steering wheel absentmindedly. “I don’t really prefer them anymore, but when I’m in LA and doing work, it makes things easier. My other cars are a little flashier...have more privacy in this.”

“Yet the effect is similar,” she muses.

Her head tilts to take in Harry’s appearance, sharp black silky button-up and dark green plaid slacks, and she rubs a hand over her jaw. His eyes flicker to the movement and attempt to really take it in, even in the dim glow of the lamp light outside barely peeking into the dark interior of the car.

“Effect?”

“Y’know…” She arches her brow at him. He feigns innocence or possibly the expression is genuine. She’s begun to realize Harry was as genuine as they came, but she just didn’t think he was that unaware. An assumption that was likely correct, but even Harry liked to pretend he was a completely unassuming individual.

“Forget it,” she finishes when he gives no indication that he knows what she is hinting at. She doesn’t want to get into it with him again. Especially when he plays at this game where he has no idea what she’s talking about. It made her feel like she was crazy for thinking he made these calculated decisions to get his desired outcomes.

They move on, neither of them quite sure what the other was getting at in that conversation. The two of them walk into the house a minute before their expected arrival time side by side and are greeted happily with Nick and his wife. They’re ushered in and Y/N is happily received by the happy couple.

“So, Y/N, how’s it been for you working with these two? I know they can be more than a handful - especially together,” Nick’s wife, Lily, asks after a sip of wine.

The group of four had been eating for a while with Nick and Harry bantering for quite a bit at the beginning about whether or not Harry would be willing to hand feed Nick. The answer was settled at “another time”.

Harry seems to have a very specific habit of watching whoever is speaking - no matter what. So after Lily has finished speaking, his gaze flickers to Y/N, the person his brain expects to speak next. He watches her attentively as she wipes her mouth on her napkin before speaking.

Her hair was styled differently tonight than it usually was on set, she had it down rather than up in a ponytail or braids. He hadn’t had time to really look at her when they had been in the car, his mind occupied with stress and exhaustion that he refocused into driving and deep breathing. Now, in the comfort of a trusted friend’s home, he was far more relaxed and able to truly take in her appearance, which he couldn’t help but think was beautiful. He’d have to tell her that at some point. That he thought she was beautiful. Not that he didn’t see her on set and think she was beautiful...he just hadn’t really thought about it before. She was his wily makeup artist who was critical of him most times, but occasionally sweet, who had an amazing taste in music and good aesthetic style. The beauty part of it all, he guessed wasn’t something integral to their relationship before.

But now he was sitting beside her at the Kroll’s nice dining table and she had her hair splayed in front and behind her shoulders with one side tucked behind her ear and her outfit fit her impeccably. The top she had on had capped sleeves that cinched with buttons at her delicate wrists and a severe drop to create a small sweetheart neckline just above the curve of her breasts. It was silky and shiny, a blush pink that complemented the high waisted dark grey slacks that flared over shiny black boots that he wasn’t sure where they ended beneath the pants.

“Well,” she starts, chuckling under her breath when she meets Harry’s stare, “Harry and I spend a lot of time together, covering up all his tattoos, and he yaps a lot. So, it’s actually pretty refreshing when Nick comes in, because Harry’s then talking half the normal amount.”

He huffs a scoff, while Lily and Nick laugh happily. Nick interjects an “ouch” for the bite she just took out of Harry, but she thought it was fine, he can take it.

Harry thought to himself that if she can serve it, then she can definitely take it. His eyes remain on her as he opens his mouth to speak, but then look at Lily when words actually come out. “Well, Y/N, she thinks she can read people really well, but it’s actually quite the opposite. She had me completely wrong when we first met, so I talk now in hopes that she’ll really understand me.”

His head tilts to her when he mentions her name, but otherwise doesn’t glance her way away again. He scrunches his nose at the end of his comment, implying he converses with her out of pity.

It’s her turn to scoff and stare at him unamused. Nick and Lily share a look, unsure of what was going on, they had concocted this dinner date idea in hopes to set the two up but the way this conversation was going, they seemed to be pushing each other further and further away from one another.

“That’s simply not true,” she says curtly and takes a sip of her quickly emptying wine glass.

“Which part?”

“Almost all of it, I’d say,” her eyes glaring back at him, fiery with a disdain he hadn’t seen in awhile. “You’re proving my original perception of you with every passing second,” she adds.

“Care to elaborate exactly what the original perception of me was for the class,” his eyes are wide and wild, any extra adoration he had started to feel towards her slipping away just as quickly as it had come, like a wave along the beach.

“You know, so why don’t you?”

“I want to hear you say it,” he grits out the command.

She shifts in her seat, glancing at Nick and Lily who are watching on and she has a feeling she won’t be getting an invitation again anytime soon. Lily gives her a semi-reassuring smile like she was sorry to have asked the question at all, but Y/N knows this is kind of her fault, not that she would ever admit that. Her comment could have been taken innocuously, but Harry’s pride wouldn’t let it slide. Like she said, she should have known better, the weeks of friendship were flying out the window and she was helping them along.

“And what if I don’t?”

“Have fun calling an uber at this time of night,” he shrugs, malice dripping in his tone.

She truly was taken aback at this. A slight sound of shock leaving her mouth. Harry was many things, impatient and anxious usually, but downright cruel with her, she had yet to see it. Arrogant and pompous, definitely, but this wickedness that was starting to creep from the shadows worried her. But the little fiery demon within her wasn’t going anywhere either - yet she might back down to save herself some money and hassle.

“Fine,” she raises her brows in a challenge to him and restates her original take on him - possibly adding a bit extra malice in her phrasing, “You are a shell of a man, held up by the people around you, creating the illusion of a completely genuine and down to earth rocker who dabbles in acting, philanthropy and all around goodness. No one’s ever had a bad experience because no one’s ever truly met you. Not the real you.” She takes a deep breath as she shakes her head in disbelief now, a sarcastic laugh leaving her mouth, “And I thought, I really thought, that I had been wrong. Because these past months you really fooled me with your sweet smile and deep eyes. But when it comes down to it, you tricked me just like everyone else.”

Harry stares at her blankly and she shakes her head once more, feeling foolish. For thinking Harry was someone he wasn’t. For thinking the past few months had been real. For thinking that tonight would go off without a hitch. And the shit part of it was that she had really hoped that all of it was true. She wanted this to be her life, but her instincts had been right. Beware of the picture perfect because it always is just a mirage of deceit and lies.

“All I’ve got to say is you’re a damn good actor Harry, so at least you’ve got that going for you.” Then she pushes back from the table and stands, turning to Nick and Lily. “I really am so sorry, I understand that you probably want me to leave, so I’ll just be going,” her voice faltering at the end, she wasn’t as strong as she liked to pretend and she was pretty sure she just ruined her chances of working again in Hollywood. You’d have to be an idiot to be an enemy of Harry Styles and she feels like she just became his first.

“No!” Nick says quickly, standing too, “I think things just escalated really quickly and some things were said that both of you didn’t mean. Um...just, let’s take a few minutes to cool off. Harry could you and Lily deal with the dishes and I’m going to talk with Y/N alone.”

Everyone nods and Y/N follows Nick down a hallway, a little confused but following after he beckons her with his hand. They go out a side door and end up on a porch in the backyard. He stoops down and opens a little sitting mailbox she didn’t see and pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He places one between his teeth and then offers one to her. She accepts, not usually a regular smoker, but right now seemed like a fair time to indulge in the bad habit. She needed to calm her rapidly beating heart.

He lights the cigarette for her when he sees her shaking hands and then in turn lights his own. They stand on the porch beside each other and stare out into the dark night sky.

“Well, this wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go,” Nick starts, after a few exhales of smoke.

“No,” she laughs nervously, her foot toeing at the wooden slate on the porch. “I shouldn’t have tried to make a joke.”

“No one’s to blame,” Nick says quickly, glancing at her, “You and Harry...you both have really strong personalities and I don’t think either of you are used to being challenged.”

She nods along, she definitely had to agree after the argument they had both willingly gotten into in front of other people.

“I think that can be a really good thing, challenging each other, because then you two can both grow. But what happened in there was more of a battle to the death rather than a friendly spar.”

“Yeah,” she exhales, flicking at the burning cigarette between her fingers, “I don’t know why he gets under my skin sometimes in a way I’ve never dealt with and it’s kind of uncomfortable so I lash out, I guess.”

Nick stays quiet, taking a drag of his cigarette.

“Ugh,” she groans, “I wish I hadn’t done that. We were doing so well, it’s like I don’t even really know what I’m saying, it’s like I can’t handle a friendly spar, I always end up going in for the kill - as you put it.”

She rubs at her face with her free hand and then takes a drag herself. Nick bites at his lower lip, trying to think of a solution.

“Y’know? Lily and I had concocted this plan to try and set you and Harry up tonight,” he says slowly, revealing the plan that had clearly been taken off the table as they just needed to attempt to salvage cordiality.

“Really?!” She’s in complete disbelief and slight dismay that the plan was seemingly ruined.

“Well,” he sputters, “When the two of you aren’t throwing verbal fireballs at each other, you’re actually quite sweet to one another. Those fond little glances you hope no one sees, well he does that too, and you both fail miserably because I see it all the time. I’m sure plenty of people do too.”

“Oh,” she states, visibly deflating. She looks to the ashtray conveniently on a table behind her and presses out the rest of the cigarette. “Should probably talk to him, huh?”

Nick nods, stamping out his nub of a cigarette as well. They go back inside and into the kitchen where Lily and Harry have plated dessert. Harry looks a little sheepish, likely having a similar conversation with Lily and she wouldn’t be surprised if her expression looks similar, if not a bit more flushed from the outdoor chill.

Lily murmurs that she and Nick are going to eat their dessert in the living room, a fair bit away from the kitchen and the two now deflated counterparts nod and then stare at each other, knowing what they need to do.

“Can we talk?” Harry rasps out, his voice even lower as he speaks softly, a mere foot away from her in the kitchen.

She nods, but moves further from him to lean against the counter and tuck her hands behind her. She’s lost her appetite and doesn’t want Harry to see her shaking digits.

He’s ducked his head and a stray curl falls over his forehead, laying there softly. He doesn’t move to fix it, just stares at his feet until she begins to talk. He can’t not look at her face when she speaks.

“So…” She slowly starts, not enjoying the tension in the room. Her eyes can’t meet his though, his stare dark and unnerving like usual, but almost painfully so now. “I can start.” She kicks at the tiling on the floor like she had done outside as well, trying to not think about the eyes trained on her right now. “I’m sorry I lashed out on you, Harry. I didn’t mean what I said, it was just a heat of the moment response.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Harry says immediately once she finishes speaking, “I shouldn’t have gotten upset over a silly joke and brought up a sensitive subject. Then it escalated…”

“Yeah, I really liked the friendship we’ve garnered these past few months and I just can’t believe I almost ruined everything - including my career…” she squeaks at the end and tears start to roll from her eyes. “Oh god,” she is hit with the gravity of all that she almost ruined as Harry stares at her again. “I’m so sorry, Harry, I really am. Do you forgive me? I don’t think I could stand it if you didn’t.”

She stands there and feels sobs wrack through her and her hands go to cover her face out of embarrassment. She had caused a scene and now she was making another one. In front of Harry.

In an instant his arms are wrapped around her frame and he’s hushing her cries. They had never hugged before, but now seemed like as good a time as ever. His arms were strong around her and she pressed her face into his chest, not caring at all about how she looked or whether this was worse than getting in a fight and running off.

“Of course I forgive you,” he says and then begins repeating her name over and over, trying to soothe her. He definitely had been hurt by her words, but it seemed like she was more upset about the whole situation than he was and he didn’t think bringing up what specifically had hurt him would help her frame of mind.

She settles after some time, her whimpers and tears subsiding after being rocked into a more peaceful mindset with the help of Harry’s calming voice and reassuring embrace.

“I really am sorry,” she whispers again.

Harry pulls his neck back and his head off the top of her head to look at her face. It was tear stained and her eyes were glassy, lips slightly puffy. He gave her a soft tight-lipped smile. “No more apologies,” he states sternly and then softens again at the slight quiver in her lip. He pulls from her a little more, leaving her at arm's length, with his hands still attached to her hips, fingers slipping over the plaid fabric. “I meant to tell you this earlier, before things…” he stares at her face again and she holds it this time, “You look beautiful tonight.”

She scoffs and her eyes immediately drop to her feet, “Definitely not anymore.” She doesn’t believe Harry.

“‘M serious,” he insists. His right index finger goes to rest beneath her chin and brings her face up to look back at him.

“Sure,” she says, still not convinced but not sure how else to respond. She feels herself warming at all the positive attention he’s pouring into her.

His gaze won’t falter from her face, he’s intent upon making her understand him. He whispers her name, “Accept the compliment.”

“You’re stubborn,” she notes.

“So are you,” he counters quickly.

“Fine, thank you,” she sighs when he won’t stop giving her that look of his. That look that makes her want to melt into the ground because it feels like she’s the only person in the world. “Though you looked especially good tonight, too,” she adds, her hands rubbing over his shoulders softly.

“Thank you,” Harry states lowly, the words only traveling to her ears. His hands fiddle with the sides of her top, thinking about the night and where they were now. Her eyes were red from crying and overall she looked tired beyond her years. “Do you want me to take you home?”

“That’d be nice.”

They make a quiet farewell to Nick and Lily, as well as apologies from both her and Harry. They don’t speak in the car and the music plays loud enough for it to not seem unreasonable for them to be silent. Harry’s hands don’t tap against the steering wheel, they sit in their spots stoically doing their job and nothing more. She watches the window, legs crossed and hands clasped in her lap. She’s thankful for the music because she knows that even though they had talked, it wasn’t enough. What she had said was hurtful and one apology wasn’t enough for how she had behaved. She didn’t think her and Harry would be the same after tonight, but the silence made it possible for her to pretend none of it had happened.

Just as Harry’s car is pulling up the apartment complex that is far darker now, the harsh splatter of rain begins to fall on the pavement and the sleek black car the two are still sat in.

“Oh,” she comments offhandedly, just responding to what she had noticed.

The rain grows louder when Harry parks and then turns off the car. He glances at her for the first time since they got into the car. She registers the look out of the corner of her eye, her face still looking out at the rain. She loved the rain, but there wasn’t always a lot in Southern California, especially not in Palm Springs. It seemed that tonight was different.

“Well,” Harry breaks his silence, she thinks that’s her cue to leave and unbuckles her seatbelt, but he continues. “This certainly wasn’t how I expected this night to go.”

She stops moving, her hand hovering over the handle of the door. She sits back and settles into the seat, feeling her teeth bite into the plush of her bottom lip.

“That’s what people keep saying,” her eyes remain on the rain hitting the front of the car, the splatters of seemingly black liquid that form when the clear rain touches the onyx hood of the car.

“Huh?” Harry grows perplexed at the rather wistful tone of her and how she won’t look at him again. He was still hurt, but he had hoped them talking in the kitchen had straightened some things out. During the car ride he hadn’t wanted to talk, but it didn’t mean he was still angry with her. Just confused, and growing further confused by the second.

“Oh,” she repeats, “Didn’t Lily say? Her and Nick concocted that dinner in hopes to set us up.”

Harry hums, knowing that because Nick had left out a little part of that plan. That he had been a part of it. He had been talking with Nick about getting to know her better outside of work and how Nick had thought it’d be a good idea to have dinner so he had told Lily and they set it up like a casual dinner party. Harry didn’t know how to respond because her knowing that he was in on the plan might just make matters worse. He really didn’t think things could get much worse, but it seemed that they always managed to make it happen so in the end he decided to keep his mouth shut.

“I don’t know if we’d ever be able to work out differences out for that,” she decides to continue, when Harry stays quiet. She scans the interior of the car and watches Harry for the briefest moment before going back to looking out the window. “Nick said that we challenge each other to grow, but all I see us do is hurt each other.”

Her voice is just above the rain pattering outside the car and Harry thinks it sounds almost melodic if it weren’t for the sadness laced in every word.

“I disagree,” he states before wetting his lips.

“Of course you do,” she laughs in spite of herself.

“Even after all these months together and you still don’t get it. I like you.”

“You don’t like me, I don’t know how you could ever like me,” she shakes her head. “We just...we get under each other’s skin. You can make me so angry sometimes and I know I make you angry too. And when we’re not angry, we’re focussed on something that doesn’t have to do with ourselves.”

“I don’t think what you feel for me is anger,” Harry insists, “Just because something feels burning and fiery, frustrating even, doesn’t mean it’s anger.”

His body shifts closer to the center divide and she turns to face him finally. His eyes are extra dark in this lighting, which is barely there from a streetlamp a ways off. She longs for the comfort of his light green eyes, the soft pale glow of the moss that seems to have been trapped within his iris. Maybe for that reason she unknowingly leans closer to him.

“Then what is it?” She whispers, eyes blinking slowly as her breathing grows strained.

“Passion.”

Immediately, her head is tilting to meet his lips. Her mind knows one thing, she needs to be kissing Harry right now. And then she is. His left hand goes to cup her cheek as his lips attach themselves to hers. His soft lips press to hers in a long searing kiss. They stay there for a moment, pressing all of that passion and frustration into the kiss.

She presses impatiently forward, her lips starting to move more, wanting to kiss him deeper. Harry obliges, parting his lips and kissing her more vigorously. He licks into her open mouth and smiles at the sound she makes in appreciation for his actions.

She’s shifted to have herself kneeling on the leather seat and she’s leaning over the console. One of her hands finds purchase on Harry’s thigh and grasps tightly, her other at the back of his neck, pressing him closer if it were possible.

His chest is pressing against hers as he pulls her closer. He kisses her and his fingertips rub softly at the apple of her cheek. Eventually they run behind the shell of her ear and trail down her neck.

Eventually, she pulls away and stares at Harry. She watches as his eyes flutter open gently. His soft eyelashes dust his cheeks before moving away, allowing his eyes to peer at her in the dark.

Her breathing feels a little irregular after the kissing and she’s sure she is heaving her chest slightly, likely mirroring Harry’s chest as well.

“So, where to now?” She inquires, lips quirked up at her suggestion.

Harry giggles and scratches his nose against his index finger.

Harry doesn’t stay the night, he walks her up to her apartment door though. He kisses her chastley in front of her door and wraps an arm around her waist as he does so. He bids her a goodnight and a promise of seeing her soon.

They don’t see each other for a month. Both of them had been so blissful after the endorphins of kissing their person that they had forgotten that filming had wrapped. They weren’t set to work for a month. Harry texted her the next morning informing her that he’d be in England until filming resumed. She was still going to be in California, filming was moving back to Los Angeles, so she’d be back in her place there. Her family knew she was working, so they had sent her presents ahead to her place instead. Angie, her only true friend in the area, was spending her time with her actual family and Y/N didn’t want to intrude.

So the holidays were going to be spent alone. Those four weeks alone passed surprisingly quickly. She practiced techniques on herself, bought a tiny Christmas tree like the one in A Charlie Brown Christmas, watched A Charlie Brown Christmas and just about every other holiday movie possible. She fell in love with young Hugh Grant and Colin Firth for the thousandth time. She sang carols to herself and decorated her place with decorations from Target. She jammed out to the new Miley Cyrus album and held dance parties for herself in the house. She baked cookies and even attempted a trifle after watching a Great British Bake Off episode. She did and she did all in hopes that her mind wouldn’t wander to the guy who hadn’t called.

Harry texted occasionally, but it was infrequent at best. He was a busy person, she knew that. She knew who he was. And she didn’t want her mind to have enough time to feel sorry for herself. For her to think that she was just somebody to pass the time with while at work, because if she stopped doing things that’s where her mind would wander. Why did her mind spiral like it did? She had no idea, she’d always been like that.

His absence, their separation, made her question if her own feelings were even true. She wondered if when she saw him he would act as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t said their relationship was passionate and she had kissed him until she couldn’t breath.

Too much time alone, she needed some fresh air. On January 2nd, after an uneventful night at home and a lackluster countdown washed down with cheap champagne, she decided to go and walk around near her place. There was a coffee shop that wasn’t extremely expensive that she also liked that she figured she would get coffee from. After a brisk walk, she walked through the store's doors and ordered an iced green tea. As she waited, she watched the other customers around her, wishing to see a friendly face, someone she knew. And seconds later, she was met with half of that wish. Someone she knew, not necessarily a friendly face.

“Autumn.” She states with a grimace when someone taps her on the shoulder and she spins around.

“Y/N? It is you!” Autumn, one of the PA’s from Don’t Worry Darling who was especially in Harry’s business, exclaims overly happy as per usual.

Y/N bites the inside of her cheek and gives a tight lipped smile, trying her best to be cordial.

“How’s your holiday been!” Autumn asks.

“Great. You?”

“So great!” She’s quick to lean closer and say in a hushed tone, “But I miss working on set, especially getting to see that Harry everyday. He’s just so gorgeous.”

A breath gets stuck in Y/N’s chest at the mention of Harry’s name. Her brows can’t help but raise a bit at Autumn’s comment. Even lowering her voice didn’t make it feel alright to talk about Harry like this. He was her friend after all.

