#its only like a summer job/few months but hey if they are hiring and its a cool store why not

[the-kipsabian]

its almost 4am (insomnia my beloathed) and my head hurts

but. i found a job i could apply for

someone send me enough strength to fill an application tomorrow

[littlemisslipbalm]

“Harry’s stylist, right?”

Summary: Harry and his personal stylist are great collaborators, on screen and off. She helps his visions come to life and in turn they’ve become close friends. As she helps him to bring his fashion dreams come to life during the Fine Line era, will some other dreams come to life as well?

or

Harry and his stylist go from colleagues to friends to lovers because they’ve been in love with each other from the jump

this fit is very important to this part lmaooo - I literally have no idea what to call this lol, anyway I've been sitting on this for forever and I wanted to get something out for yall and i love this story there will be a part 2 when i get to a writing mood. I love this story bc its my literal dream - anyway!! pls enjoy and reblog and lmk what you think :)

Word Count: 14k | Warnings: swearing, drinking, tame for now, should be smut eventually - aka slow burn (what else would you expect from me at this point i guess)

part 2

-

“Hey, H, I just had a question about one of the SNL outfits? Do you have a sec?”

Harry looked up from his phone and raised his brows at his stylist, Y/N.

Y/N had worked with Harry previously. In photoshoots for Another Man magazine and his most recent Gucci campaign. As well as some other random times, such as one-off award show looks and specific appearances. However, this past summer Harry had hired Y/N to work fulltime for him, exclusively. He had told her that he was planning on releasing his second album in the winter and he wanted someone there to help him plan his clothes for music videos, award season, interview appearances, as well as tour outfits.

Y/N stood just inside the doorway of the room, leaning her back against the wall, looking expectantly at him. Her eyes were wide and her lips were pursed. She was dressed simply in a white satin skirt and a matching cropped button-up, they both had cream flowers embroidered on, paired with horsebit slim Gucci mules. Her style was eclectic, but she had definitely noticed an increase of Gucci in her wardrobe since starting her employment with Harry.

Y/N’s passion in life was fashion and clothes and she constantly worried that one of Harry’s outfits wouldn’t deliver as much as she wanted it to. He was quick to tell her not to worry so much though, as long as they both were happy with it, how could anyone else not love it. Plus, he’d always add, it didn’t really matter what anyone else thought. But as more and more events began to crop up, Y/N’s worry over her work grew. She had only been the head stylist for Harry on projects that were still underwraps - except for Lights Up which had been released a couple weeks ago now.

The first project she ever worked on with Harry as his full-time personal stylist was the Lights Up music video. She had never worked so closely with one person for so long on just one project. Harry was insistent in vision and came in the first day filled with ideas, what he imagined for the video's concept and how he wanted to incorporate clothes. She had been happy to make his dreams become reality.

The two of them spent hours at his house for weeks, pouring over every detail of every outfit he planned to wear. They both wanted it to be perfect. And eventually, it all came together, exactly how they had planned. All of the garments for the video took up two entire garment racks. Y/N had made Harry pose in every single outfit for polaroids that she dated and then put into a lookbook she started for him. She had told him she planned to document every outfit she styled for him and Harry had been so excited. The outfits he wore in the video were received with praise when it was finally released, and Harry and Y/N were overjoyed. There was already a party for its release, but they both were especially happy that night. Throughout the evening, Harry and Y/N would gravitate to one another and fall into side conversations about the outfits and what people had been saying. Even if Harry said it didn’t matter, he and Y/N both knew, at the end of the day, they loved when people were happy with their work.  

“Sure,” he bounced to his feet, but Y/N made a hand motion telling him that he could stay seated. He settled back down as she crossed over and sat beside him on his couch.

She was at his house in London today planning his next few appearances that were promotion for the upcoming album, Saturday Night Live was next. Harry had been taking a break from their work until she had come in.

It wasn’t unusual for Y/N to be at his house, they had been working together for months now. First, it had been for his outfits in his music videos that were filmed in late summer and early fall, like Lights up, but also a few other ones. Now, it was clothing for promo appearances, interviews, and listening parties. Next, it would be tour outfits, which she had already started planning, but officially, they hadn’t started discussions yet. Harry had helped her to get a flat closer to his house in London just for her to be able to head over and help with the planning or fitting of his outfits more easily. She also was constantly traveling with him to his appearances, making sure outfits were perfect right before whatever show it was or making last minute adjustments in case either of them decided something wasn’t right.

While Harry was a big guy, his waist was far trimmer than a usual man built to his size, this meant she had to take in a lot of his trousers at the waist. As well, with his shirts and coats, she’d have to take them in or out depending on how Harry wanted the fit to be - either perfectly tight or perfectly oversized. He was particular, but she appreciated his drive for fashion and how he cared for his appearance. Before performances, she often had to take things in or out based on any body fluctuation that had occurred since the initial fitting.

She was looking at her sketchpad that held all of her notes on his clothes - which was different from the lookbook of polaroids - including patches of the actual colors and little Harry figures dressed in what he was going to wear. Right now, she had the pad opened to a page titled “SNL Opener - November 16, 2019”.

“So I was thinking with your opening monologue outfit, it might look better to have a different colored blazer? A matching yellow would be great, but if you did more of a toned down - maybe light tan or beige - blazer with gold embellishments, you’d elevate it to look sophisticated and stylish, rather than just stylish. It’d be exactly like the runway look - which I know you sometimes don’t like, but I think it’s what looks best.”

She ran her finger between two swatches of what she thought would be the better blazer color and the one Harry had originally wanted. He wet his lips and gazed at the page as he thought about what she said. Normally, she liked monochrome on him, but she thought the deep blue underneath a completely yellow suit might wash him out on the stage.

“Yeah,” he pointed to the top beige swatch, “I think I do like this better.” He paused and turned his head to Y/N, looking in her eyes before asking, “Is that all?”

“Er...no,” Y/N ran a hand over her unstyled hair, slightly fluffed by her constant musing of it. She often fiddled with it while she worked, better than biting nails she always said when confronted about her tick. After a sigh Y/N continued, “I was just on the phone with Jane from Gucci and she said that for Look 57 they could only send your technical size, for some reason they can’t custom make it. Meaning, I’ll have to tailor the whole thing to you when it arrives. Is that alright? Or do you want to choose something else?”

She flipped to a page that said “SNL WS.” Harry followed her hands and nodded realizing she was talking about the Gucci suit he wanted to wear for Watermelon Sugar. It was a watermelon’s inside red. When he had found out the suit came in that color, he had danced around the dining table for what Y/N had felt like was an hour, humming the tune of Watermelon Sugar excitedly. Finally, she had coaxed him to sit back down and get back to their other work, which was still picking out clothes.

“No, that’s fine,” Harry shook his head and used his thumb to scratch under his lips absentmindedly, “It really needs to be that color.”

She nodded, she knew what his answer was going to be, but she also knew he still liked to make the final decision.

“Alright, we’ll just have to meet for longer when everything arrives, to tailor that one. Then the rest of them should just be making sure the fit is perfect.”

She rose up from her seat and patted Harry’s shoulder, leaving him to his thoughts, as she went back to finish up the calls with Jane and the designers.