“Sure.” Y/N nods abruptly, realizing Autumn wants some recognition of what she’s just said. Y/N’s eyes glance around the room, hoping for an out like her drink is ready or something - no such luck.

“I mean,” Autumn keeps talking, of course, “You’re so lucky. You get to see him shirtless, like what? Everyday practically? Don’t tell me you don’t miss that just a little bit!”

“I miss working,” Y/N says, avoiding what Autumn is trying to get her to say. “And Harry’s my friend, could you maybe not talk about him like that with me?”

Autumn’s eyes widened in shock, her lips parted dumbfounded by her co-worker's response. Y/N’s name is called for her drink and she’s thankful for the serendipitous nature of that sound getting her out of the awkward situation she had just been in.

When she gets back to her apartment, she surprisingly has a text from Harry himself. She’s always telling everyone; speak of the devil and he will appear, in one way or another. It’s a Happy New Year well wish followed by a separate text asking how she was.

It was sent a minute ago so she decides to try and give him a call. She preferred talking on the phone over texting.

It rings a few times and then, again surprisingly, he picks up.

“‘Lo?” His voice is nice and deep and sounding extra British after his weeks surrounded by family and such.

“Harry,” she sighs contentedly.

“Happy to hear your voice,” he says her name and she can tell he’s smiling just like she is, from ear to ear.

She bites at her lip, hearing him say her name.

“I’m well, thanks,” she says after a moment of happy silence.

“What?” Harry laughs, confused.

“You texted asking me how I was and I called to respond.”

“Got it,” Harry chuckles, and she hears him shuffling around, likely sitting down on something.

“How are you?” She continues.

“Good, starting to wind down for the day,” he lists off the things he’s been doing over the past few days. Some of it work related, some of it family activities. All of it fun, he insists. “What did you do today?” He finishes, knowing she was an avid activity doer based off of the snaps she had sent him over the past few weeks.

“Tidied my place, went to the coffee shop and got iced tea…” she tries to think and then she gasps, “Oh! And I saw Autumn, one of the Don’t Worry Darling PA’s -”

“The one who’s obsessed with me?”

“Exactly!” She laughs, “And I may have kind of told her off… accidentally.”

“Accidentally told her off?” Harry repeats, incredulous. “How’d you do that?”

“Well,” she doesn’t want to tell him the rest, but there’s also a tiny part of her that really does, “She was gushing about you, which, ew. And then she asked if I missed seeing you shirtless everyday.”

“Well do you miss seeing me shirtless?” Harry smirks.

“Oh shut up!” She’s quick to reply.

“So you do?”

“If I really wanted to see you shirtless, all I’d have to do is type in “Harry Styles sh” and it would come up,” she rolls her eyes even though she knows he can’t see them. “Wouldn’t even need the whole word. Guaranteed.”

“Uh-huh?” Harry questions still, “If you want me to send you shirtless pictures that the rest of the world hasn’t seen, Y/N, all you have to do is ask.”

“I do not want you to send me shirtless pictures of yourself!” She exclaims. She feels like jumping out of a window right now. This conversation had escalated so quickly and she felt herself flushing, maybe even perspiring a little bit. And she also knew that she also would probably like it if he sent her shirtless pictures, which made this whole thing worse.

“Offer stands,” he says, smug as he normally was, happy he got to banter with her again. It had been dull without her, if he was honest with himself. “If you ever find yourself in need, just send a cheeky text and I’ll whip one out for you, no matter where I am or what I’m doing.”

“See this sounds like you’re saying something sincere, but really you’re just telling me you’ll send me nudes at any time.”

“No one said anything about nudes!”

“Shirtless, nude, sounds like you’re getting too caught up in the details, hon.”

“No!” He protests, “You’re the one who’s supposed to be flustered right now, not me!”

“Aww, you’re flustered,” She coos.

Harry groans. “Whatever. I’ll be back on the 8th, be ready to go out on the 9th. I’m taking you on a proper date.”

“How do you know I’m going to say yes?” She bite her lip again, she’s really sweating now. She couldn’t believe he had just asked her out on a date out of nowhere. Out of them just joking about nudes. Maybe she didn’t know Harry as well as she thought.

“Because you called me,” he says confidently.

“I call everyone.”

“But I don’t offer shirtless pictures to everyone.”

“That has nothing to do with me saying yes to this date.”

“Or does it?”

She laughs at his words, at how his voice still manages to convey every facial expression and quirk of his lips. She knows there’s a smile on his lips as he stares in the distance, imagining her face just as she is his.

“Yes.” She smiles.

“Yes!” He repeats happily.

She hears him stand up and spin around possibly and she chuckles slightly, amused at the silly man across the world who had seemed to have stolen her heart.

“See you soon, Harry.”

“Not soon enough.”

On the Saturday of their date, Harry insists on picking her up. He meets her at her door and winks at her after pulling away from their short hug. He laces his hand in hers and she follows behind him as he all but drags her to his car that is downstairs. He seems giddy. His hair has grown out in the month he’s been gone and she knows they’ll cut it when filming resumes. He’s wearing Gucci flared blue jeans - she knows from the big logo on the bottom left pant leg - a ‘Waiting for Sunset’ graphic tee beneath a black cardigan with little animals and items knitted in it. And of course, his dirty ass vans. She had hoped that maybe Christmas would bring him a fresh pair from someone, but it seemed there was no such luck.

Either way, he looked good and upon scanning his outfit, she was pleased that she had dressed correctly for the occasion, knowing one of the sins of Los Angeles was being improperly dressed wherever you might go. Harry had said casual, but casual can always mean so many different things. She got it right with light wash high-waisted levi’s, a brown cream rib-knit long sleeve that buttoned like it could be a cardigan, and some fun chunky boots that added some height to her normal stature. She had contemplated between this and possibly twenty other tops and a few other bottoms. Landing on this felt right, plus it didn’t clash with Harry, the color of her shoes actually matched the color of the snake on the cardigan.

They both compliment each other on the way out to his car and she giggles when he stops and twirls her around. He says he didn’t get a “proper look” before for him to compliment her adequately. After the twirl, he nods and starts them off again, complimenting the specific pieces of her clothes and says she looks beautiful again. His giddiness was contagious.

“No Range tonight,” she muses when Harry stops them in front of a Mercedes-Benz cream convertible, top up.

“Not working,” he replies, unlocking the car with the key into the passenger’s side door handle.

She smiles and slides into the car and watches him jog around to his side and unlock it as well.

“Tonight is going to be fantastic,” he says, leaning over the console and kissing her cheek, just beside her lips.

And when he pulls away with that smug smile of his, she knows he kissed her there on purpose. But the little tease only makes her smile more. He was good at this. And he was right.

The night was fantastic. As was every night after. And she learned that Harry was so much more than anything she ever thought. She counted herself lucky to be loved by a man like him.

#harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #harry styles oneshot #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #enemies to lovers #dwd!harry #idk I always feel like theres more I need to put in here but idk #pls leave feedback and reblog

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

Text

Survey #410

“oh baby, baby, does she take a piece of lime for the drink that i’ma buy her, do you know just what she likes?

Do you put candy canes on your Christmas tree? Ye. Have you ever written/drawn/painted random stuff on your bedroom wall? No. What do you currently hear? A slowed w/ reverb version of "If U Seek Amy" by Britney Spears. Yes, I have a serious thing for these edits of childhood songs, ha ha. Actually, no shame, I still love Britney lmao. What's your favorite flavor of Doritos? Cool Ranch. Do you like bagels? Yep. Do you ever worry about what the world will be like when you have kids? I ain't having any of those, so I don't have to worry about that. Have you ever seen a hippo in person? At a zoo, yes. Are you any good at HTML? Noooo. When was the last time you did something you knew was wrong? Recently, because I'm awful about downloading things illegally. What was the last thing you downloaded on your computer? A picture. Do you ever cry just to get your way? Hi, I'm 25. I at least have SOME adult traits. Have you ever been to any professional sports games? Yes. What's the most boring sport to watch? The only sport I enjoy watching is dance, so. I think golf has to take the cake for the absolute worst, though. Do you like lip rings on the opposite sex? UGH I just love lip rings on anybody. Do you have good or bad vision? Literally awful. Have you ever parked in a handicapped spot when you weren't supposed to? Hell no. That is so fucking inconsiderate and lazy. Have you ever been to a different country? No. When was the last time you finger-painted? Nooo idea. Probably not since I was a little kid. Do you say car-mel or car-A-mel? "Care-uh-mel." When you get out of the shower, do you use one or two towels? One. Are you uncomfortable with changing clothes in front of others? Absolutely yes. Hell, I don't think I ever really changed in front of Jason back in the day, so that says something about how self-conscious I was with a FIT body. Never mind this catastrophe I own now. Which is worse: Runny nose or stuffy nose? Both suck, but stuffy drives me absolutely INSANE. Who's been the most influential person in your life? My mom. Do you have any tan lines? Ha, yeah, no. How many different schools have you gone to? Six. Do you know how to slow dance? I mean, yes? It's not complicated. Have you ever taken The Impossible Quiz? (If not, you should Google it. :D) No, and I'll never waste my time doing that shit. I've watched people play and beat it, but it seems like such frustrating, pointless madness with zero rhyme or reason behind it. Has someone that you liked told you that you are a waste of their time? No. Who is the last person you were in a car with? Mom. In the next 6 months, what are you looking forward to most? Ummmm Christmas, maybe? That's always exciting. Is there anyone who hates you? Probably. Who were you with the last time you went out for food? Mom. If your boyfriend or girlfriend smoked pot, would you care? Eh... I guess if it was for medicinal purposes, I would be okay with it. I'm not keen on dating a smoker of anything. Do you want to start over with anyone? Just Jason, at least sometimes. It'd be really, really nice if we could be friends again and just forget about who we were all those years ago, but I genuinely doubt my ability to be "just friends" with him. Even though I haven't spoken to this dude in over FOUR YEARS, and I'm sure he's changed a lot, just like I have. We might not even be compatible anymore. As much as I may want it, I think it's probably for the better we remain unassociated. Do you eat the crust of your sandwiches? It's what I eat first. Are you completely over your last relationship? Not "completely," no. I still love her, but I'm in a headspace of accepting that now is not the right time with unfit conditions. What hoodie did you wear last? My Pikachu one, which is the one I pretty much always wear. Do you listen to Incubus? Probably surprisingly, no. I don't know if I've even heard a song. Do you wear flip-flops during the winter? More like always. Do you like the smell of Axe? If you don't use an obnoxious amount, yeah. What do you think of feminists? Absolutely necessary as pilots for change. HOWEVER, I do believe some can take the concept waaaay too far. Who was the last person to smoke a cigarette in your presence? Dad, probably. When was the last time you ate a cupcake? Oh my god, GUYS. It was my niece's birthday last month, and she did the CUTEST shit. She used to be very, very opposed to getting even slightly dirty (I mean like a speck of dirt on her would make her cry), and this kid decided to just C H O M P into her cupcake and get the frosting ALL over her face. She had two and got so messy, and that angel was just laughing hysterically about it. That girl is such a damn gift. Safe to say she was bouncing off the walls that night. Did you hug one of your parents today? No. Do you tan in the nude? I don't tan, period. Have you ever put a lot of thought and effort into a gift for somebody, only for them to act like it didn’t really matter to them? Oh god, no. That would really, really hurt, because I genuinely do try to be very thoughtful with my gifts. Do you follow the ‘five second rule’ when you drop food on the ground? NOOOOOOO. It's just a bullshit myth. I am NOT eating food that's been on the floor for a millisecond. If you had to describe yourself using a colour, which colour would you be? Maybe like... navy blue? Kinda dark and somber, but also has a calmness to it. Have you ever had to use another person’s toothbrush before? What were the circumstances? I WOULD FUCKING NEVER. Omg that is so gross. Have you ever crashed a car? No. Do you have a garden? Does it have flowers, vegetables, or both? No. Where do you want to raise your kids? I don't want kids, but if I did, absolutely surrounded by nature and animals. Have you ever been to Cracker Barrel? Yeah, I love it there. Damn, now I want some, lol. Have you ever seen a ghost? I sure as fuck saw something. As soon as you find out you are pregnant, who will you first tell? Who says I'm ever going to BE pregnant? 'Cuz it sure isn't in my plans. But hypothetically, the dad. Have you ever won a game of Minesweeper? Like ever? I've never played it. Who is your best guy friend(s)? Girt. I really should chat with him soon, it's been too long. If you had a tiny scar on your face, would you get it removed or just keep it? I'd keep it. Make me look more badass. ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ What is your hair naturally like? Brown and kinda-sorta wavy. Have you ever stared at a stranger and they said something to you about it? No; I don't stare at people. Is your father very protective of you? I wouldn't say "very protective," no. What would you do if your hero died? ffffffUCK THIS QUESTION HOW ABOUT NO HE'S NOT ALLOWED THAT'S VERY ILLEGAL Where was your first date at with your current lover? I don't have one currently. Are you friendly in the morning, or are you barely awake? Depends on how much sleep I got, but I'm generally in my best mood in the morning. Did your parents force you to go to church? Mom did. What made you pick up the last book you started reading? It was the next book in the series I'm reading, Wings of Fire. When was the last time you went somewhere for the first time? Hm. I dunno. Hypothetically and generally speaking, how would you go about breaking up with someone? Is there anything you would make sure to say, or perhaps not say? I mean it would really depend on WHY I was breaking up with them, but I guess in most situations I'd try to meet them face-to-face and explain why I wanted to cut things off. I think it'd be important for them to hear my tone of voice, and I think physically meeting somewhere would show that I care enough for them to cut time out of my day to see them and try to hurt them as least as possible, given the situation. What do you find particularly offensive? Would you say you’re easy or difficult to offend? DO NOT in even a minor way ridicule mental illness or belittle victims as "weak" or pull the "it's just in their head" bullshit. The misuse of the term "retard(ed)" also genuinely offends me. I wouldn't say I'm easy to offend, either. What was the last chore you completed? Changing my cat's litter. When was the last time someone saw you naked? It's been a loooong time, and it would've only been my mom when I was like, going into a shower or something. If you could bring someone back from the dead and spend an hour with them, who would it be and what would you do/say? Probably Steve Irwin. I'd go on and on about how his family has carried his legacy so brilliantly, and show him aaaaaall the public pictures of Bindi and Grace, especially. God, that man would be so proud of them all. What is the greatest lost you’ve endured? My first "real" boyfriend. How would you describe your current mood? A mix of tired and anxious. I don't feel like going to bed yet, and the storm we've got passing through has me nervous about tornadoes 'n shit. Do you ever drink or get high alone? I've had some light drinks alone. What is the “worst” drug you’ve done? Are there any you will never try, or any you want to try? I've never done any illicit drugs, and I don't want to. What is the most personal thing you’re willing to reveal? Probably that I've had a pilonidal cyst. It's awkward to explain, but I'll share it anyway if there's a good reason to/I'm asked or something. What made you stop talking to the last person you cut out of your life? Her just being the most toxic, drama-filled person with the biggest victim complex of any human I've ever met. Who was the last person to yell at you? Did you yell back? Mom, and my voice was raised. Where do you like to be kissed? This depends on how serious we are. Can go from just the cheek to a lot of places. Which season is your least favorite and why? Summer, because it's too goddamn hot and humid. Who, if anyone, do you compare yourself to most? Probably my little sister. She's on such a successful path, and then there's like... me lmao. Do you have a night-light in your bedroom? If so, what does it look like? No. What is your favorite breakfast food? How often do you get to eat it? Cinnamon rollssssss. I have 'em very rarely, though. I'll eat too many of them, which I definitely don't need. What is your favorite thing about autumn? What about your least favorite thing? AHHHHHH EVERYTHING. I love Halloween and the decorations that come with it, the changing leaves, the crisp air... just all of it. :') Who was the last person you asked for help? Mom, I'm sure.

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''if u seek amy'' by britney spears

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ourkarlanicoleuniverse · 4 years

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Sweet Nothing (MHA Staff AU Fanfiction)

Chapter 2

Warnings: None, swf.

If you prefer reading this on wattpad, I posted the story there too. My account name is @ KarlaNicoleM I have the same profile picture and backdrop. Hope you enjoy 😊

Due to there not being many things to do during this first week, I've been mainly sitting at my desk or hanging around the class with Aizawa and watching over the students. I was currently wrapping up my day with some late lunch and a Netflix at my desk when I heard a booming voice walking into the teacher lounge. "M&M!"

I choked on my soba. "Mic! I'm eating damn it!" The tall man tackled me once I turned my seat over.

He continued to hug me into his chest, "I'm sorry, I just missed my sweet little M&M. Now that it's Friday, we should hang out and catch up." Mic's green eyes looked lovingly at me with glowing excitement.

"I missed you too. Even though we've talked nonstop while I was gone. But don't you have your radio show tonight?" I pushed him back slightly, still wanting to be held by my best friend. The dude smelled like vanilla and hairspray, which wasn't the best combination, but I'll sacrifice my nose to hold him.

"It's not until one in the morning. And it's almost 3:15, so I got more than enough time to give my lovely shrimp attention." He patted my head and grinned.

"When do you sleep?" I asked while swatting away his hand.

"Don't know." I shook my head—same old Hazashi Yamada. The biggest doofus, I know. "Plus, it won't be just us. Iris and Kayama are joining, and I am still trying to convince Aizawa to come. It's just dinner; that's it."

"Eeee, I don't know. Did you invite Lily... errrr... Ms. Rowell? Iris knows her, and I don't want her left out."

"Of course she's invited! But she did say she'll only go if you are."

"What about All Might?" I raised my eyebrow.

"He said no." The Yamada pout just made a comeback, folks!

"Awe no, I guess I'll still go. I'll just leave my soba for another meal." Mic shouted with glee and nearly busted my eardrums again. He went in for another bone-crushing hug, but this time he picked me up and twirled me around. I couldn't help but laugh at his excitement.

"Mic be professional, or I'll write a complaint to HR." Aizawa walked in sluggishly with his sleeping bag in hand and papers in the other. He looked even more beaten up today.

"Oh, is someone jealous? Don't worry, Aizawa; I got some love for you too." Hizashi put me down and went open arms in Aizawa's direction only to meet with Aizawa's capture weapon clinging onto his body. "This is just mean. Are you going to dinner with the rest of us?"

Aizawa retracted his weapon and sat down at his desk, "No. I have papers to grade and then go on patrol. I told you this."

Mic went to sit at his desk next to Aizawa's, "Yeah, I know, but dinner is happening at like 5. It gives you roughly more than an hour to grade, and patrolling is late at night while I'm at the station. PLUS M&M is coming this time. It's like the old gang is back together!" The six-foot-one man hunched over and clasped his hands together while his friend just stared at his computer, ignoring him. I slowly sunk in my seat; I don't think me coming along would convince Aizawa to come.

I tried to make myself look busy and pretended that I ignored their conversation, which is hard given how loud Mic was. "You still go by that dumb nickname?"

I looked up at Aizawa. His charcoal grey eyes bore into me, "Hmm, well yeah, I never minded it."

"Are you really going to dinner? Don't you have work to do?" His eyebrows scrunched in annoyance, but his voice shredded a little curiosity.

I pursed my lips, "Nope, no students feel the need to meet with me at the moment. And you haven't addressed any concerns about them, so I have a pretty open schedule."

"What have you been doing this whole week, then?"

"Helping 1-B's counselor adjust to how things work here mainly. I also have been reviewing the student files and my notes if a random student comes in without an appointment or helping Toshinori adjust and give him my advice on teaching. Oh! Mic also gave me a few of his English assignments to review and grade." I swiveled in my seat as I talked to him.

Aizawa looked a little surprised but tried to hide it quickly. The raven-haired mess of a man turned to Mic. "You make her grade your papers?"

"ONLY WHEN SHE ISN'T DOING ANYTHING!" He held his hands up.

Aizawa hung his head and sighed, "I'll send you a file of things I noticed about the students and my recommendations on what to talk to them about sometimes this weekend. Just please stop making things easy for Mic." I just nodded and muttered thanks while he logged out of his computer and got ready to go home.

"Get some sleep, Eraserhead!" Mic yelled after Aizawa left the lounge. "Now, that it's just us. I'll take you home and wait for you to get ready to go out."

"Um, what about you? You're in your hero outfit?" I say as we packed up.

"I'll change at yours." He shrugged. "I have a bag with my civilian clothes in the teacher's lockers."

He's only saying that because I literally live on campus, the walk wouldn't be bothersome. Principal Nezu was nice enough to give me my old "dorm" from my high school days at UA to live in while I work here. Now, UA wasn't a boarding school by any means. But when I started going to school there, I was, well, a special case. Due to my quirk, and my family problems growing up, the staff thought it was a good idea to live on campus to keep other people and myself better safe. My dorm was pretty much a quick home improvement project. It was located in the back of the campus, away from students' line of sight, and many trees covered it. Nezu told me after I left, he decided to build more dorms for staff that didn't originally have a place to stay either. So, you'll find Lily and Iris here too, aside from me.

When we got to my dorm, Mic had no shame in going to the guest room/my office to change. I almost forgot how well he knows this place because of high school. I made my way into my own room to change out of my work clothes. I took my hair out of my bun and let the wavy dark brown locks fall and give my scalp a rest. Looking into the closet, I yelled for Mic, "'Zashi, what's the dress attire?"

I hear a knock, and the door opens slightly, "Are you decent?"

"Yes." I saw while taking out a grey sweater and showcased it to the man. "Is this okay, with a skirt and boots? Or do I have to pick something else out?"

Mic was wearing a maroon long sleeve with... white pants... Am I really asking this about what to wear? Then he still had his hair up. He was holding a black bomber jacket and had a gold chain around his neck. He also switched his sunglasses to his normal glasses. "Considering what I am wearing? That outfit should be fine. It's supposed to be dressy casual." He scratched the back of his neck, "Do you have a hairbrush I can use? I can't find mine in my bag, and I want to brush out the hairspray."

I pointed him to the bathroom and then proceeded to change. I went with a navy blue skirt with a white cross-line pattern and some thigh-high black velvet boots. I got to add some height to myself while hanging out with my colleagues that are all 5'8 and above. Don't want to look like anyone's child. Because of how my hair had a weird bump from the bun I wore all day, I decided to go for a half up half down hairstyle, mimicking Mic's man-bun, and then I just touched up the makeup I had one from work. Hizashi and I were about to walk when he stopped me and handed me my glasses with a stern look. I smiled and grabbed them and put them in my bag, "I don't need them right now."

"This is why you're blind." He shook his head and opened the door for me. I simply smiled and made my way out with him behind me.

"Kayama, I said I didn't want to drink, I still have my radio show." Mic continued to push Kayama's third beer away as Kayama laughed.

I was sitting between Iris and Lily and enjoying the show Mic and Kayama gave the whole restaurant. "So, ignoring them, how's your first official week in Japan?" Iris spoke up. The cute strawberry blonde brunette was so excited to hear that Lily and I were coming to work at UA. At some point, we were all working together at the Rebel Agency; Iris was my age, but I skipped a year in school, so I graduated with Mic and Aizawa. So, she didn't come to the agency until a year after I was already working there, but as soon as she came here and Lily became close friends, so it wasn't hard for her to settle in. I remember Lily even commented that the agency needed a little more cheeriness when Iris joined.

"It was alright; I didn't know rusty my Japanese was going to be. I literally sound like how I did when I was in school." I took a sip of my glass. "Literally worked so hard on my R's and L's, and now I am back to square one."

"At least you knew Japanese before working here. I learned a little through you and Iris. But before this job, I had to take classes, and I still mess up." Lily took a bite of her food.

"Good thing, the students are learning English, so it makes it easier for both of you, right Mic?" Iris was looking at the two of us and rolled her eyes at Mic and Kayama.

Mic and Kayama both had stopped their shenanigans to join in on the conversation, "I'm just glad to have the whole gang back together, and some new people. Lily, you are just as amazing as my M&M says."

Kayama was looking towards the direction of the entrance and tapped Mic's shoulder, "Yamada, didn't you say that Aizawa wasn't joining us?"

"Yeah, why? OH HEY SHO!" Aizawa strolled to the table wearing a long sleeve black shirt, dark washed jeans, boots, and his capture weapon wrapped around his neck. "What are you doing here?"

"I ended up having a little extra time on my hands. I came mainly to speak to Montoya, though." He shifted a little on his legs with his hands stuffed in his hands and his dark hair falling out his small ponytail. "It's about work."

I moved to get up, smoothing out my skirt, and grabbing my purse. "Alright, let's go outside then." Aizawa held his hand out to guide me back to the entrance as I stepped out in front of him. The winter air of January lightly kissed my cheeks and ears, definitely intending to make my skin blush. I faced Aizawa and hugged myself as it noticeably got colder. I should've brought a jacket instead of relying on this sweater. "So, what did you need to talk to me about?"

"It's a few things. First, I want to ask you if you would like to assist me in training the students?" He folded his arms—the long sleeve shirt doing a really horrible job hiding his arm's defined muscles.

"I don't have a teaching license in Japan. Literally, the only thing I can do is counseling because of my psych degree. Plus, I don't feel comfortable using my quirk on students." I hugged myself harder and shifted my weight to my left foot.

"You could say it's for counseling purposes. You're able to absorb their quirk and mimic them, making it better to understand them and counsel them. And it's better for someone to have a similar quirk to train them." He countered.

"I only like using my quirk on villains. Even out the playing field and also have them be punished for misusing their quirk." I was getting annoyed. He, of all people, should know how I never like to use my quirk on innocent people. Let alone students.

"Can you at least think about it? I think it would be great for the students. Plus, you made a huge impression on them. They won't stop talking about the number two American Hero." He smirked a little. "They'll probably listen to you more than they do with me."

I huffed, "Don't kiss my ass; it makes me uncomfortable to know you have the ability to do it." I paused a little. It wasn't a completely illogical idea. And he's right; I could say it's for counseling purposes. But then that would put Class 1-B at a disadvantage... "Oh my god! Are you asking me because you and Vlad have some weird rivalry when it comes to your classes?"

The stoic man just stared blankly at me with barely noticeable wide eyes, "No..." He looks anyway but my face. He's lying.

"I can't believe you asked me to... I can't... I have no words." I started laughing.

"Stop laughing." He stuffed his hands in his pockets and held a scowl. I swear no one would believe me if they knew that the Eraserhead had a childish side.

"I'm sorry. I'll have to think about it." I wiped the tears coming from my eye as I clutched my stomach from laughing too hard. "What was the other thing you needed to tell..." I was interrupted by a crashing sound and screaming. Aizawa and I looked over in the direction of the sound to see people running towards our direction. The next thing we see is a huge guy with molten rock and lava quirk terrorizing everyone in his path. "Shit. I can't do anything while on my suspension. Any bad move I make that ends up on the news, and I could say goodbye to my license forever."

"Go back inside and tell the others. I'll take care of it." Aizawa motioned me back inside the restaurant.

"But you don't have your suit. Your goggles! People will see that you in your civilian clothes, then what? You'll be exposed." I grabbed his arms to pull him inside with me, but he stopped me.

"I'll be fine. Trust me; stay inside." He placed my hands gently in his and gave me a soft look. It was like I was looking at the seventeen-year-old boy I left years ago. I was frozen. Next thing I knew, I stood beside Lily while Aizawa called for the rest of the table to help him out.

Not being allowed to do hero work sucks.

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My master list 😊

Tag list:

@inumorph @thatgirlwithcamera @mel-sanch

#mha x oc #oc x aizawa #oc x mha #mha oc #bnha oc #uastaff #uastafftiktok #misscounselor #oc x all might #ua staff au #mha fanfiction #mha fan character #mha #oc x bnha #bnha fanfiction

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bad-at-names-and-faces · 4 years

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The Coronation

Chapter 20

chapter index

Inga struggled in the water. The young man had appeared out of nowhere, startling her horse, throwing her into the bay. He was a rough, dark-haired stranger. He came and lifted her swiftly out of the brackish water, the shock of cool morning air on her damp skin hardly noticed in his warm embrace, he carried her to his horse, and rode away with her.

As they approached the city, she asked him his name. He didn’t say, but suddenly the city had vanished, and instead of the low hills of Corona she saw the steep cliffs along the fjord approaching Arendelle. The dark-haired stranger was now the leering redhead. Inga wanted to scream, but her throat wouldn’t let out any sound. There was no escape. The man was taking her prisoner.

Inga woke with a start. She hated the dreams with the leering redhead, but even more, she hated that he had now intruded himself onto the more pleasant dream. She tried to remember the more pleasant beginning, but it was already fading. She usually had the other dream after someone brought up the stories about her mother. It always felt real, and she needed to bring herself back to reality.

The clock was striking six, and the sky was only just starting to get light, but she needed to sleep a little longer, since the coronation festivities that day would go late into the night.

***

Henry sat down at the nearly empty breakfast table.

"It's almost eight, you're barely going to have time to eat," his sister told him as he poured himself coffee.

"Where is everyone else?"

“They’re already getting ready,” she sighed. “I told them I’d wait for you. We’re going to need to get into our costumes soon, too, you know.”

“Costumes?” Henry laughed.

“You know what I mean,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I’d hardly call what they were fitting us for yesterday regular clothing. We’ll change before dinner, at least. You have something picked out to wear to dinner, right? Ask Father for advice if you haven’t.”

"I have something picked out," he grumbled. "Even I know this isn't some random state dinner."

"Well, of course," Hilde smiled. "You want to look nice for her, don't you?"

"What?" He looked up. "No. I mean, that's not it. I was going to, anyway."

"But it's extra motivation, isn't it?" she winked.

"Just… don't say anything more? Please?" he looked at her.

Hilde giggled. "This is about that viking comment, isn't it?"

"I'm never going to share anything with you ever again at this rate," he grumbled.

"I'll be good," she promised as she got up from the table. "I'm going now. I'll send someone to find you in a few minutes if you're not ready."

***

Elizabeth’s sisters had been quite jealous when they heard that she would get to go to all of the Coronation events. Inga wore the new ballgown that Elizabeth had gotten her, but chose the old shoes she had packed from home, because there was going to be dancing. Inga had to call on the palace maids to help her fit into the gown. She wasn’t quite sure how this would work with dinner and dancing, but it was slightly less painful than it had been a few days before.

Elizabeth and Inga had spent a lot of time together in the days since they had arrived in Corona though they had avoided certain topics of conversation. The times that Inga had managed to see Elsa, Frederick was usually there, too. He had been sticking with either his aunt or his sister since his encounter with the unknown ladies. Inga tried to be understanding, but there were several discussion topics that she couldn’t bring up with either Elizabeth or her aunt when he was around.

The Coronation itself was a grand, formal affair like nothing Inga or Frederick had seen. Prince Henry and Princess Clothilde of Corona looked serious and formal, and Inga almost didn't recognize them from the other morning, both gazing vacantly over everyone's heads. There were people from dozens of kingdoms in the cathedral, and Inga was trying to remember if any of them had visited Arendelle. She knew no one from Wesselton or the Southern Isles had visited in her lifetime, and she eyed their representatives cautiously. After the ceremony had ended, she tried her best to listen in as names were announced heading into the banquet, but her family were considered special guests of the Corona Royal Family, and she was too busy being seated to properly hear or see when the guests of interest were announced.

Inga had hoped to possibly speak more with Hilde, but for the banquet she was seated on the opposite side of her parents and grandparents, near some young man she seemed familiar with. Frederick was sitting between Elsa and Prince Henry. Inga sat between her aunt and Elizabeth, and listened to the latter tell Lady Amelia of Wesselton about her father's ship, her recent trip to Arendelle, and her fiance's posting there. Elizabeth would occasionally check in on Inga, who would try to listen in on some of Lady Amelia’s stories of Wesselton. Inga realized she knew very little about the country despite its being so close to Arendelle.

On the other side, Elsa was eating quietly, and seemed to be deep in thought. Inga wished that she could think of something to speak about, but all the things she wanted to ask seemed better for a less public setting. She could hear bits of conversation between her brother and Prince Henry to the other side, mostly about Frederick’s newfound love of sailing, or the relative merits of horses versus reindeer. Looking around the room, she tried to identify anyone she had seen before in Arendelle, but she didn’t recognize any of them.

"You should come to Arendelle some time," Frederick was telling Prince Henry, "then we can show you around."

Inga wished her brother wouldn’t go inviting people they’d only just met to come visit, though she supposed that Frederick had every right to make friends. The two kept talking.

A moment later she noticed Frederick standing up, and heard Prince Henry as they walked past. "There's a good view from the balcony out there, why don't I show you?"

"Inga," Frederick spoke up, patting her shoulder, "you look bored, come with us!"

"Um, I guess so," Inga hemed, "Elsa?"

"No, thank you," their aunt smiled. "Please, you go enjoy yourselves."

Inga reluctantly followed her brother and Prince Henry out to the large balcony. She had fully intended to make it through the trip without having to think about foreign princes, though her misadventure the first morning had certainly made it all the more difficult. She was used to falling back on pure formalities when dealing with an interested prince, but she realized she couldn’t address him as “Your Highness” without sounding almost rude at this point.

She gasped a little as they walked out on the balcony; it was indeed a very nice view. She might have to admit that it was one of the more spectacular views she had seen. She certainly hadn’t seeen any cities like this. It wasn't yet dark, though the sun had set almost a half hour earlier. There was the thinnest crescent moon about to set, following the sun. Inga tried to see the different locations Prince Henry described to her brother. She recognized where their ship had docked a few days earlier, and the bridge they rode over that first morning was hard to miss, but the rooftops all looked similar, and blocked the views of the narrow streets. Elizabeth came outside just then, and Inga felt a little more comfortable when she saw her.

"Oh, there's our house!" Elizabeth exclaimed, pointing, "and I see the naval headquarters over there!"

"I think I recognize some of the places from our ride," Inga remarked quietly to Elizabeth, though she had to admit to herself that she wasn’t entirely sure where she had been.

A moment later, Lady Amelia came outside and told Elizabeth that she wished to introduce her to an admiral from the Wesselton navy.

"Inga, I'll be right back," Elizabeth assured her as she followed her back inside, "I promise!"

"Are we missing dessert?" Frederick asked as if on cue, and walked back inside.

"They'll be serving dessert for an entire hour!" Prince Henry called after him. "Oh, nevermind. Your brother enjoys his food, doesn't he?"

"Yes, well, he's growing," Inga sighed.

Henry laughed, but didn’t say anything. Inga glanced back at the door, hoping to see someone come back out, but nobody did. She wished she could breathe more freely. She was wondering if she’d even be able to dance later. She was also wondering if it was really just the corset. She was used to talking to men she could address formally, and she was used to talking to her father and brothers and people she could view as almost family, but she had never thought very hard about talking with someone who didn’t seem to belong to one of those categories. When she looked back, she made eye contact with Henry. He seemed to sense her discomfort.

“Sorry,” he said, looking away.

“What?” Inga looked back at him.

“Sorry for making things awkward the other day, I guess,” he answered, looking out over the city.

“Oh, um.” she tried to think of the appropriate reply. “Thanks.”

“Thanks?” he repeated, looking at her.

“What was I supposed to say?” she asked, reminding herself that he wasn’t actually standing that close to her. She couldn’t touch him if she stretched out her arm. That was plenty of space.

“You could tell me that I wasn’t making things awkward with you,” he suggested petulantly.

“Why would I say that if it actually was awkward?” she asked incredulously.

“Because… um…” he sputtered, his voice cracking a little. “Fine, you’re not flirting with me, then?” The moon had set an hour earlier and it was too dark out to see his face clearly.

“Nevermind, you’re right, it wasn’t awkward before,” she groaned. She could feel him watching her, and turned to look the opposite direction. She was finding it even harder to breathe than at the beginning of the evening, and tried leaning on the railing of the balcony, but her dress made it difficult.

“I just thought-” he stopped himself.

“What?” she huffed. “You thought that I’m going to be teasing and giggling like those ladies from… wherever it is they’re from.”

“The ones from Wesselton?” he asked in disgust.

“Maybe? I don’t know,” she felt disarmed by his reply. “Frederick ran into them our first day here.”

“They arrived the day before you,” Henry explained. “I’ve been avoiding them, too. I’m eighteen now, so they had their eyes on me. I suppose your brother would be a good second choice. I’m… no, I mean… you’re nothing like that, I know that.”

“Oh.” She swallowed, not sure how to respond.

“Your brother told me about what our Ambassador said, by the way,” he chuckled weakly.

“Oh. That,” she grumbled, slowly turning back around and rubbing her forehead. “I hope my brother made it very clear I came here in spite of that and not because of that.” Inga realized she had managed to forget about the Ambassador’s invitation since their arrival in Corona.

“I think he mentioned that,” Henry snorted.

"It’s so frustrating,” she blurted out. “I really have no plans of marrying any time soon. And my parents aren’t into, well... that sort of diplomacy, you know what I mean?”

He looked over at her. "Well then, I guess that's all cleared up now, isn't it?"

"And now I really have made it awkward, haven't I?" Inga blushed. At home she had almost gotten control over talking too much and saying things that could be left unsaid.

They both stood looking over the city for a few minutes.

"It's not that I don't want to get married eventually," she found herself saying, breaking the silence, "but when almost everyone has been throwing their princes and dukes my way since I was hardly more than twelve, it gets a bit tiresome."

"But you just said that’s not what your parents want for you, right?" he asked, keeping his eyes focused on the city.

"No," she replied quickly. "It’s definitely not their idea, but I don’t think they really noticed that it was going on, and they really don't know what to tell me. They try, but it's obvious they have no idea what to do about me. I think their latest idea is trying to fix that, keep me from feeling like my only option is to get married, but that wouldn’t stop the attention, just change who it’s from.”

“I think I remember your brother saying something about that, too.”

“The less said, the better,” she sighed. “But it’s certainly not my idea, if you’re talking about what I think you are.”

“Well, he seems to think you’re a better fit, anyway,” Henry smiled, looking back at her. She tried to keep looking straight ahead.

“He just needs time to grow up,” Inga insisted.

“And they’re worried about nobody staying on the throne long enough for that to happen?” he smirked.

Inga glared at him. “That’s not funny.”

“Sorry.” He looked at her.

“It’s just… you know…” she stammered. “It’s something I think about a lot.”

“That and worrying about being married off, I take it?”

“Well, I'm rather worried about making a mistake," she began.

"Like me?" Prince Henry looked back at her curiously.

"Not exactly, I mean- no, not you. At least, I haven’t heard anything bad about you…” she had been completely facing him, and turned herself to face away from him quickly enough that her skirts rustled and swung against him. “But that’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean?”

“My mother… my mother, she had… well, everyone knows that story. Surely you’ve heard it if your father taught you… that vocabulary.” she looked at him pointedly. “I mean, it’s the usual thing, I’ll be talking to some ambassador or other, and if I say that I’m not interested in getting married yet, they give a knowing nod and in hushed tones they tell me they can understand and they won’t bring it up again. And they all think they’re in on some big conspiracy by not talking about it around us.”

“Um… Is this about the ice thing? Because I know about that. My parents were there, you know.”

“Well, I only just learned about their visit right before I came here,” she laughed. “So I suppose I should just be thankful to learn that family gossip hasn’t gotten around to quite everyone.”

He looked at her with a puzzled expression. “What did you just learn? I don’t seem to be up to following the conversation.”

“Just that your parents know my parents. I… I really hadn’t known that. Especially not my father and yours.”

“Oh!” he laughed. “Well, I can tell you all about it, I think. I suppose it’s my fault they lost touch. Or, well, both mine and Hilde’s...”

“What do you mean?” Inga asked.

“Mother always felt a bit guilty about missing your mother’s coronation and wedding, but we were a few months old then,” Henry explained.

“Of course, that does make sense,” Inga replied. “I heard that they went rock climbing once.”

“Yes, I’ve heard a little bit about that. I think the trolls made a bigger impression on my father. That’s the story he liked to tell us when we were little.”

“What?” Inga was incredulous. “Father hardly ever takes anyone outside the family to see them.”

“Oh, well,” he chuckled. “It was the holidays, and he missed Mother quite a lot, and nobody else was around, and apparently there was some festival about rocks? It never quite makes sense.”

“No, that doesn’t make sense,” Inga remarked. “Why wasn’t your mother there? Where was she?”

“She was on a diplomatic tour with your aunt and mother,” Henry replied matter-of-factly.

“Really? They didn’t mention that.” Inga paused, trying to make sense of the different stories she’d heard. “Then again,” she added, mostly thinking aloud to herself, “I never asked them about that.”

“What did you ask them about?” Henry asked her, jolting her a bit with the realization she had been speaking out loud.

“Well, not both of them,” she backtracked a little. “I haven’t asked my mother, but she and my aunt write to each other all the time, so it’s almost the same thing.” She was rambling, and worse, not sure whether she should be saying this, though she couldn’t think of any reason she shouldn’t. “And, sorry… I had asked my aunt if the trip was where she met Mrs. Nilsen, the mother of… well, her son is the secretary for your Ambassador to Arendelle.”

“Always that Ambassador, huh?” Henry laughed. “But, I think your brother was telling me about him and his fiancee. Now that I think about it, I remember him, at least a bit. His family used to come around to the castle here when they were younger. I remember his brother was almost the same age, just a year older, and they wanted to put them both in the Navy, and the brother did go into the Navy, but your friend… I can’t remember, but for some reason, I think he was supposed to go into the Palace Guard, and then there was some kind of bother when he didn’t.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I don’t know, exactly. I’m slowly getting better at following along when my mother and grandparents are discussing things, but I was younger when it happened. I just remember my mother starting to tell them to please let her know about these things. She wasn’t mad… at least, she seemed very calm about it. At any rate, then he went into the Diplomatic School, and I never heard about it again."

"I never heard him say anything about the Palace Guard. I thought he was going to study law," Inga remarked.

"You know," he laughed a little, "you might be right. I don't know if I trust my own memory sometimes."

"I didn't say anything!" she exclaimed defensively.

"Don't worry about it," he sighed. "I should have a long time to improve myself. Though I suppose all this fuss today means that unlike your brother, I don't have time to grow up any more."

"If it makes you feel better," Inga offered, "you'd have three more years in Arendelle."

"Um, thanks?" he twisted his lips, looking straight ahead again. "I guess it serves me right fishing for compliments."

She glared at him, but he wasn't looking at her. She tried to think of something to say, and was starting to move her hand over to get his attention, when she heard someone coming out to the balcony, startling her a bit.

"Henry! There you are!" Hilde was smiling. "The music has started! You and I are expected out there!" She looked over and giggled a bit. "Inga, you'll probably disappoint some people if you don't follow us!"

#my fic #chapter 20 #kristanna #corona #dream sequence

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spn-safeandsound · 4 years

Text

06. Strong Abilities

Safe and Sound

Dean Winchester x Original Character

Episode: 1x09; Home

Word Count: 9, 163

Warning(s): Mature language, canon violence and gore

Author’s Note: Hope you enjoy! Don’t forget to reblog and like!

Masterlist in Profile Description!

Julia loved blue and purple. The bands that she used to tie up her hair were royal blue. Her toothbrush was turquoise. Her hunter's journal was navy. Her luggage was dark purple. Her favorite sundress was lavender. Her sexiest bra was lilac.

So, it made sense that her absolute favorite color was periwinkle—the perfect shade of blue and purple together. The problem was that it was hard to find anything that came in periwinkle and that frustrated the hell out of her. So, when she saw a bottle of periwinkle nail polish at the store when they went to pick up some supplies, she got three bottles. Sam had given her an incredulous look but she very pointedly ignored it.

She was just finishing up the second coat on her nails when Dean spoke up from the other side of the table, having done a search for cases all morning.

"All right, I've been cruising some websites and I think I found a few candidates for our next gig," he told her and Sam, who was sitting on his bed sketching. "A fishing trawler found off the coast of Cali. Its crew vanished. And, uh, we got some cattle mutilations in West Texas."

Julia hummed. Calf mutilations? Lovely.

"Hey," Julia looked up when Dean spoke but he was looking at Sam, who didn't seem to be paying attention. "Am I boring you with this hunting evil stuff?"

"No, I'm listening," Sam assured him while continuing to draw. "Keep going."

"And here, in Sacramento man shot himself in the head three times," Dean held up three fingers at his brother but when Sam didn't look up, he waved for his attention. "Any of these things blowing up your skirt, pal?"

Sam didn't answer as he flipped back to the other drawings he had sketched, so Julia shrugged, "I think the last one is interesting."

Dean nodded, satisfied that she had answered him at least. "I guess we're going to Sacramento then, shortcake."

Julia gave him a small smile and screwed the periwinkle top back on the bottle of the polish before grabbed the clear coat, brushing it on her nails. She was getting better with Dean after all that happened in St. Louis with the shifter that took his face. It was slow-going but it took about a month until they were mostly back to normal. The usual things he did, like poking her dimple or patching up her injuries were done with hesitation but he slowly got back to the regular intervals. She returned the favor by tapping him on the back or playfully punching his bicep. She still had nightmares but they were getting better, especially since things were getting better with Dean.

"Wait, I've seen this," Sam declared when he turned to his very first drawing of the same old creepy tree.

Dean gave him a weird look. "Seen what?"

Sam rolled off his bed and walked across the motel room, digging into his duffel bag. He pulled John's journal out of it and slapped it down on Dean's bed so he could go through it.

"Sam, is something wrong?" Julia asked, sensing that something was off about him. He was jumpy and kind of frantic as he searched through the photos in the front flap of the journal.

Sam absentmindedly nodded and finally pulled out a picture, comparing it to the notepad he had sketched on. He turned to Dean with wide eyes. "Dean, I know where we have to go next."

Dean eyed him curiously. "Where?"

"Back home. Back to Kansas."

Dean scoffed. "Okay, random. Where'd that come from?"

"All right, this photo was taken in front of our old house, right?" Sam handed the picture he took from the journal and handed it to Dean; the photo was of Dean and Sam when they were a child and a baby, respectively, with their dad and their mother, Mary. "The house where Mom died?"

"Yeah..."

"And it didn't burn down, right?" Sam went on quickly. "I mean, not completely. They rebuilt, right?"

"I guess so," Dean looked a little overwhelmed at Sam's questions. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Okay, look," Sam sat at the seat in the middle of Julia and Dean. "this is gonna sound crazy but the people who live in our old house? I think they might be in danger."

Julia furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. "Why do think that?"

"Uh...it's just...um," Sam grimaced nervously; Julia instantly knew that he had been keeping something from them—something important. "you guys have to just trust me on this, okay?"

"Sam, of course we trust you," Julia gave him a concerned look as he jumped up and crossed the room, starting to pack his bag. She really hoped that she didn't sound condescending because she didn't mean to. She was genuinely worried about him.

"Woah, hold on," Dean narrowed his eyes at his brother. "I think you gotta give us more of an explanation than that."

"I can't," Sam shoved his phone and laptop charger in his bag after he was done with his clothes.

"Well, tough," Dean got up to walk over to him. "I'm not going anywhere until you do."

Sam sighed heavily and paused his packing, turning to face him. "I have these nightmares..."

Dean nodded. "I've noticed."

No kidding, Julia thought. There had hardly been a night that she wasn't woken up by Sam's tossing and turning while he had his nightmares. She didn't blame him, of course, because she had her fair share, too. She just wished their bad dreams would sync up so they wouldn't wake each other up at different times.

"And sometimes they come true," Sam dropped a bomb.

Okay, that was unexpected. He had never given any hint that he was experiencing visions. She honestly wondered what it was like; she didn't see the things she knew, she just knew them.

"Come again?"

"Look, Dean," Sam sighed at Dean's look of disbelief. "I dreamt about Jessica's death for days before it happened."

That would explain why he had said that Bloody Mary would come after him. He wasn't to blame but if he actually thought that it was his fault Jess died because he didn't do anything about the nightmares he had, the spirit would have gone after him. And it did.

"Sam, some people have weird dreams," Dean tried to explain, sitting at the end of his bed. "I'm sure it's just a coincidence."

"No, I dreamt about the blood dripping, her on the ceiling, the fire, everything," Sam elaborated. "and I didn't do anything about it cause I didn't believe it. Now, I'm dreaming about that tree, about our house, and about some woman inside screaming for help. I mean, that's where it all started, man, this had to mean something, right?"

Dean bowed his head, shaking it slightly. "I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know, Dean?" Sam sat on the bed across from him. "This woman might be in danger. I mean, this might even be the thing that killed Mom and Jessica!"

Julia watched the brothers silently, not knowing what to say or whether she had a right to say anything at all. The air in the room was tense, making her spine stiffen, and both Sam and Dean were getting riled up. Sam was urgent; he wanted to go to Kansas and he wanted to go now. There was nothing that was going to change his mind. From the set of his shoulders, Julia could tell that Dean was struggling with the concept of returning to the only home he ever really had. He was just as sensitive about Mary Winchester's death as John was and he mourned her every day.

"All right, just slow down, would you?" Overwhelmed, Dean snapped at him, standing up to walk toward the table to get some space from his brother. "I mean, first you tell me you've got the Shining and then you tell me that I've gotta go back home? Especially when..."

Dean cut himself off sharply, his breath hitching. Julia felt her heart ache at the despair that practically wafted off of him.

"When what?" Sam asked.

"When I swore to myself that I would never go back there."

Dean abruptly turned around, hiding his grieved expression from his little brother. He didn't seem to realize that he was now facing Julia until it was too late. His face went blank—though his green eyes were still so sad—and she gave him a sad smile to show him that she was there for him if he needed her.

It wasn't the same kind of situation, but Dean had been so supportive of her over the past month. She owed it to him to be there for him, too.

"Look, Dean," Sam's tone softened significantly, realizing why his brother was so reluctant about going back to Kansas. "we have to check this out. Just to make sure."

Dean swallowed harshly, the muscle in his jaw working. "I know we do."

They arrived in Lawrence, Kansas around nine the next day. The ride was very quiet even with the rock music playing and Dean definitely didn't blast it like most days. The closer they got to the Winchester's old neighborhood, the more tense Dean got, the air shifting around him anxiously.

Dean pulled over to the curb across their old house, shutting off the Impala. He stared at the house, where there was no sign of the fire, dread. He was clearly rethinking the decision to come here.

"You gonna be all right, man?" Sam asked, noticing his brother's stare.

Dean pressed his lips together. "Let me get back to you on that."

The three of them got out of the car and crossed the street to the house. Julia hung back to walk with Dean, ignoring her slight uneasiness to briefly grab his hand and squeeze reassuringly. Dean's lips quirked slightly and he returned the action before pulling his hand away to stuff it in his jacket.

As Sam knocked on the door, she saw the tree that he had been drawing the day before.

A blonde woman older than all three of them opened the door. "Yes?"

"Sorry, to bother you, ma'am, but we're with the Federal—"

"I'm Sam Winchester," Sam cut off Dean to introduce them politely. "this is my brother, Dean, and our friend, Julia. Dean and I used to live here. You know, we were just driving by and we were wondering if we could come see the old place."

"Winchester," the woman breathed thoughtfully. "That is so funny. You know, I think I found some of your photos the other night."

Dean looked surprised. "You did?"

The woman nodded. "Come on in," she invited them into the house. "I'm Jenny."

"Nice to meet you," Julia smiled politely as she and the brothers entered the house and followed her through a hallway. "Thanks for letting us take a look around."

"No problem," Jenny nodded as they entered the kitchen. There was a little girl around six or so sitting at the table coloring, while a blonde toddler jumped up and down in a playpen, cheering for juice.

"That's Richie," she told Julia and the brothers as she took a sippy cup of juice over to the little boy. "He's kind of a juice junkie. But hey, at least he won't get scurvy."

Julia smiled and waved at the little boy, watching as he smiled in satisfaction when he popped the sippy-part into his mouth and started drinking. He was such a cutie.

"Sari," Jenny put her hands on her daughter's shoulders. "This is Julia, Sam, and Dean. The boys used to live here."

Sari smiled shyly. "Hi."

"Hi, Sari," Julia grinned at her while Sam and Dean waved.

"So," Dean looked to Jenny. "you just moved in?"

"Yeah, from Wichita."

"Do you have family in the area?" Julia wondered. Lawrence was kind of a small town, so it was hard to believe that someone would move here out of nowhere. Then again, Wichita was only two hours south.

"No," Jenny frowned. "We just, uh—we needed a fresh start, that's all. A new town, new job—I mean, as soon as I find one—and a new house."

"How are you liking it so far?" Sam asked as Jenny grabbed the empty plate by Sari's coloring book and took it to the sink.

"Well, uh, all due respect to your childhood home—I mean I'm sure you had lots of happy memories here—" Jenny started hesitantly; Dean smiled weakly. "—but this place has its issues."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it's just getting old," she shrugged. "Like the wiring, you know? We've got flickering lights almost hourly."

"Oh, that's too bad," Dean said. "What else?"

"Um, the sink's backed up, there's rats in the basement..." when Dean grimaced softly, she trailed off. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to complain."

"No," Dean waved her off. "Have you seen the rats or have you just heard scratching?"

"Just the scratching, actually."

"Mom?" Sari spoke up quietly. "Ask them if it was here when they lived here."

Julia frowned in concern. "What, Sari?"

Hesitantly, Sari elaborated, "The thing in my closet."

"Oh, no, baby, there was nothing in their closets," Jenny assured her daughter before looking up at Sam and Dean pointedly. "Right?"

"Right," Sam nodded. "No, of course not."

"She had a nightmare the other night."

"I wasn't dreaming," Sari insisted indignantly. "It came into my bedroom and it was on fire."

On either side of her, Julia felt the brothers stiffen.

"Did you hear that?" Sam asked Dean as the three of them quickly walked out of their old house. "A figure on fire."

"And Jenny was the woman in your dream that needed help?" Julia asked him while Dean stared down at the ground as he walked, keeping quiet about what he had heard. He definitely did not want to believe that whatever killed his mom had stuck around afterwards.

"Yeah," Sam confirmed. "and did you hear what she was talking about? Scratching, flickering lights...both signs of a malevolent spirit."

When Dean looked up, Sam was looking at him expectantly. "Yeah, well, I'm just freaked out that your weirdo visions are coming true."

"Well, forget about that for a minute," Sam insisted as they crossed the street to the Impala. "The thing in the house, do you think it's the thing that killed Mom and Jessica?"

"I don't know!" Dean snapped.

"Well, has it come back or has it been here the whole time?" Sam matched the volume of his voice, becoming heated.

"Or maybe it's something else entirely, Sam!" Dean stopped by his door and faced his brother head-on, his eyes hard. "We don't know yet!"

"Those people are in danger, Dean! We have to get them out of that house!"

"And we will."

"No, I mean now."

Dean scoffed. "And how are you gonna do that, huh? You got a story that she's gonna believe?"

"Then what are we supposed to do?!"

"Guys!" Julia stepped in between them, looking around to make sure no one around the neighborhood was watching the brothers freak out at each other. "Stop shouting at each other."

She gave them pointed looks and got two angry glares in return.

"I know that this is difficult but you can't turn on each other," she advised, ignoring their ire. "We should leave and figure out what the hell is actually going on."

"But—"

"Stop talking, Samuel William," Julia gave him a hard look; Sam's face fell and Dean smirked at him. "I can first-and-middle-name you, too, Dean Jonah."

Dean scowled.

"Get in the car," she ordered as she opened the back door and slid into her seat.

She didn't like going all mom-mode on two grown ass men but she didn't know how else to get them to calm down and look at the case rationally. They were emotional about it and she didn't blame them but if they were going to save Jenny and her kids, they needed to pull themselves together.

If she could do this case by herself to save the boys the heartache, she would. But she couldn't—Sam and Dean knew way more stuff than she did and, knowing them, they probably wouldn't stay out of it anyway.

Thoroughly chastised, the brothers got into the Impala. Minutes later, they were pulling up to a gas station so Dean could fill the tank. Thankfully, the ride had given them time to think and calm down, which led to Dean to make a realization.

"We just gotta chill out, that's all," he told Sam and Julia as he pumped gas into the car. "You know, if this was any other kind of job, what would we do? Any ideas, Junior?"

Julia knew that he was testing her and she was going to rise to the occasion. "We'd try to figure out what we're dealing with," she answered. "and dig into the history of the house."

"Exactly," Dean nodded. "Except this time, we already know what happened."

"Yeah but how much do we know?" Sam spoke up as he leaned against the car. "I mean, how much do you actually remember?"

"About that night, you mean?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah."

"Not much. I remember the fire...the heat," Dean recalled quietly, his gaze far off in the distance like he was watching it in his head. "and then I carried you out the front door."

Julia frowned; so much responsibility had been placed on Dean at such a young age. From the moment he carried Sam out of that house, he had become his brother's caretaker and hadn't stopped since. Julia wished that the boys had a normal childhood like she had but, despite the fact that they didn't, they turned out to be great men.

Sam looked at Dean, surprised by his admission. "You did?"

"Yeah," Dean confirmed, looking over at him. "What, you never knew that?"

Sam shook his head. "No."

"Oh," Dean pressed on. "and, uh, well, you know Dad's story as well as I do. Mom was...she was on the ceiling and whatever put her there was long gone by the time Dad found her."

"And he never had a theory about what did it?"

"If he did, he kept it to himself," Dean said quietly, pulling the gas hose out of the gas tank to put it back on the pump. "God knows we asked him enough times."

"Okay, so, if we're gonna figure out what's going on now, we have to figure out what happened back then," Sam sighed.

"And see if it's the same thing," Julia added.

"Yeah," Dean confirmed. "We'll talk to Dad's friends, neighbors, people who were there at the time."

Sam scoffed softly and gave his brother a sad look. "Does this feel like another job to you?"

Dean didn't answer him, his lips quirking into the smallest and saddest smile that Julia had ever seen on him. "I'll be right back," he said instead. "I gotta go to the bathroom."

He walked off around the side of the gas station before Sam—or Julia, for that matter—could say another word or ask another question. Julia turned to Sam with a sad, sympathetic smile, and wrapped a supportive arm around his waist.

"How are you feeling?"

With Sam, she had always made more headway if she asked him how he was, rather than start right in. Sam could express his emotions far better than Dean could but he had to be in the right mind frame and ready to talk on his own. Sam did the same thing with her—it was cheaper than paying for therapy since they were both empathetic and gave good advice.

Sam sighed heavily. "I'm dealing," he told her. "I'm worried about Dean."

"Me too," she leaned her head against the top of his arm.

"You should talk to him," he suggested; Julia pulled away and gave him a confused look. "He would talk to you more than he would me."

"He's your brother, Sam."

"Well, you're his friend," Sam pointed out. "and he doesn't like talking about his feelings."

"What makes you think he would talk about them with me?"

"Because you're Julia," he said simply.

It didn't make a whole lot of sense but she agreed to talk to Dean anyway. She left the Impala to make her way around the gas station to wait for Dean outside of the bathroom. To her surprise, Dean was leaning against the brick wall, eyes clenched shut and his phone pressed against his forehead.

"Dean?"

Dean's eyes blinked open and he straightened himself, putting his phone in his jacket. "Yeah, what's up?"

Julia's chest tightened when she saw that his eyes were tinged a little red. She sighed sadly and stepped forward, wrapping her arms around him. She rested her head on his chest as he slowly returned the gesture, his chin sitting on top of her head.

"It's gonna be okay," she rubbed circles with her thumb on his back. "It hurts, I know."

Dean was quiet but she could feel his heavy breathing blow against her hair.

"It's okay to be sad."

Like a switch flipped at her words, Dean unwrapped himself from her and shoved his hands into his pockets. "I wanna be there for Sam."

"I know you do," she nodded, smiling softly up at him. "but Sam wants to be there for you, too, you know. I do, too."

The dimples at the corner of his lips deepened in emotion. She was pretty sure he wasn't going to say much but from the way his shoulders relaxed only slightly, she knew that he heard her and appreciated what she was saying.

"Come on," she grabbed his hand and tugged. "Where do you think we should go first?"

"Uh, probably the garage Dad worked at," Dean sighed as they started walking back to the car. "He co-owned it. Pretty much all of his friends worked there."

"Okay," Julia nodded, seeing that Sam had slid back into his seat to wait for them to come back to the car. "Do you remember where it is?"

Dean nodded.

The auto repair garage that John used to own with Keith Guenther was only a couple streets away from the gas station. Keith was a nice man with a belly and receding hairline who easily agreed to answer questions as they posed as state police.

"So, you and John Winchester, you used to own this garage together?" Dean asked as Keith led them through the garage where a couple mechanics were working.

"Yeah, we used to a long time ago," Keith confirmed before hesitating, "Matter of fact, it must be, uh, twenty years since John disappeared. Why are the cops interested all of a sudden?"

"We're re-opening some of our cold cases," Julia informed him with a polite smile. "The Winchester disappearance is one of them."

"Oh," Keith bought her lie. "Well, what do you want to know about John?"

"Well, whatever you remember," Dean told him. "You know, whatever sticks out in your mind."

"Well," he put his hands on his hips. "he was a stubborn bastard, I remember that," he chuckled. "And, uh, whatever the game, he hated to lose, you know? It's that whole Marine thing."

Dean and Sam nodded, exchanging a knowing look.

"But, oh, he sure loved Mary," Keith's smile fell. "and he doted on those kids."

Sam seemed surprised by that. "But that was before the fire?"

Keith nodded. "That's right."

"He ever talk about that night?"

"No, not at first," Keith answered Sam. "I think he was in shock."

"Did he eventually say anything about it?" Julia cocked her head curiously.

"Oh, he wasn't thinking straight," Keith shook his head slightly. "He said, uh, something caused that fire and killed Mary."

"Did he ever say what did it?" Dean wondered.

Keith shook his head. "Nothing did it. It was an accident—an electrical short in the ceiling or walls or something," he sighed. "I begged him to get some help, but..."

"But what?"

"He just got worse and worse."

"How?" Dean insisted.

"He started reading these strange old books," Keith recalled. "He started going to see this palm reader in town."

Julia raised an eyebrow. "Do you know the name of the palm reader?"

Keith scoffed. "No."

"Well, thank you for your time, Mr. Guenther," Sam shook his hand politely. "We'll see ourselves out."

"No problem."

"All right, so, there are a few psychics and palm readers in town," Sam sighed, looking down at the local phone book that was supplied at a public phone. "There's someone named El Divino. There's uh—" he laughed. "—the Mysterious Mister Fortinsky. Uh, Missouri Moseley. Some dude named—"

"Wait, wait," Dean interrupted, his face lit up in recognition. "Missouri Moseley?"

Sam gave him a curious look. "What?"

"That's a psychic?"

Sam looked back to the phone book. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, I guess so."

Dean opened the back door behind his seat, pulling out John's journal. "Dad's journal," he told Sam. "Here, look at this."

He opened the journal and went to the first page, holding it out to Sam. Sam set the phone book back down by the phone and walked over to Julia and Dean, taking the journal to see what Dean was talking about.

"First page, first sentence," Dean informed him, pointing at the page. "Read that."

Sam's eyes landed on the sentence. "I went to Missouri and I learned the truth."

Dean shrugged. "I always thought he meant the state."

Julia wrinkled her nose and took the journal from Sam, reading the entry for herself. It could be nothing but she found herself agreeing with Dean. It was too much of a coincidence that John had started seeing a palm reader in town and there happened to be one name that matched the first sentence of his hunter's journal.

She looked at Sam. "Was there an address?"

There was an address in the phone book and, luckily, Lawrence wasn't that big. Dean found the house where Missouri lived easily without stopping for directions. There was a cute little business sign in front of the house and a cozy waiting area for them to sit in while she finished up with her current appointment.

A black woman with the softest voice that Julia had ever heard escorted a middle-aged man out of her living room only ten minutes after they arrived.

"All right, there," she told him as she opened the door for him to leave. "Don't you worry about a thing. Your wife is crazy about you."

The man gave her his genuine thanks and, when the door was shut firmly behind him, she turned to Julia, Sam, and Dean. "Poor bastard. His woman is cold-banging the gardener."

"Why didn't you tell him?" Dean asked her, slightly amused.

"People don't come here for the truth, they come for good news," Missouri told him, pausing on her way to the living room. "Well, Sam, Dean, Julia...I ain't got all day."

Julia raised her eyebrows, impressed. "She knew our names," she whispered excitedly to Sam and Dean, standing from her seat on the couch. "She knew who we were."

"Calm down, shortcake," Dean grunted as the three of them made their way into the living room.

Julia rolled her eyes at him and turned to Missouri, already finding the woman staring at them.

"Well, let me look at ya," she laughed joyfully, looking between the three of them. "Oh, you boys grew up handsome. And you—" she pointed at Dean. "—were one goofy looking kid, too."

Julia's mouth fell open in amusement, looking over at Dean with bright eyes. Dean grimaced, looking uncomfortable, but relaxed when Missouri moved onto Julia.

"You look like your momma, girlie," she observed Julia carefully. "Petersen dimple and all. None of your daddy in you."

"You knew my dad?" Julia looked at her in shock.

"We've kept in touch over the years. He and Hannah used to live the town over," Missouri said; Julia's eyebrows furrowed—Hannah had been her dad's little sister who died a year before she was born. "Ooh, you got something special girl. I can feel your sensitivity."

Julia was quiet from the shock of all that Missouri knew about her. She hadn't known that her dad lived in Eudora because he hadn't said anything about it before. It was so strange that the Alexanders lived only a town over from the Winchesters but only met a few years later.

"Sam," Missouri touched his hand as Julia and Dean shared shocked looks and gave him a sympathetic look. "Oh, honey, I'm sorry about your girlfriend...and your father...he's missing?"

Another shock. None of them had said anything about John or the fact that they were looking for him—and Sam certainly hadn't shared about the death of his girlfriend.

"How'd you know all that?" he asked her, surprised.

"Well, you were thinking it just now."

Sam raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

"Well, where is he?" Dean asked hurriedly. "Is he okay?"

Missouri furrowed her eyebrows and shook her head. "I don't know."

"Don't know?" Dean repeated. "Well, you're supposed to be psychic, right?"

"Dean!"

"Boy, you see me sawing some bony tramp in half?" Missouri snapped at him. "You think I'm a magician?"

Dean went to defend himself but she kept going.

"I may be able to read thoughts and sense energies in the room but I can't just pull facts out of thin air. Sit, please," she said in one breath, nodding at the couch. Julia, Dean, and Sam all sat on the couch, the oldest man thoroughly chastised. "Boy, you put your foot on my coffee table I'm gonna whack you with a spoon!"

Dean's eyes widened at the finger she pointed at him. "I didn't do anything!"

"But you were thinking it," she retorted; Dean raised his eyebrows and Julia and Sam shared a smirk, amused that someone was setting him straight.

Julia looked around the living room with interest, taking in the homey decorations. She felt a little odd, like there was a sort of nostalgia that she couldn't place. She chalked it up to being in a stranger's presence.

"Okay, so," Sam cleared his throat. "our dad...When did you first meet him?"

"He came for a reading a few days after the fire," Missouri looked uncomfortable speaking about her encounters with John. "I just told him what was really out there in the dark. I guess you could say I drew back the curtains for him."

"What about the fire?" Dean asked her seriously. "Do you know about what killed our mom?"

"A little," Missouri admitted. "Your daddy took me to your house. He was hoping I could sense the echoes, the fingerprints of the thing."

Julia bit her lip nervously. "And could you?"

"I—" she cut herself off, shaking her head.

"What is it?" Sam asked softly, looking at her with pleading eyes.

"I don't know," she confessed. "Oh, but it was evil."

"Mrs. Moseley—"

"Please, it's Missouri," the older woman told Julia.

"Sorry...Missouri, we came to Lawrence because..." Julia trailed off, giving Sam a hesitant look. How could she explain why they were in Kansas when they couldn't have known about what was going on at the Winchester's old house.

"Because Sam had a vision," Missouri finished for her, not needing a rundown when she could hear their thoughts. "So, you think something is back in the house?"

Julia nodded. "Yes."

Missouri sighed. "I don't understand..."

"What?" Sam gave her a confused look.

"I haven't been back inside but I've been keeping an eye on the place. It's been quiet," Missouri told them. "No sudden deaths, no freak accidents...Why is it acting up now?"

"I don't know," Sam looked down at the carpet covering the floors. "but Dad going missing, Jessica dying, and now this house all happening at once? It just feels like something's starting."

Dean pressed his lips together. "That's a comforting thought."

Julia knocked on the door of the Winchester's old home, tapping her foot as she waited next to Missouri on the front step. Now that they were back at the house, Julia felt a little off. She didn't know if it was because Missouri's presence was strengthening whatever sensitivity—as the older woman called it—she had but she felt a weird energy around the house that didn't seem human.

It was making her anxious.

Jenny opened the door, looking upset and clutching Richie tightly against her chest. "Sam, Dean, Julia," she greeted them in confusion. "What are you doing here?"

"Hey, Jenny," Sam greeted her gently, noticing how upset she was. "This is our friend, Missouri."

Missouri nodded at her in greeting.

"If it's not too much trouble, we were hoping to show her the old house," Dean requested. "You know, for old time's sake."

"No, you know, this isn't a good time," Jenny denied them politely, her eyes sparkling with tears. "I'm kind of busy."

"Listen, Jenny, it's important—"

Missouri smacked Dean on the side of the head, causing him to grimace and grunt in pain. "Give the poor girl a break. Can't you see she's upset?" she snapped at him before turning to Jenny with an apologetic look on her face. "Forgive this boy, he means well but he's not the sharpest tool in the shed...but hear me out."

"About what?" Jenny asked, confused.

"About this house."

A flash of fear flickered in Jenny's eyes. "What are you talking about?"

"I think you know what I'm talking about," Missouri said knowingly. "You think there's something in this house. Something that wants to hurt your family, am I mistaken?"

Jenny stiffened. "Who are you?"

"We're people who can help," Julia spoke up, giving her a supportive smile. "We can stop this thing but you have to trust us a little."

Jenny reluctantly let them in. Missouri explained a little about who she was and what she did to Jenny. When Jenny was able to absorb that something was going on in her house that she didn't understand, she allowed them to go upstairs so Missouri could see if she felt any energies that didn't belong.

Missouri led them to the last room in the hall; it was painted light blue with stickers placed here and there on the walls and a butterfly comforter on the bed. Julia assumed that this was Sari's bedroom.

"If there's a dark energy around here, this room should be the center of it," Missouri told them as she looked around the room carefully.

"Why?" Sam asked.

"This used to be your nursery, Sam," she answered him. "This is where it all happened."

Julia's eyes immediately went to the ceiling like she was expecting there to be a mark or sign of Mary's horrific death. There was nothing and it was had a nice beam design, which relieved her. When she saw Dean look up, too, she grabbed his hand and gripped it tightly.

Dean pulled his EMF device from his jacket with his free hand, taking the comfort Julia offered. As the device buzzed and lit up, Missouri looked over at him.

"Is that an EMF?" she asked. Dean nodded, causing her to scoff. "Amateur."

Dean glared at her and Sam nudged him, silently warning him to behave and get along with her.

"Come here, Julia," Missouri spoke up, looking over at the youngest of the group who was fidgeting nervously. Julia gave her a confused look, let go of Dean's hand, and walked over to her. "I can feel your aura reaching out. You can sense something, can't you?"

Julia nodded jerkily, briefly glancing back at Sam and Dean to see that they were looking at them with confusion. Missouri was right; she did sense something. It was faint but it made her scared.

She didn't know exactly how to explain it but it was like she could feel the darkness in the room. It was pulsing with negativity and wickedness that had her scalp tingling and her hands shaking. She had never been afraid of her abilities—if that's what they actually were—but this made her afraid.

Missouri gave her a knowing look. "I want you to take a deep breath in," she instructed her. "and then slowly exhale. Really focus on what your mind and body are telling you."

Julia did as she was told, closing her eyes, taking in a deep breath, and slowly letting it out. She flinched from the violence she felt—whatever was here wanted to kill and it was stubborn. But...there was also something else. It was hidden by the dark presence but she could feel a slight gentleness from it.

When she opened her eyes, Missouri nodded at her before turning to the brothers who had been silently watching both of them.

"I don't know if you boys should be disappointed or relieved," she told them. "but this ain't the thing that took your mom."

"Wait, are you sure?" Sam stiffened, sure that there was something bad among them; Missouri nodded. "How do you know?"

"It isn't the same energy I felt the last time I was here," she explained. "It's something different."

"What is it?" Dean pressed her as she walked over to the closet and opened it.

"I think there's more than one," Julia spoke up hesitantly; Dean and Sam's eyes flashed over to her. "I mean, that's what I felt."

"Well, you'd be right," Missouri confirmed for her as she stood in the middle of the walk-in closet.

Dean stiffened. "What are they doing here?"

"They're here because of what happened to your family," Missouri informed Sam and Dean. "You see, all those years ago, real evil came to you. It walked this house. That kind of evil leaved wounds and, sometimes, wounds get infected."

Sam shook his head. "I don't understand."

"This place is a magnet for paranormal energy," she elaborated. "It's attracted a poltergeist. A nasty one that won't rest until Jenny and her babies are dead."

"And you and Julia said that there was more than one spirit," Sam pointed out, hoping that the other spirit was something that would be taken care of easier than a poltergeist.

Missouri turned to Julia, gesturing for her to explain herself to her friends.

"It's hard to make it out," Julia intertwined her fingers and squeezed her hands together. "but I don't think it's as bad as the poltergeist."

Sam and Dean were quiet after Julia's observation; Missouri walked out of the closet, making her way back over to them.

"Well, one thing's for damn sure," Dean said firmly. "nobody's dying in this house ever again. So, whatever is here, how do we stop it?"

Julia, Dean, Sam, and Missouri arrived back at Jenny's house just around sunset. They were armed with hex bags full of angelica root, van-van oil, crossroad dirt, and more ingredients that Missouri didn't elaborate on. They needed to put the bags in each of the four corners of the house—north, south, east, and west—and they would be able to destroy the spirits hanging around unwanted.

While Missouri ushered Jenny, Sari, and Richie safely away from the house for the night, Julia, Sam, and Dean split up the levels of the house. Sam and Missouri would get the basement and hit up the south and east ends while Dean got the north end on the main floor and Julia was appointed the west corner on the second floor.

Julia firmly held onto the mallet and plastic pipe in her hands as she walked up the stairs and to the room furthest to the west. The room was clearly Jenny's—the walls were covered in dark floral wallpaper and had a king-sized bed shoved against the most western wall.

She walked to the side of the bed nearest to the window. Tapping the plastic pipe against the wall to find a spot where there were no studs, she kneeled down to get to work. She found a place close to the floorboard to put the hex bag and went to smash through the drywall with the mallet when something slid around her neck.

Julia squeaked in pain as the lamp cord tightened around her neck, harshly pulling onto her back. She hit the floor with a hard thud, reaching up to try to pry the wire from around her neck. Her air was running out as she tried to dig her fingers under the cord but it tightened and tightened until there was no room for her fingers to slip underneath.

Her lungs ached and she was sure she let out an inhuman noise as she struggled to reach for the hex bag in her cardigan pocket. She gasped loudly, trying to get more air into her trachea but it was too hard.

She could feel her pulse pounding behind her eyes as her body fought for the oxygen it was deprived of. She had heard before that suffocating to death was peaceful but she thought it was bullshit. Every part of her body hurt from lack of oxygen, especially her lungs and the muscles around her neck where the cord was practically attached to her skin.

Nothing was peaceful about it and she had a morbid thought as her body went slack. This was what it felt like for her mom when she was suffering from her lung cancer. The horrible disease had made it so Naomi couldn't breathe and was forced to use a machine that did it for her.

"Julia!"

Julia wheezed loudly as Dean collapsed at her side, reaching for the cord wrapped tightly around her neck. She tried to help him, Dean grunting with effort but the poltergeist was too strong for both of them.

Knowing that the cord wasn't going to budge as long as the poltergeist had its power, Dean pulled away from her weak body and searched for the flimsy pocket he saw her put the hex bag in before she went upstairs. He moved the cardigan over and found the bag, pulling it out of the pocket and lunging at the wall.

Dean kicked the wall a few inches from the trim, making a huge hole in the drywall. He hurriedly placed the bag into the enclosed area, making the room flash with a bright light that had him turning away to protect his eyes.

Julia wheezed again as the cord relaxed against her throat. Dean hurried toward her and knelt down, quickly unwrapping it from around her neck where a dark red line was forming.

"It's okay," Dean pulled her up toward his chest so he had easier access to the cord that somehow knotted behind her neck. Julia breathed deeply, her lungs aching and feeling bruised as they expanded with air.

She almost fell back against the floor, completely exhausted and too weak to move, when Dean had to take his hands from her to throw away the cord but he quickly caught her again. His hand was on the back of her head, pushing her face into the crook of his neck; Julia inhaled his intoxicating scent, relieved that he was there to help her in time.

Julia blinked sluggishly and finally closed her eyes, falling into a slight sleep.

When she woke, an hour had passed. The spirits were supposed to be gone, with all four hex bags in their places in the walls, but Julia still felt uneasy. Something at the back of her head told her that they weren't gone but waiting for them to leave so they could attack Jenny, Sari, and Richie.

Sam felt the same; he turned to Missouri. "You're sure this is over?"

"I'm sure," Missouri confirmed as she looked around the kitchen that was messy from Dean's confrontation with the poltergeist. "Why do you ask?"

If Missouri was sure that the spirits were gone, Julia had to believe her, right? She didn't have the experience that the older woman had so there couldn't be a way that she was right about the spirits still being in the house.

Sam shook his head. "Never mind. It's nothing, I guess."

Julia leaned her head against Dean's upper arm and he allowed her to stay, neither of them minding the company and the comfort that it brought them. She eyed Sam curiously, wondering if he felt the same way as her, but he didn't speak up.

That brought something to mind, though; how did Sam know all of this stuff? How did he have visions? Before today, Julia had signs that she had special knowledge and abilities but Sam? According to him, he'd been without these visions his whole life until a few weeks before Jess died. So, what the hell was going on?

The front door opened. "Hello? We're home."

Within seconds, Jenny and Sari walked into the kitchen—Richie being in the former's arms—and looked around wide-eyed at the mess they had made.

"What happened?" Jenny asked, shocked.

"Sorry," Julia croaked hoarsely in greeting. "We'll pay for all of this."

"Don't you worry," Missouri assured her. "Dean's gonna clean up this mess."

Dean gave her an affronted look, not moving a muscle.

Missouri wasn't having it. "What are you waiting for, boy?" she shrilled. "Get the mop and don't you cuss at me!"

Hours later, after Dean cleaned up the kitchen—Sam reluctantly helping a little bit—the three of them sat in the Impala outside the house. Missouri had left, confident that everything was over, but Sam and Julia silently conferred and confessed that they felt differently.

They convinced Dean that they needed to keep watch just in case something happened, not entirely being truthful about the reason.

"All right," Dean spoke up among the chirping of crickets. "So, tell me again, what are we still doing here?"

"I don't know," Sam sighed, staring at the house. "I just...I still have a bad feeling."

"Why?" Dean gave him a confused look. "Missouri did her whole Zelda-Rubenstein thing. The house should be clean; it should be over."

"Maybe," Julia rested her head against the cool window. "but I have the same feeling as him. That can't be a coincidence."

"We just wanna make sure everything is all right."

"Yeah, well, the problem is I could be sleeping in a bed right now," Dean grumbled.

"Dean."

For some reason when Julia said his name in that tone, he always quieted down.

"...Shutting up."

"Dean, Julia, look!" Sam suddenly exclaimed, pointing at the house.

The two of them quickly looked over, spotting Jenny pounding the window in her bedroom on the second floor. They scrambled out of the car, running toward the house at full speed.

"You two grab the kids," Dean ordered as he ran up the front steps. "I'll get Jenny."

He kicked down the locked door after a few tries and they rushed upstairs, heading to Jenny, Sari, and Richie. Dean went straight to Jenny's room, where the door was inexplicably locked while Julia went to Richie and Sam went to Sari.

Richie was sobbing in his crib, clearly scared out of his mind from the pounding sounds coming from his mom's room next door. Julia made rushed soothing noises as she hurriedly picked him up out of his crib, grabbing his blanket so he wouldn't get cold outside. She ran back out of the room with the toddler in her arms, almost running into Sam and Sari in the process.

"Let's go!" Sam urged her as he went downstairs.

Julia was on his heels, being careful not to trip at her high speed. When they made it to the foyer, Sam put Sari down and gently pushed her toward Julia, giving his best friend a pointed look. Julia nodded in understanding.

"Sari," she got the little girl's attention, grabbing her hand with her free one. "you and me are gonna run outside as fast as we can, okay? Don't look back."

Sari nodded and looked back at Sam, screaming shrilly when she saw that he had been grabbed by the poltergeist. Julia tugged on her arm and they took off, sprinting out of the house and into the front yard where Dean and Jenny were waiting.

"Dean," Julia handed the kids off to Julia. "It got Sam!"

After getting his sawed off and some salt rounds from the trunk of the Impala, Dean and Julia ran back to the house. The door was forced shut as they approached and it took both of them together to kick it down in two tries.

"SAM!" Dean shouted as they ran into the house.

By the time they got to the kitchen, Sam was forcefully pinned against the cabinets, unable to move. Across the room, an invisible figure surrounded by fire approached him. Julia didn't feel the evil energy of the poltergeist from it but Dean aimed his sawed off at the figure anyway.

"No, don't!" Sam stopped him.

"What? Why?"

"Because I know who it is," Sam told him. "I can see her now."

As the figure stepped into the kitchen, the fire around it disappeared. Mary Winchester appeared, her long blonde hair floating with the nonexistent wind. She looked at her sons with fond, loving eyes, wearing a long white nightgown.

As Julia gaped at the beautiful woman who birthed two of her closest friends, Dean lowered his gun. He stared at his mom in awe, his eyes stinging with tears as she smiled softly at him.

"Mom..."

Mary slowly walked toward him, her smile growing. Dean looked a lot like her; he got his green eyes, nose, freckles, and dirty-blonde hair from her.

"Dean," she breathed lovingly, giving him a proud look.

Julia's own eyes filled with tears as she grabbed Dean's hand and squeezed tightly, gulping at the smile that Mary gave her as she passed them. She slowly walked up to Sam, who was still in the poltergeist's hold.

"Sam," Mary greeted him; Sam laughed breathlessly, tears falling from his eyes. "I'm sorry."

Sam furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "For what?"

Mary didn't answer as she stared at him for a long moment. She silently turned back toward the living room, disappearing and reappearing a few feet forward. She stared at the ceiling with a dark glare.

"You," her voice trembled angrily. "get out of my house and let go of my son."

Dean tightened his grip on Julia's hand painfully as flames surrounded Mary once more. The fire flared brightly and raised to the ceiling, spreading and then disappearing all together.

"Mom?" Dean looked around frantically.

Julia sighed, feeling the relief from Mary's lighter energy colliding with the malevolent energy of the poltergeist. "It's done," she whispered as the force holding Sam fell away. "They're gone."

Dean frowned sadly and Sam breathed shakily, both of them devastated to see their mom for a last time before she suddenly disappeared again. Julia's heart ached so badly for them but she hoped that maybe seeing Mary could be a start to giving them some closure.

"Come here," Julia reached out for Sam's arm, tugging him toward her. She untangled her hand from Dean's and wrapped that arm around his waist, bringing both of them in for a hug at the same time.

When Sam rested his head on top of Julia's, his forehead reaching the tip of Dean's shoulder, he sighed in comfort. They were his family and he was so glad he had them around. Dean felt the same way; for the first time ever, he joined in on a group hug.

Julia and Sam sat side-by-side on the front steps of Jenny's house the next morning, watching as Dean looked at the photos of the Winchester family that Jenny had found in the basement. They had called Missouri to tell them about what happened the night before and she had rushed over to the house so she could check to make sure that everything was all right.

She did a quick walk around, trying to feel for the energies she felt the day before, before stepped out of the house.

"Well," Missouri sat on Sam's other side. "there are no spirits in there anymore. This time for sure."

Sam looked down at his feet sadly. "Not even my mom?"

"No."

"What happened?" he looked at her, hoping that she would explain how his mom had gotten rid of the poltergeist. Julia had said that she felt them both disappear at the same time, so he was pretty sure it had something to do with Mary.

"You're mom's spirit and the poltergeist's energy canceled each other out," Missouri explained. "Your momma destroyed herself going after the thing."

Sam pressed his lips together, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Why would she do something like that?"

"Well, to protect her boys, of course."

Julia smiled and patted Sam's knee comfortingly. Throughout their whole friendship, Sam had confessed many times that he felt disconnected from his mom because she died when he was only an infant. He didn't have the memories that Dean had of Mary and that rightfully upset him. Julia was glad that Sam knew that his mom would have done anything to protect him and his brother because she loved them so much.

"Sam, I'm sorry," Missouri apologized hesitantly.

Sam gave her a confused look. "For what?"

His mom had said that, too.

"You sensed it was here, didn't you? Even when I couldn't," Missouri stated, her eyes darting between both Sam and Julia. "Both of you did."

Julia nodded silently while Sam grimaced.

"What's happening to me?" he asked the older woman, fear coloring his voice.

"I know I should have all the answers, but," she shook her head slightly. "I don't know."

"Sam, Jules, you ready?" Dean called from the Impala as Jenny started walking back up to her house.

Julia and Sam got up from their spots on the stairs, giving Jenny smiles when she thanked them. The two of them and Dean gathered at the back of the Impala as Missouri walked over to them.

"Don't you three be strangers," she warned them.

"We won't," Dean promised.

"Julia," she called; Julia perked up at her name. "You take care of those boys, okay? They need you."

Julia looked at Sam and Dean, smiling softly. "I need them," she declared; they both grinned back at her. Looking back at Missouri, she nodded in a silent promise. "Bye, Missouri."

Missouri waved at the three of them. "See you around."

They all got into the car and settled in as Dean started the engine. Sam and Dean each gave their old house one last look. Dean pulled away from the curb, leaving the house behind in his rearview mirror.

(Gif is not mine)

#supernatural rewrite #dean winchester x oc #dean winchester x reader #supernatural #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x original character

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anotherspnfanfic · 5 years

Text

You Always Smell Like Smoke

A/N: This came from a conversation after Jensen posted those LAFD pics. Plus the bold prompts below.

Word count: 1300 ish

Warnings: panic attack

[[MORE]]

She pulled into the parking lot of the fire station and took a deep calming breath before climbing out of her car. It was barely noon and had already been an incredibly long day. She walked around to the front where she found Sam and Cas washing the truck.

“Hey! What’re you doing here?” Sam asked.

“Long story. Do you know where Dean is?”

Sam pointed towards the other side of the truck. “Right over there.”

“Thanks,” she mumbled. She rounded the front of the truck and spotted Dean. The sight nearly made her forget the reason she was there.

He was wearing his navy blue department t-shirt with his bunker pants, red suspenders holding them in place. She watched as he finished folding up a hose and hoisted it onto his shoulder. The sleeves of his shirt strained slightly with the flex of his biceps. He had turned to put the hose away in the side compartment when he spotted her.

He knew she was checking him out. They had been best friends for years. They had shared a handful of drunken nights together and they flirted regularly. But neither of them were ever looking for more. He decided to make a show of putting away the last hose. He lifted it a little slower and flexed more than necessary. Once he finished, he finally turned to give her his full attention.

“You’re drooling, sweetheart.” He winked once she made eye contact.

That managed to snap her out of her trance. “I was not.” She sighed, “I, kinda, need a huge favor.”

“Anything. You know that.” Noticing how stressed she looked, he added, “You alright?”

“Just a really, really long morning. I need a place to stay. My ‘no pets allowed’ apartment building is being fumigated for fleas.”

“Of course. You know you don’t even need to ask. The spare room is basically yours anyway.” He pulled her over to hug her tightly. “You got your key, or you need mine?”

She wrapped her arms around his waist and returned his firm hug. “Yours, please. Mine is in my apartment.

He continued to hold her until her grip finally loosened. “You wanna go hang out there, or you gonna stay here a while?”

“Um, there. I think I might try to take a nap.”

“Okay.” He led her inside to his locker to get his key. “If you need anything, let me know.”

“Thanks, Dean. I’ll see you later.”

She got to Dean’s house and curled up on his couch with the rest of the pint of ice cream she had left there the week before. She turned on a random documentary on Netflix, hoping it would bore her to sleep.

An hour and a half later, she was still wide awake. Her mind was racing, and she was even more exhausted. She decided to try to distract herself with a movie, since sleep seemed a futile venture.

She was surprised when she was being shaken awake. “I brought pizza, if you’re hungry,” said Dean as he turned towards the kitchen. “You been sleeping all day?”

“No, I saw the beginning of this movie,” she started, pausing to see how far in it was. “Woo! Thirty minute power nap.”

“Well you kind of looked like you were having a bad dream,” he stated almost as if it were a question.

“Huh, I don’t remember.”

“Alright, well, let’s eat and watch something better than this chick flick you have on,” he teased.

“You love this movie, don’t even try that.” She got up to grab plates as he pulled out glasses and poured whiskey in both.

“I plead the fifth. Either way, I’m in the mood for an action movie.”

About an hour into the movie, she felt a familiar tightness start to build in her chest. It had been months since she’d had a full attack. She was hoping that streak would continue. But within ten minutes, that hope was gone.

“I gotta pee,” she announced as she nearly sprinted out of the room.

“Want me to pause?” he shouted after her.

“No, I’ve seen it, it’s fine.” She actually wanted the noise so he wouldn’t overhear her. All the years they had been friends, she had managed to keep her panic attacks a secret. He knew about her anxiety, but not about this.

She closed the bathroom door and tried splashing cold water on her face. It did nothing to calm her as she began to lose track of her breathing. She sank to the cool tile floor as she tried to regain control while staying as quiet as possible.

He’s going to find out. He will be worried. He will be mad I’ve never told him before. Her swarming thoughts of Dean learning about this only fueled the attack. She was completely unaware how long she’d been in there when she heard a knock at the door. It sounded a mile away, and she wasn’t even sure she wasn’t imagining the sound.

Then she heard it again, louder this time. The door was cracked open before she heard him, “Did you fall in? You’ve been—” he stopped as the wheezing sound became clear. He pushed open the door to find her curled with her knees to her chest as she was hyperventilating.

“I feel like I can’t breathe,” she managed between shaky breaths.

He had seen enough panic attacks in his line of work to know what was happening. He quickly moved to sit behind her and wrapped his arms around her tightly.

“Shh, you’re okay,” he soothed. “Can you take a deep breath for me, just one big deep breath?”

It took a few moments, but she was finally able to take one big gasp and managed to exhale a bit slower.

“Good girl. That’s really good. Now, can you tell me five things you can see?”

She took another shaky breath and swallowed roughly as she tried to focus on his request. “Umm, toilet, shower,” she looked around quickly, “towels, scale—”

“One more,” he encouraged.

“Uhh, your toothbrush.” She finished.

“Perfect. Four things you can touch?”

“Floor, towel, cabinets, you,” she stated as she wrapped her fingers tighter around his forearm.

“Good. Deep breath and tell me three things you hear.”

She took another deep breath, holding it for a moment before she exhaled. “Uh, a dog barking, crickets, and, ummm, a clock, I think.”

“Yep, good job,” he praised her. “What about two things you smell?”

That one required her to take another deep inhale through her nose. “Your cologne and smoke. You always smell like smoke.”

“I do not,” he chastised, teasingly. “Last, one thing you taste.”

“Whiskey,” she said, more easily than anything yet.

“Awesome. You feel a little better?” he asked, tentatively as he loosened his grip around her torso.

“I think so, yeah. Sorry.” She relaxed and lolled her head lazily back against his chest.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for, sweetheart. I wish you’d told me so I could help, but I get it.” He shifted and lifted her carefully to carry her out to the couch. “How often do you have those?”

“Not very. It’s been months. Actually, years, since I had one that bad,” she explained.

“Do you know what triggered it?” He pulled a blanket over her before sitting where she could rest her head on his leg.

“Nothing? Everything?” She turned her head to look up at him. “I really don’t, just a really stressful day.”

“In the future, please, talk to me. You don’t need to hide it from me, okay?” She watched as concern settled across his features as he waited for a response.

“I’ll try not to. But, old habits die hard.”

“Guess that will have to be good enough. How about for now you just try and get some rest,” he requested. He ran his hand gently up and down her arm.

“Thank you, Dean,” she mumbled as her eyelids began to grow heavy.

“I got you, always,” he whispered as she finally succumbed to a peaceful sleep.

Tags: @deanwasscaredbyacat @muchamusedaboutnothing @babypieandwhiskey

#dean x reader #supernatural #spn fanfic #hurt/comfort #au!dean x reader #firefighter!dean #panic attack

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dalish-rogue · 4 years

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20 questions meme!

tagged by @lostinfantasies38 and @pikapeppa! <3

Rules: Answer 20 questions, then tag 20 bloggers you want to get to know better.

Name: Christine Nicknames: Chris, Fi Zodiac Sign: Sagittarius Height: 5′3″ Languages: English. I’m boring :( I wish I had been able to keep up with my Italian classes Nationality: American Favorite Season: Fall and winter (I love to be snuggly in blankets and sweaters, and I love crispy leaves and SNOW which we haven’t gotten nearly enough of this winter ;-;) Favorite Flower: Tulips, but I love flowers in general Favorite Scent: Lavender, bergamot, pretty much anything that’s floral/spicy/musky/fresh (I’m not much a fan of sweet scents, at least as far as candles and perfumes are concerned - and I LOVE me some candles :P) Favorite Color: Navy blue, hunter green Favorite Animal: I don’t really have one :( Is that sad? Growing up, my answer was always horses, but I guess I just don’t have a particular affinity for any specific animal anymore :\ maybe dogs?? Favorite Fictional Character: I tend to fixate on one obsession/fandom at a time, so for the sake of this blog we’ll say Anders :P if you ask me during one of my weeb phases the answer will be Kakashi Coffee, tea, or hot chocolate: COFFEE. Although I do love tea as well! I tend to drink tea more in the late afternoon/evenings, while I absolutely neeeed my cup of coffee in the morning. Average Sleep Hours: Usually 5 hours on a work night, anywhere between 7-9 on a day off (although last night it was around 10 lmao) Dog or Cat person: Dogs, although if I could have either in my apartment, I would! Number of Blankets Slept With: A BUNCH LOL flannel sheets + comforter + three additional blankets of varying warm materials :D I like to cocoon myself in a blanket fortress, much to my bf’s dismay Dream Trip: I’d love to have enough time off to go somewhere far, like Japan or New Zealand or Bali or something. I’m fortunate enough to do a lot of travelling when I’m off from work, just can’t get enough consecutive days to do a big trip. :’) Italy is another dream trip, but that one will hopefully become a reality this year! And I’ve already visited Iceland, but it’s my favorite place I’ve ever been, so I dream of going again (hopefully this year too!) Blog Established: February 2019 I think? Followers: More than I ever thought I would when I started this blog shortly after completing Origins to share my overwhelming love for Alistair! Random Fact: I’m 30 years old and don’t have a driver’s license :P never even learned to drive! I’ve lived in NYC my entire life so I’ve never really needed to know (although I probably should at least learn) - but I love walking places :)

Tagging: omg I’m so lazy with tagging, I never know who’s already been tagged and I’m super late with this as it is! if you’re bored and procrastinating from doing something productive (like I am), feel free to fill this out and tag me so I can see your answers and get to know you! <3

#non dragon age #not da

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weracetogether · 5 years

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The Thunder Rolls and the Lightning Strikes...Riding RAGBRAI Day 1

Day 1 of riding... across a state... with a bunch of strangers (and a surprisingly large number of Pensacola Friends)... When you are not used to sleeping in a tent, on an air mattress, it takes a couple days to adjust. Night 1 in the tent was not great. I was startled awake in the evening by a fun fireworks show at Council Bluffs RAGBRAI. I was startled awake in the morning by a massive thunderstorm. Day 1 is really the best day for inclement weather. Everyone is usually at their best and most rested. Spirits, energy, and patience is all very high. We meandered around the campsite, a harsh "field" the night before that had become a slick mud pit with the rain. Clay-based mud seemed to stick to everything, steal cleat covers (Kevin), and cake on the bottom of cycling shoes. Seriously, we scraped and wiped and cleaned our shoe bottoms for 40 minutes BEFORE we could start to actually clip into our pedals. With the majority of the storm passed, we took off. There was still rain, but the majority of the lightning seemed to be gone. It was supposed to be a 60 mile day with the optional 20 mile gravel loop. SIDE NOTE: I'm going to say "supposed to be" a lot, because our mileage records seemed to be in direct conflict with what we expected EACH day. This was our plan for day 1. Ride the first part of the day, including the gravel loop on our gravel tires. Take the time after the loop to change to our road tires, and push out the rest of the day with ease. For various reasons, the main one being Teresa's bike is able to have a rear rack and panniers (saddle bags), she was the pack mule for the week, so she happily carried everything except my snacks... who am I kidding, she carried my snacks too. Roads were slick so we did see some people loose control and crash hard throughout the morning. We took it easy and chipped away at the mileage before the Gravel Loop. We don't really consider ourselves Gravel riders, but we had trained for a couple months on the closest terrain we could find, at home, in Florida. There were differences.

Pre-gravel beef jerky snack and selfie/groupie.

We pulled up to a couple of guys looking out over the loose gravel rocks on the far side of the railroad tracks in Underwood, IA. It was overcast. I rolled up with apprehension. Teresa was SUPER excited. One guy was saying to the other guy, "I don't know, man." The other guy, wise beyond his bearded years says, and I quote, "Look, ask yourself this...in 10 years are you going to regret NOT doing this?" Apparently, the hesitant dude wasn't that committed, because shortly after Teresa and I started, only the bearded guy passed us. We rode for 3/4 of a mile before we hit the first hill. We knew the loop added some significant elevation, but weren't worried before hand. I slowly climbed that first hill, crested the top, and went barrelling down the other side. HOLY F*!KING SHIT. I literally thought I was going to die. LITERALLY. I came to a stop 1/4 of the way up the next hill, white as the gravel, breathing hard, and cussing like a sailor. Teresa came up beside me grinning like a Cheshire cat as I'm spewing expletives. "There's no F'ing way we're doing this. We're going to die. This is a bad f'ing idea. Shit...." It went on for a couple of minutes. Teresa was visibly disappointed at the possibility of skipping the gravel loop, so I committed to the next hill. We slowly climbed again, crested the top, and went down the other side with me on my brakes with that earlier bearded guy's words rattling around in my head, "...in 10 years are you going to regret NOT doing this?" I need new rear brakes on my road bike, now. To be fair, Teresa checking on me after that hill and I was of the mood - now is NOT the time to try to talk to me. So we kept going. Up slow, down slow - repeat. My mood improved the further we got. Teresa pointed out that she wasn't sure there would be patches for the loop. We later saw signs that implied otherwise, which further improved my mood.

The earned PATCH

We hit the mid-town for the loop, McClelland, just before another storm hit, but they had patches, food, shelter, and good news. It was only 4 miles back to the main route (pavement)! We actually waited for a train to pass before we could venture back onto the payment. But it was worth it. We made the loop uninjured and without bike issues so it was a win. Ultimately, I am glad we did it, but maintain it was BAD idea. We made it back to Underwood, and started changing tires for the remaining 50 miles left in the day. In the middle of a rainy (and now windy) Monday in a small town in Iowa, Bill found us. It's so much fun to have a familiar face in a crowd of strangers.

We actually caught up with Bill (again) and Laura multiple times on Day 1! I think this was Neola or Midden.

Avoca, I needed this.

From Underwood to Marne was kind of miserable because of the constant head-wind, but we did it. We stopped for beer, food (Mr. Porkchop), cinnamon rolls, and pie repeatedly along the way. I was especially excited about water slides in the City of Avoca, of which, video exists. ;)

More pork chop, now... please.

Teresa looked like she was carrying an octopus with the gravel tires sticking up on top of her rear rack. EVERYONE noticed and commented how bad-ass she was to do the loop. They were right. (I didn't garner as much attention).

To Teresa, by many: You did the gravel loop? And then changed your tires? Bad-ass! (or Awesome!) (or Hardcore!) (or Impressive).

Marne was also a pass-through city in 2001. I'm glad they kept the sign/photo op for 2019.

We made it to Marne, IA. This was the last town before our end-point for day one. We were about 10 miles from our tent and food and anything else that wasn't a bike saddle. We walked up the mountain into Marne and surveyed the Roadhouse Bar and Grill and party. Good times, but we really wanted to be done for the day, so with another piece of pie we headed back to our bikes. Now is probably a good time to let you in on a little secret. I, Patrick, have a hard time enjoying being on a bike. It baffles both myself and Teresa that I enjoy RAGBRAI so much. With that being said, at this point in our day one, I was over it. I HATE riding in wind. Period. And for the last 50 miles we'd been riding in a steady, signification head-wind, climbing up hill after hill. Seriously. Miserable. No more patience. No more understanding. No more compassion. How Teresa didn't kill me is still a mystery. I picked up my bike and started pushing it toward the main road when I hear Teresa say, "My bike's not rolling." ME -- "Is it operator error or mechanical?" - crickets....I'm sure a venomous stare was boring a hole in my head. We continued down the hill toward the main road. She didn't say anything else so I assumed it was operator error. I hopped on my bike and merged into bike traffic in time to look back and see Teresa try to follow and hop off her bike. "My bike's not rolling. It's not operator error - asshat." Broken spoke. Nice. We headed back up to Marne and met the traveling bike mechanics at Bike World. They were very quick and friendly which always helps. We actually ended up being on a first name basis with them as the week progressed - because Karma I guess. So far as I can remember, it was smooth sailing into Atlantic RAGBRAI.

If you are able, please help us support the Navy SEAL Foundation.

Patrick's Donation Page for Tampa BayFrogman Swim 2020

Patrick & Teresa are actively raising money for the Navy Seal Foundation. Supporting the Navy Seal Foundation-Frogman Swim

We've been blogging for a while now. If you enjoyed this one, you may enjoy others. Look though the Blog Archive on the right, for more of our experiences and random thoughts.

Thank you for your ongoing support of our adventures.

Please feel free to share our blog.

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#IFTTT #Blogger #Triathlete #Triathlon #WeRaceTogether

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itsthejuggernautbitch · 6 years

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NSFW PROMPT - COLOSSUS

There is a woeful lack of fun stuff for our beloved Tinman, but fear not, I have a prompt list and I’m itching to get writing.

Prompt: “Come sit on my lap, love.”

You’d had a hard day, to say the least.

This random asshole kid who didn’t know he was a mutant decided to suddenly gain his mutant powers, which of course had to be something stupid like the ability to manipulate water. Not that that’s a stupid power. It’s just that what he did with it was pretty stupid.

He couldn’t have flooded three city blocks with clean sink water, or just flooded the river a little bit. No, he had to flood three city blocks with sewer water. Three city blocks were covered in raw sewage.

A shit lake. A sea of poop.

Needless to say, you had to get one of the other residents of the mansion to hose you down before you made the shameful trek up to your bathroom for a very long, excruciatingly hot shower complete with a metric fuckton of soap. You could console yourself by considering that at least the kid was safe and not incarcerated in some torture house. The mood lessened when you remembered that you just bought those boots that were not very much ruined.

A solid hour of scrubbing and wash-rinse-repeating came and went, and finally, you left the bathroom smelling incrementally better and feeling a little less suicidal.

Your bed, while dressed in the usual utilitarian, boring navy sheets and blankets, looked better than even the sweetest four-post canopy memory-foam bed at that moment. You flopped down on the bed, not even bothering to pull the sheets back. And why bother to get dressed when you could just leave your towel on and stretch out across the bed? Wet hair be damned, the tangles could be combed out in the morning. Your pillows were singing a sweet siren song and your body was answering the call.

You were halfway to dreamland when a knock came at your bedroom door. As gentle as that knock was, there was no mistaking the echoing clang that reverberated after the impact. Which meant that Colossus was on the other side of the door.

As lovely and sweet as it was for Colossus to check on you, sleep would be lovelier and sweeter. But it’s not like you were going to tell him to go away. A hug to end this shit-show of a day would be nice too, and one thing you would never pass up was a Colossus hug.

“Come in!” you called, not moving from the bed. Your door was always open (which was a little awkward sometimes).

Colossus peeked his head in, taking note of your rather pitiful form. “I heard you had a rough day?”

“It was quite shitty, if you will.”

He chuckled and slid the rest of his body past the threshold of your room, closing the door behind him. “Language, my love. But the effect is not lost. Do you want to talk about it?”

You sat up and stretched, your shoulders cracking. “I’d rather just forget about it. That much sewage is… not something I want to think about before bed.”

“Fair enough,” he replied.

You groaned, sniffing yourself. It was like the scent of the sewer was still stuck in your nose. “It’s gonna take days to wash the smell out. Let me get dressed, I guess. I’ll sleep downstairs tonight since I still… smell…”

Colossus sat down next to you; the bed frame screamed in protest, but didn’t give. He pressed his nose against your damp hair, taking in the scent of you. “I smell nothing out of the ordinary, nor would I ever have you sleep downstairs.”

“You can be honest.”

“Am I ever anything but?” Colossus replied, brushing your damp hair away from your face. “Will you allow me to cheer you up a little?”

“I don’t think I’m really in the mood for any ‘cheering up.’”

“That is not what I meant. I could hear your shoulders cracking earlier. I can at least help make you more comfortable.”

You didn’t really even have to think about it. Much like a Colossus hug, a Colossus massage was just something you just didn’t turn down, no matter how tired you were. With any luck, he’d put you to sleep and then come to bed himself.

“That would be excellent,” you said.

“Then come sit in my lap, love.”

You positioned yourself in his lap, your back to his chest. You would be hard-pressed to find a better seat in the house because, while he was large and metallic, his skin was quite soft when he wasn’t tensed or defensive. Which meant those thick thighs and soft lap were all yours.

His hands engulfed your shoulders, pressing and prodding and kneading. He was exceedingly gentle in everything that he did. He had to be - he was seven feet tall and huge.

Colossus pressed a particularly tight knot in your neck, rolling the pads of his thumbs around the knot. His breath against your neck was warm. His voice hummed in your ear as he worked, sending a spark through your spine that was just enough to make your nipples prickle.

This was fantastic. While you hadn’t really been planning on getting frisky that night (daily trauma will ruin your libido), it was hard not to get a bit aroused when you could feel his dick flush against your butt. And his hands. God love him, those hands could tear your apart without even doing anything remotely dirty.

You squirmed in his lap, adjusting yourself, leaning into his hands. “Hey, big guy?”

“Hmm?”

“I think I could use a little ‘cheering up,’ if you don’t mind.”

“As you wish, my love,” Colossus said, scooting further back on the bed. “Lay back against me.”

You did as you were bade, your towel slipping down a little. You didn’t bother to adjust it. It was in the way anyway.

His voice in your ear was soft and deep. “Is there anything in particular that you would like for me to do?”

“Take care of me, please?”

“Just relax, then.”

He went back to kneading your knotted back, his fingers deftly pulling out the tension in every dip of muscle. His lips at your neck mouthed patterns into your skin, prayers against your flesh, his teeth barely scraping the hollow of your throat. That’s what he did best - he specialized in purveying a slow, agonizing build that made your toes curl and your fists grab at his thighs.

Colossus’s fingers dipped below the tie of your towel, loosened it, and let it slip down over your stomach. You hissed as the cold air caressed your front, making your nipples peak. You laid the back of your head against his shoulder and let him work.

One hand slid up your belly while the other slid down, down. He took your breast in his hand, circling your nipple but not touching. His other hand caressed your thigh, devilishly close to your aching clit, but not quite close enough.

You arched into his touch, begging him to please touch you. You felt his grin against your cheek, and as much as he was destroying your self control, you knew that you were testing his as well. You could feel him pressed into your back, hard and aching, but you knew he wouldn’t ask you to reciprocate. That’s not what he was meant to do at that moment - perhaps later.

His fingers traced the line of your clit, feather light, before dipping down to test how wet you were. He was not disappointed; you were practically dripping into his lap, and he’d barely touched you.

“How’s this?” he asked, voice rumbling straight through your spine.

Words were not especially effectual at that moment. “Mhmmm.”

“Relax for me. I’ve got you.”

He slipped a single digit into your cunt, slowly, slowly, enjoying the whine that passed your lips. Yeah, his fingers could definitely get the job done - one was almost enough. And yet, not quite enough.

He pumped his wrist, pulling his finger in and out, in and out, before adding another finger to the first. His slow, languid movements were torture; you dug your fingers into his thigh, making your best effort to tell him to hurry the fuck up without actually using words.

Colossus got the hint.

His fingers curled, thrusting, knuckle-deep in your cunt. You clenched down on him, a hard moan spilling from your lips. He shushed you gently, before curling his fingers again. Really, there was nothing you could do to stop that sound.

“We don’t want to be overheard…”

“Stick your finger in my mouth then, because I definitely can’t not make that sound.”

“Ah, but I need that hand. Let’s see how quiet you can be.”

It’s his own fault if you’re overheard then, you thought, before thoughts seemed a bit too much work for you. The hand that had been pinching your nipple slipped down to work at your clit, circling and rubbing until the burn started building deep in the pit of your stomach.

You had to stuff your fist in your mouth to hold back the moan, but even that couldn’t completely stifle the repetition of his name from spilling past your fist as you came. Somewhere in there was a please don’t stop and a fuck me and don’t you dare say a thing about my language. So, no, not quiet at all.

When you’d finally stopped begging, he slid his fingers out, picked up the edge of your towel, and cleaned you up. Where your back had been arched in a hard bow, you now sagged boneless against his chest. He brushed your hair back away from your face and kissed your forehead.

“Did that help?” he asked, a bit amused. You must have looked quite a mess; he wasn’t nearly as flustered as he usually was.

Polysyllabic words were still too far beyond your reach. “Yep.”

“Shall we go to bed now?”

“Mhm.”

Colossus carefully lifted you up and set you gently back on the bed. He peeled his leather uniform off and tossed it to the side (all cleanliness forgotten in favor of nudity and snuggles). He pulled you into bed with him, tucking your head underneath his chin.

“I’ll return the favor in the morning,” you said, your voice muffled by his massive chest (you kind of liked stuffing your face between his pecs).

“If that’ll cheer you up, my love,” he replied, chuckling at the returned huff.

#colossus #MCU!colossus #colossus x reader #colossus headcanons #colossus imagines #deadpool #deadpool headcanons #deadpool imagines #MCU!deadpool

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lolcat76 · 6 years

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Perdu

your-otp-prompts

Your OTP is dead and both of them live together happily in the afterlife…. until they find out Person A is due to be reincarnated. Person B refuses to spend the rest of existence without them and asks to be reincarnated too. They then spend their new mortal lives trying to find each other again.

@okaynextcrisis just a THOUGHT in case either of you are BORED and/or NOT ENTIRELY FILLED WITH ANGSTY FEELS“I think you were right,” Bill said as he sat on the side of the bed next to her. “The Gods – or God – they exist.”

Laura sighed and stretched, one long leg creeping out from the covers to tease his thigh with her toes. He always woke before she did, long before they’d found themselves in this cabin, where the days were always sunny and the nights were just cool enough that she needed to curl into him to stay warm. Back when she’d fall asleep without him, and wake up with him breathing ambrosia, or worse, Joe’s rot-gut on her neck. Even in the throes of his worst hangover, he was still awake before she was, breathing a night of regrets into her skin as he tried to keep the chill of mortality from creeping any further into her bones.

Then, he woke her with reports and updates. Now, he woke her with random thoughts. Was your hair always this red, or is it just the sun here? Are there fish in that lake? Is it against the rules to find out? There’s a constellation of freckles that looks just like Virgon on your chest. When I was a kid, we had a dog that kicked in its sleep, but damn, woman, nothing like you.

Non-sequiturs and random thoughts, but never theological debates, and she was too warm, too comfortable and too naked to engage in any sort of deep conversation. “Hmmm...I would have thought the cabin and the pantry that’s always stocked with food was enough to tip you off on that score.”

“I had a pretty good idea,” he agreed.

She liked his ideas, especially here, especially now, where there was no concern of infection or exhaustion or dropping dead while he rambled about gardening. She had some damn good ideas as well. Laura wiggled a little closer to him, her arms escaping the comforter to wrap around his waist. “If you want further proof, come back to bed, and I’ll shout them, or him, or whomever, down again just for you.”

He didn’t pull away – he never pulled away from her, not once, not since that first handshake after the end of the worlds – but he didn’t come any closer. This was apparently a serious conversation. Laura tucked the duvet under her shoulders. “Bill? What brought this on?”

“We had some guests this morning.”

Guests? They didn’t have guests. That was the trade-off – sacrifice for the good of humanity, die of cancer, and walk around naked if she so chose in her little cabin in the afterlife. She’d held up her end of the bargain, so why the frak were they suddenly worrying about guests?

Gods, if it was Ellen Tigh, she’d give up her immortal soul here and now.

“Maybe guests is the wrong word,” Bill sighed. “Landlords? And I guess our rent is due?”

“Bill, you know you’re awful at metaphors. Talk to me. What’s going on?”

He shrugged, the grin her teasing brought to his lips not quite reaching his eyes. “All this has happened before, and all this is happening again.”

He was even worse at quoting Scripture than he was at metaphors. “Meaning?”

“Meaning, I’ve been told I’m going back to Earth.”

***

Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no. She was not spending the rest of eternity alone in a cabin. She was not giving up Bill, not just when she’d gotten used to his snoring and was finally able to live with him without wanting to smack him every time he asked her why she didn’t just wash her dish rather than leaving it in the sink.

No. She might not have been the most devout follower of the Gods, but she was devout enough. And sure, she thought Baltar’s sermons were 97% bullshit, but she’d believed in the other 3%, so why the hell were the nebulous Almighties showing up now and ruining her happily ever?

No. She wasn’t losing Bill again. Not now, not ever.

Laura kicked off the covers and dug through the rumpled bedclothes at her feet to find the t-shirt she’d tossed aside last night. No, she muttered as she tugged the shirt over her head, no, not this time. She pushed him out of the way and strode into the living room of their cabin, ready to do battle with…with what, exactly?

They didn’t have a phone, and even if they did the cabin didn’t have a phone book. She couldn’t just look up Gods Comma The in the Yellow Pages, punch in a phone number and insist that whatever holy beings were in charge of their interior design report for the full Roslin interrogation. She didn’t even have a damn airlock here.

She might have been the more faithful, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t shove a deity or two out an airlock if it meant keeping Bill with her.

But deities were nowhere to be found, and she was left standing in one of Bill’s old t-shirts and bare legs, trying to choke back tears at the realization that if this was going to happen, there was nothing – nothing – she could do to stop it.

“Laura?’ Bill asked. So hesitant. He hadn’t been timid around her since she was dying of cancer. He wrapped his arm around her waist, so gentle that she could almost feel him slipping away.

There was nothing she could do to stop it. Nothing, except this. She twined her fingers with his, squeezing so tightly that she was almost certain she’d broken a bone. Hers or his, she couldn’t tell, and didn’t particularly care.

“You’re not leaving me again. I don’t care what they said, I’m holding on to you and I’m never letting go. If they want you, they have to take both of us.”

***

It was her little ritual to mark the day her life fell apart with a strong drink in a shitty bar. Counterintuitive, but she had a sick appreciation for life’s little ironies. A shitty bar was where Rick told her he wasn’t going to leave his wife, and a strong drink was what led her to wrap her car around a telephone pole.

If she’d been as good a drunk then as she was now, she could have made it home, her car, her criminal record, and her unborn child intact. But, shit happened, and she was perfectly happy to revisit her past mistakes every year on this day. Maybe this time would be the time she’d finally get drunk enough to really wreck her car and never wake up. Practice makes perfect.

“All this has happened before,” she muttered, before throwing back another shot of tequila.

“All this will happen again.”

Laura looked up, her vision more than a little blurry. Most of the regulars at Joe’s knew to steer clear of her, if not by her attitude, then by the sharp tongue of the bartender who usually lectured her about being self-destructive, then dumped her in a cab. Rich coming from a man who was well past retirement age, but still pouring shots and cleaning up vomit. All this will happen again, she’d heard Jack say every Friday and Saturday night, when she’d been perched on her barstool. She’d never heard someone say it so…hopefully. As if all of this happening again was a good thing.

Maybe for him it was. This guy was new, and by the looks of his white starched uniform, not someone she wanted to know. Damn San Diego anyway. She should have moved back to New York or headed north to Los Angeles. Any city where she could hide among the freaks and dregs, instead of fighting for a spot at the bar with sailors and college students.

He looked a little long in the tooth to be a sailor, white uniform notwithstanding. He looked too old to be in a bar like this, and if she hadn’t just knocked back her fifth shot of tequila – Your last shot, young lady – she might have thought she was too old to be there as well.

“What do you know about what’s going to happen again?” She wobbled on her barstool, and she would have fallen off if he hadn’t grabbed her by the belt loops of her jeans and jerked her upright. She yanked his hands from her jeans and slapped them on the bar. “I didn’t ask for a hero.”

“I didn’t volunteer.” He smiled at her. Warm, his smile. Warm, his voice, too low and rough to be safe. Warmer still, his hands curling into hers.

They fit, his callused fingers twined against her own. Laura hadn’t held hands with a man since the accident that had broken 17 bones in her body, including four in her hand, but damn if his grip didn’t fit perfectly in hers.

Jagged edges looking for a match. If she were less drunk, she’d be pleased. If she were more drunk, she’d fuck him on the spot. She was just drunk enough to know that whatever this was, it was a bad idea. “I’m going home.” She slapped a couple of bills on the bar and pushed herself off the stool.

“That’s only two bucks,” Jack yelled after her as she weaved past Chads and Brads and Tyffinies and sailors, but Jack knew she’d be back. She’d make it right with him tomorrow, or the next day. Tonight, she needed to get the hell out of this bar.

She swayed on the street, punching in her password for Lyft again and again before giving up and muttering fuck it, I’ll walk. Laura made it halfway down the block before the night caught up with her, and she ducked into a storefront to throw up a night’s worth of booze and fish tacos.

“Happy birthday,” she whispered, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth.

“As far as birthdays go, I’m guessing you’ve had better.”

Yes, just what she needed, the creep in the Navy uniform following her home. “If you touch me, I’ll fucking rip out our balls and feed them to the rats.”

He shrugged. “In San Francisco, I’d be worried, but this is San Diego. There are no rats.”

Not with four legs, anyway. “Whatever you think is going to happen, I can assure you it won’t.”

He brushed her hair back, then offered her a bottle of water. She swished it in her mouth, then spat the remnants of $60 worth of dinner and drowned sorrows into the gutter.

“Thanks,” she said, and held out the bottle.

He grimaced “Keep it.”

“Well, I’m going home now.” She stumbled down the street and would have taken a header in the middle of Friday night traffic if he hadn’t caught her again.

“Do you mind?”

“Matter of fact, I do. You might be intent on killing yourself, but I don’t want to see it.” His hands were still on her waist, still holding her more or less upright.

“I’m not trying to kill myself,” she said, unsure whether she was trying to convince him, or herself.

“I’m glad,” he said, “because I’ve seen you die once, Laura Roslin, and I don’t want to see it again.”

Who the fuck is Laura Roslin, she wanted to ask, and she would have if those five shots of tequila hadn’t chosen that moment to knock her ass right out.

***

The first thing she thought when she woke was that she desperately needed to brush her teeth. The second thing was that she probably owed Jack an apology, and definitely a tip. The third thing was who the hell was in bed with her?

She was still dressed, more or less. Shirt, underwear, socks, but her jeans were gone. Cracking her eyes to survey her surroundings, she was relieved to see that she was in her own bedroom, and her jeans were folded nightly on her desk.

Small mercies, but it didn’t explain how she’d gotten into her own bed, or who was breathing on her neck.

She’d had awkward mornings after before; she could survive this one. Wake him up, send him home, pretend that nothing happened for another 364 days.

Only problem was, he was already awake.

He was always awake before her, waiting for her to open her eyes and smile at him before he got out of the rack and started his day. “I love waking up to you,” he said, every morning.

Dammit, Jack, she’d settle up her tab but she wasn’t giving him a tip if whatever he’d given her last night led to hallucinations like this.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” she said. Nothing better than bringing up bodily functions to chase a man from her bed.

“Okay. Go.” He rolled onto his side and burrowed his face into his pillow, breathing into her 800-thredcount pillowcases just as easily as he’d breathed into her neck.

Is this all there is, Bill?

“You don’t have to be here when I get back,” she said.

Is this all there is?

“You said you wouldn’t let go.”

“No, I didn’t.” Yes, I did. Didn’t I? She didn’t remember saying it, but it felt real.

“Go to the bathroom. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

She stared at herself in the bathroom mirror. Hair a little too processed, crow’s feet a little too prominent. She was too old for this, for waking up to a stranger in her bed. Even her robe, soft cotton instead of satin, was an old lady’s robe.

Is this all there is? A late night and too much to drink?

It was all that she had to offer. She tugged the belt of her robe a little too tight around her waist and ventured out of her bathroom, only to find her bed empty. Thank god, she sighed, breathing in a moment’s relief.

Until she heard pots and pans clanging in her kitchen. Why wouldn’t he just leave? She didn’t need to have breakfast with a stranger.

Saul will be here right after Jaffee brings breakfast, he said.

“Are you telling me you don’t want me to be here when breakfast is served?”

He pulled her closer, whispering the word no over and over again into her skin, brushing his lips against the ribs that had become too prominent in the last few weeks. “I want you to eat. If I could make you breakfast in bed, I would.”

Laura shook her head, trying to clear it from the fog of too much tequila and too much…whatever this was. She didn’t know any Saul. She didn’t even know this man’s name, or why he was here.

He was cooking her breakfast. Nobody had cooked her breakfast since college. He was making a mess of her kitchen, dipping low-calorie, high-fiber bread into an egg wash. He looked up and caught her eye, grinning at her as he dropped two slices of bread into a frying pan. “The French call it pain perdu, lost bread.” He gently laid a slice into her skillet. “Lost. How sad is that?””

“Lost bread.” Laura hummed. “It has a certain romance to it. Lost in what, I wonder?

“Do you really want to know?”

“No,” she admitted. She pulled plates out of her cabinets and folded napkins, waiting for breakfast to be ready. “I think I prefer things to be found, not lost.”

“From your mouth to God’s ears,” he muttered as he slid the French toast on her plate.

For the first time in she didn’t know how long, she thought God just might be listening.

#lolcat fic #spaceparents fic #Bill Adama #Laura Roslin #spaceparents #bsg #battlestar galactica

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sherlockmonkeesstartrek · 6 years

Text

Tagged!

I was tagged by @savoy-brown-shoe, thank you love.

Rules: Answer stuff about oneself and tag other people who might like to write one for one.

gender: Girl

star sign: Sagittarius

time: 15:39

favorite bands: The Beatles, The Monkees, The Hollies, Manfred Mann, The Mamas and the Papas, The Small Faces, The Kinks, The Everly Brothers, Dire Straits, Herman’s Hermits, Squeeze, Sweet, Crosby Stills and Nash, The Eagles, ELO

favorite solo artists: Bob Dylan, Eric Clapton, Buddy Holly, Chuck Berry, David Bowie

song stuck in my head: Pretty Flamingo- Manfred Mann

last tv show i watched: Walking with monsters. Like some old documentary about the life before dinosaurs... yup, that’s me...

when did i create my blog: Last year some time...?

what do i post: Mostly pictures of people I love, my fanfiction or random thoughts that come to mind when I’m bored... mostly about fandom things

last thing i googled: ‘Bbc Weather’ this morning because I wanted to know how hot it as going to be today. before that it was ‘Allan Clarke hollies’ for obvous reasons.

do i have other blogs: Yeah, a crappy little one called ‘Some Small Fics’ which have a ton of unfinished fandom/reader and slash fics on it.

do i get asks: Recently I’ve been getting more, but I rarely do.

following: 23

followers: 36

favorite colors: Purple!

average hours of sleep: 8 usually

lucky numbers: 10? I’m not sure but I guess 10/

instruments: Ok so I can play Piano and harmonica, but I’m now learning guitar too because it is literally the hottest instrument ever

what am i wearing: A dress. The top is striped black and white, then there is a red band before a navy blue skirt that goes to about mid thigh. That was oddly descriptive. Oh and socks, one with a hole in it...

how many blankets i sleep with: 2 duvets

dream job: Writer. I want to publish a book!

dream trip: Hmmm, not sure. Somewhere really remote in the countryside, Somewhere with a lot of nature where I could lose myself in my own stories.

favorite food: Calzone

nationality: English. Very English

favorite song right now: I’ve been obsessively listening to Carrie Anne by the Hollies but probably Long Cool Woman by the Hollies. This is constantly subject to change! XD I never can choose

Aww I like doing these. I tag @darkdarkmydesire though I think you’ve already done it before. Sorry ;)

#tags #song tag #the beatles #the monkees #the hollies #Manfred Mann

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dreamingofjoon · 7 years

Text

Yes Sir

Jackson Wang x Reader

Word Count: 5.135

Be Warned: Sexual Content

A/N. I never really found any Ceo!Wang fics that I liked so I wrote one:D

Sup. This moodboard was made by me. None of the pictures belong to me though so credit to the owners:)

It’s always the same old, same old. Piles of paperwork, boring meetings, and overtime. Overtime was never your favorite. Was it anyone’s? The office was quiet and the only sound was that of papers flipping on both your desk and about two others. It was supposed to be about time you got home with your wine and your pizza for the weekend but of course, people were depending on you. The only upside to this crappy night was the view. Your office had a clear view of CEO Jackson Wang’s office if he chose to keep his blinds open. When he didn’t it was your loss but when he did, you couldn’t be happier. You observed how intently he worked. His jaw clenching when he was deep in thought and letting go when he found a solution. He was often fidgeting with his sleek black pen when he wasn’t writing with it. His office seemed pretty spacious so he often stood up and would pace back and forth behind his desk, talking to himself it seems. It was a wonderful view indeed and you were grateful that although he had the same view of you, he never looked your way.

He was a handsome man, one that could make you melt under his gaze but that rarely happened. He’s rarely looked at you ever since you started working here. A few times in a meeting and that was it. He didn’t speak too often with people at the office but he made rounds and sometimes asked how we were doing before going back to work. But tonight seemed different. You prepared to go back to your work when you felt a presence burning a hole in your face. It wasn’t too intense, as if they wanted to be inconspicuous. You looked up to see no other than CEO Wang staring back. You sat there in disbelief as he stared. He fidgeted with the pen in his hand, twisting it around his long, nimble fingers. Before you could break eye contact, he did it instead. He lowered his head and then brought it back up further, allowing you to see his defined neck. He ran a hand through his hair and by his gestures, you assumed he had laughed as well. Your eyes were bugging out wondering what was happening when he locked eyes with you again. He got up but kept your gaze, making you feel smaller. When he got up and made his way to his blinds, you were feeling quite intimidated. He showed a small smirk and suddenly closed them.

You were confused. What just happened? Why was he staring? Was this a dream? You didn’t want to admit it to yourself but you had a small crush on Jackson, as did most women in the office. The only difference was, you didn’t throw yourself at him. You kept your meeting short and respectful instead of trying to flirt. You couldn’t really flirt anyway. It was never your thing. This ordeal made you wonder though, did he finally notice you? Oh, get over yourself. You knew he had work to do. He often spaced out, staring at random objects when he was deep in thought. You were probably one of those random objects this time. When he realized you were staring back, he probably didn’t want a pair of eyes in his office. It was common sense. But even if you were a random object, you were glad he finally acknowledged you. You finished your work and made your way out, thinking only about how he stared at you.

The weekend passed pretty quickly and you had to trudge your way back to the office one again. You thought it would be a normal day but it was chaos especially when it came to your female co-workers. You tried to ignore the others’ behavior and made your way to your desk. You were surprised to be greeted by a velvety red envelope on your desk along with a rose. The envelope held a letter that read:

A Night To Remember…

A Night To Forget All Else…

For This Night,

Come And Think Only Of Me.

The next few words showed a time, date, and an address unbeknown to you. You sat at your desk in disbelief for a few seconds. This was like a scene in a movie. You reviewed the invitation over and over again, mostly thinking about the date which was at the end of the week. As you were about to put down the note, your co-worker and friend, Ella, came to you in a hysteric mess.

“Hey, did you get an invitation too? What color is yours? Does it say anyth-”

You cut her off by shushing her, wanting to clear your mind without her additional questions.

“Yeah I got one too. I’m guessing everyone got one?”

“Yeah…no. Not that many people got one. A few guys and a few girls. Anyway, what does yours look like? Mine is black and I found it when I got back from getting coffee. It was on my laptop and I’m pretty sure it wasn’t there before. The ones I’ve seen are all black with a little W in the corner in gold and I’m so confused and yeah…”

She took a few moments to catch her breath, allowing you to think. This was a pretty mysterious party. Would anyone could come? Would anyone take credit for it? One thing was for sure. Some people would be mad they didn’t get invited. It was also strange how you seemed to be the only one with a red envelope.

“Hey, did you get something along with your invitation?” you questioned.

“No, why? Did you?”

“Yeah, I got a flower. I doubt it’s anything though. What does yours say?”

“It says, You are cordially invited to attend the banquet of the year. Hope to see you there, then an address, date, and time. But if you got a flower, dude, we have to talk about this. Someone might like you!”

You were in a complete state of confusion. Your invitation was different and you got a rose. It seems whoever was throwing this party was your secret admirer and you enjoying every second of it. You had only been in one relationship and that was in high school. You were starting to want some validation and your friends’ weren’t always enough. These kind gestures let you feel better. And appreciated.

Other than the buzz in the morning, things had mostly calmed down. You were working but your mind kept drifting back to the invitation and rose. You stared at it often, contemplating if you should go or not. It was all you could think about during your lunch break although you left it on your desk. As you walk back to your desk, with coffee in hand, you are surprised once again by a phone set on your laptop.

You motion to go pick up the phone and ask who’s it was when the screen lit up with a text message.

W 3:43pm: It’s yours, don’t worry

You were livid but mostly frightened. Who would play this kind of joke on you? This prank wasn’t funny and you were determined to get to the bottom of it. You looked around trying to see who was trying to mess with you.

W 3:44:Don’t be scared

W 3:44:I’m the one who invited you

W 3:45:It’s my party

Your anger was soon subsided but you were still scared. How did they know how you felt? How did they know what you wanted to ask? You had many questions so you thought about how to reply.

You 3:52:Who are you?

You 3:52:Why did you give me this phone?

You 3:53:Why are you throwing this party?

Your questions were many and your patience was running thin. You were still looking around, seeing if anyone would respond and someone did, but the response didn’t add up to yours. It was taking a while for whoever W was to respond so you put the phone down, getting back to work. You turned the phone off, and looked up to find closed blinds, per usual. You didn’t like it, but you dealt with it. You shouldn’t let this get to you and you shouldn’t go to this party.

When you got home, it was time for a hot bath. That’s where you always did your best thinking. The bath was soothing and calmed your nerves, though you were still deep in thought. What was with this guy? No one really threw parties at the office and when they did, it was cheap and simple. This seemed too intricate for any of your co-workers and WAY out of their price-range although it was well-paying. You had this condo, that said something about your income.

When you got out and sat in your bed, you thought back to the mysterious phone. You turned it back on, wondering if W had responded. The screen lit up and you were greeted by a text.

W 5:00:I can’t answer all of your questions but I can tell you your main question will be answered tomorrow.

W 5:01: Please come

W 5:02: You won’t be disappointed.

You laid on your bed, wondering what this meant. Your thoughts were scattered and you were still confused. You knew you wanted to tell Ella about it but that would have to wait for a while. Your thoughts let you drift off to sleep, still wondering about your mystery man.

The morning was quiet. There was no more buzz, just the normal sound of regular gossip. That was until he came out. You were spacing out, sitting at your desk when CEO Wang came out of his office which rarely happened. All thoughts of your mystery man were pushed to the back of your mind, focusing on your boss. He looked as good as ever. A fitting, navy blue suit with black, leather shoes. His hair was swept to the side. He was really young for a CEO and his bleach blond hair, accentuated that.

He made his way to the meeting room, making others follow behind quiet and confused including you. By the time you got to the meeting room with your notebook to write down what he may say, he was standing at the front of the room.

“Those who were not invited to the banquet are dismissed.” he said calmly.

Although many were confused, nearly half of the people vacated the room, wondering what this was about. You spotted Ella and made a beeline towards her, plopping in the seat next to her. She seemed relieved to have you by her side, giving you a relieved glance before returning her attention to the boss.

“Hello, as you know, there will be a party that will be thrown this weekend. I would like to inform you that this party will be thrown by me. I am W.”

As the room filled with gasps and little murmurs, you were at a peak of confusion. The CEO. W? You knew your eyes were growing ever so large every passing second. Your mind went into over drive with thought. You were only broken out of your trance when Ella grabbed your hand, squeezing. Her eyes were large too but hers were filled with excitement. You looked back at the man at the front of the room, in utter shock. He looked back at you, a smile threatening to emerge but he kept his composure. His eyes seemed playful, as if they were toying with you.

“This party was organized for a large group of clients but I feel like this group also deserves a break. You all seem to be the hardest workers that I have seen in this office. I would appreciate if you could attend this party. Please wear formal clothing. Don’t try to look rich, just look nice, be polite, and enjoy yourselves. You are dismissed.” he said before he walked to the back, making his way to the exit, giving you a small wink before exiting.

You were left with a blank. Everyone was gossiping while you were contemplating. The CEO?! The fucking CEO! You hadn’t ever thought it would happen! This wasn’t a television drama! The murmurs in the room wouldn’t stop. Some people were even yelling but who could blame them? The CEO who almost never talked to his employees, had invited this group to a party. He left you speechless until you felt Ella pulling you back to reality with her high pitched squealing.

“Dude, it was the CEO! Can you fucking believe that!? And I let you go last night but no, we have to talk about this. I’ll call you around 8. Stay awake, okay?”

You answered her with an absentminded nod and made your way back to the main floor. You sat down and looked at the invitation on your desk. You look up to find him standing there, grin on his face before the blinds close again. The rest of your afternoon filled with shock and confused thoughts.

8:12 had rolled around before Ella had called you.

“Okay, I remember you said you got flowers with your invitation. Let’s start there.”

You took a deep breath before replying, knowing this would be an interesting conversation.

“Not exactly. I got one rose plus my invitation was red instead of black like yours.”

“Either way, we both know that the CEO likes you! Oh my gosh! What are you wearing to the party? We have until Saturday.” she said the words so fast, you could barely process what she was saying before you stopped her.

“Okay, you need to slow down. I’m not sure if I’m gonna go yet.”

The line was quiet for a few seconds before you uttered a “Hello?”, wondering if Ella was still on the line.

“NOT GOING?! Y/N! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”

You pulled back, wanting to recover from the attack your ears just suffered.

“Nothing’s wrong with me! Calm down!”

You tried to calm her down, not wanting to hear her rant but she wasn’t going to be shut down.

“There has to be something wrong with you! You’re turning down the CEO!”

“I don’t think he likes me! Okay? He’s probably playing around with me. For all we know, he’s getting a kick from my reactions.”

Before you had gotten on the phone, you were planning on telling her about the new, private phone but that idea went out the window. She was already mad about you indecision between going to the party or not. You didn’t another reason to be yelled at.

“I really doubt that! We’re going shopping for formal dresses on Thursday!”

With that, she hung up, giving you no chance to respond. She knew that now you would be forced to comply and you didn’t appreciate her tactics. She knew you too well. You put your phone on your nightstand to charge, and suddenly you heard a vibrating sound. Speak of the devil. Like he’s on a schedule, he texted you right at 8:30.

W 8:30:Did I surprise you?

You hesitated on how you should respond. Of course anyone would be surprised. You couldn’t process that the CEO did all of this, for you.

You 8:32:I think anyone would be surprised

You 8:32:The CEO? wow

W 8:33:There’s nothing really wow about it

W 8:34:But would this be wow enough to bring you to my party?

You were surprised. Why was he so intent on getting you to this party? It was kind of cute actually, how hard he was trying.

You 8:36:I’m not sure if i’m coming

You 8:36:But why do you want me there?

You waited for an answer, never receiving one. You were just greeted by another cipher of a message.

W 8:40:Just come

W 8:40:You won’t regret it

You 8:41:And how can you be so sure?

W 8:42:I can guarantee it;)

You couldn’t help but feel a certain way over that text. Although you knew he didn’t want to scare you away, his commanding text felt authoritative to you as well as infuriating. Now that you knew who this guy was, it was easier to target your anger at someone. You didn’t want to give in too early so you tried to play hard to get, knowing you’d been caught in his snare already.

You 8:52:We’ll see then

You set your phone down, thinking you had won for the night. Instead, you were greeted by another text, picking up your phone almost instantly.

W 8:53:I’ll see you there then

He already knew he had you. It showed in his text. Although you didn’t win, you went to bed happy. It’ll be a fun week.

The next day, you came to work once again, not expecting anything. You were hoping for nothing but obviously, others had other plans for you. Sitting on your desk was a jet black box. You opened the box up to find a dress. A beautiful red dress that had lace everywhere. You wanted to take it out of the box but that wasn’t an option. You were at work and you were surprised no one saw it when you took the top of the box off.

You turned your head to find CEO Wang grinning at his computer which made a smile appear on your face. You didn’t want to show how happy you were but it wasn’t often you got gifts. Even less that you got noticed by men. You sat down, and before you knew it, Ella was speeding over to you to ask “What’s in the box?”

You were thinking about how you could tell her without making her scream. You were glad she was excited for you but that was no reason to let the whole office know. Instead you explained to her that she couldn’t scream, squeal, or attract attention. She agreed and you opened the box allowing her to see the contents. You could hear a high squeal threatening to escape but she kept it in. Her eyes grew large and so did her smile.

“I think it’s official, don’t you?”

“What’s official?” you raise an eyebrow questioning her.

“That he freaking likes you. What the hell else?!” she screamed in a whisper.

“Yeah, whatever.”

You blow off the comment, making Ella go back to her desk with a shrug, but inside you think she’s right. At least you’re hoping she’s right. You sit down, looking in his direction once again. He’s trained on his work once again but after you glance at his a few times, he catches on. When you finally gave up on getting his attention, he seems to catch yours.

W 10:32:Guessing you liked it?

You 10:33:How did you know?

W 10:33:You’re still smiling

You automatically tried to hide your smile, fearing he could use your happiness against you. Although you tried, it kept creeping out. You couldn’t help it. For once you were happy. You couldn’t think of a way to retaliate when you knew he was right so you kept your head down, away from his line of sight.

W 10:40:I know your still there

W 10:41:Look at me

The texts surprised you. You weren’t expecting for him to exactly care for where you had gone. You expected him to get back to work and not bother with you until it was over. When you peeked your head over you little cubicle wall, you saw him staring back, a smile on his face and a tiny heart in his hand. If you hadn’t been around, you wouldn’t have found it. You reciprocated his act, and a smile stretching from ear to ear, came over his face. He went back to work, glancing at you every few minutes. You think the party would be fun to g to after all. And hey, no need for dress shopping anymore.

The week had dragged on, the only thing getting you through it were the small texts you and Jackson had been sending each other. Finally, Saturday rolled around and you were readying yourself. Ella had found a date with a guy she had been eyeing for a few weeks so she would go with him. You were getting ready at home and when you were done, you stood back and admired yourself.

The dress hugged your curves and the back was exposed. The front had a low v-lineThe lace was comfortable against your skin and you had done your makeup and hair. You were ready for the night of your life. You were about to make your way out with your coat, keys, and clutch in hand when you heard someone at the door. You weren’t expecting anyone. It was late enough that no one should have been coming around. You walk towards the door, curious of who was standing outside your apartment. When you opened it, you were greeted by no other than the man of the night himself, looking better than ever.

He was wearing a red suit that accentuated every feature. His coat matched your dress but his black t-shirt underneath let his stand different from you. His hair was done, swept over the side in a wavy manner. His color bones were on display, and you were enjoying the view. As you continued to take in the view, Jackson was doing some sightseeing himself. He took in all of how you looked and finally spoke up.

“Wow, you look…amazing. You’re beautiful.” he said with a chuckle.

You felt heat rushing to your cheeks, embarrassed at the compliment.

“So do you.” you say back.

For a few seconds, you stand there watching awkwardly, waiting for someone to say something. You chose to break the silence.

“So the man himself, came to get me?”

He chuckled to himself, thinking about your comment.

“I came because I thought you’d be thankful.”

“I am thankful.” you said with a small push on his shoulder.

“Oh really? Show me then.” he said back.

You froze. You didn’t know how to react so you stopped thinking and let your body move. You took a step forward and allowed your self to kiss him. His lips were soft and they comforted you. He kissed you innocently and slowly. They made you feel like you were in the right hands and soon you were. His arms snaked around your hips, pulling you closer. You got lost in the kiss for a few more seconds before it was time to break it. Out of breath but happy with yourself, you set your keys down, and put on your coat. Your heels clicked on the floor, breaking him from his trance.

“Let’s go Mr.CEO. Wouldn’t want to be late for your own party.”

Once you got to the party, people were surprised that you were, well, you. Or that you had come with your boss. The first half of the night was filled with common socializing. You found Ella and her date and were happy to talk to her about what has happened while the men had a conversation of their own. You were happy that you attended. The food was great, the people were nice, and you came with a great guy.

Eventually, the night was getting quieter and you were talking more to Jackson. They were normal conversations. Your birthday, career goals, and what made you happy. You were surprised he even wanted to listen. When the party started getting rowdy again however, you and he slipped away. You were led through a grand corridor. The walls and floors looked more expensive than anything you’ve seen in person.

When you arrived at room with double doors and gold trimming, you heart was beating a mile a minute. Jackson opened the door and ushered you in, closing and locking the door behind him. You felt out place in the extravagant room so you stood in the middle of the room, very awkwardly.

Jackson made his way to you, slipping off your coat with unsaid permission and wrapping his arms around your waist. The location of your coat had been lost while you were looking at the glint in his eye. The fireplace’s flames, dancing in them, letting you feel a spark. You put your arms around his neck, anticipating his next move.

“Was this your goal the entire time? To get me alone?” you ponder with a raised eyebrow.

He gave a deep chuckle in response, giving you your full answer when he leaned in. He left some space between the two of you, allowing you to fill it and when you did, it felt amazing. His lips were just as soft if not a bit more chapped but the kiss wasn’t innocent like before. He kissed you sensually, with a hunger that wasn’t there before. Before you knew it, a soft moan escaped your lips. One of his hands moved to your neck, pulling you in a bit more.

When he broke away, he trailed his eyes up and down, looking at you with dark eyes.

“You look fucking amazing in that dress.”

Your cheeks got even more flushed, not expecting the compliment. He walked you over to the bed in silence, looking at you every step of the way. When you had fell on the bed, he looked at you with pleading eyes, waiting to take off the dress. When you nodded, he went to work taking it off. It was off before you knew it and he was staring at you intently. You were glad you bought a brand new pair of black, lace panties for tonight but you were also embarrassed. His eyes, made you feel squeamish and nervous. He was a handsome man through and through. No one could deny that. But you weren’t sure about yourself and his staring made it feel worse. You tried to hide yourself with your hands but he wasn’t having it. He gently took your hands away.

“Don’t hide yourself. You’re so beautiful. And I’m lucky *kiss* to *kiss* have *kiss* you *kiss* here.”

His words warmed your heart and his kisses heated your body up even more.

“I don’t think you’re that lucky to be stuck with me.” you said with discontent. You were happy he viewed you this way but he smoothed any uncertainties over soon enough with his actions. His kisses slowly lowered and his breath fanned over your clothed core. You tried to squirm down, trying to make contact with his lips when he moved his lips to your inner thigh. Kissing soft but sensual kisses up and down your thighs. You whimpered, wanting him to make contact with the place that needed most attention when he looked up at your needy, disheveled face.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit.” he said with a smirk before slowly taking off your soiled panties. His lips soon attached to your swollen bud, sucking lightly from the get-go. His mouth lazily slid through your folds, giving you great pleasure.

“Oh, fuck.”

A string of lengthy moans were spilling from you, music to his ears. Jackson circled your clit and sucked gently to give you just enough pressure. Soon enough, you were feeling that familiar fire in your stomach, wanting you to catch the high the high you were chasing.

“Jackson, Jackson, I’m so close.”

“Keep moaning my name and I’ll give it to you.”

Wanting to get your high, you moaned his name in long and lengthy syllables. He seemed to appreciate your compliance, speeding up and adding a finger. Or two. Eventually, you got the orgasm, you had been wanting. The pleasure flowed through you. You laid there, trying to catch your breath while Jackson stripped himself of everything he had on. You watched him as he undressed, impressed by his muscles. He had a beautiful body to add to his face and you were amazed at how attractive a guy could be.

He brought his body up to kiss your neck this time and you graciously made more room for him. His eagerness pleased you for some reason. His kisses soon turned sloppy but it was fine because you were already drench and ready to go another round. He lined himself up with your entrance and moaned at the feeling of his tip playing at your entrance. He slowly pushed himself inside, watching to see if you were uncomfortable with anything before he continued. He slowly thrust into you in the beginning at a pace you both seemed to find lacking. When you whimpered, urging him to go faster, he definitely complied. He lifted your knees a bit and started moving swiftly. At the rate he was pounding into you, you were definitely getting another orgasm tonight.

After a few more thrusts, his movements were getting sloppy and you knew he was close too. You gave no warning this time, focusing only on the waves of pleasure surging through you in raging waves. Jackson soon followed after with a string of curses falling from his lips. He collapsed on top of you, tired and out of breath. When he caught his breath, he rolled off and covered your bodies with the silky blankets at the end of the bed.

“That was great.” he said with a large smile, moving the covers up to your chin.

“Yeah…wow.” You kept thinking of the orgasm he gave you, hard-hitting and still amazing. When you tried to get up and put on your panties, he pulled you back in the covers asking “Where’re you going?” with furrowed brows.

“To get my underwear.” you playfully smack his chest.

“You don’t need them right now though, stay with me.” he said with a slight pout.

You didn’t want or need the underwear anyway. You rolled back into the covers, allowing him to trap you in his muscular arms.

“So, when’d this happen?” you finally question.

“What do you mean?”

“When’d you notice a nobody?” you said with a small chuckle.

With a furrowed brow, he answered, “Who’s a nobody?”

“You know I mean me.” you said with a slightly playful tone.

“All I see is hardworking *kiss* intelligent *kiss* beautiful *kiss* woman.” he said with a reassuring smile.

You were really hoping these kisses weren’t a habit. If they were, you would fall for them every time.

“You’re embarrassing me. I don’t even see me that way.” you say covering your flushed cheeks with the covers.

He pulled the covers down past your eyes and caressed you cheek saying, “If you don’t see yourself that way, I can help you. And I’d love to embarrass you more. Here, your place, the office, if you’d let me.”

“I think I already did.”

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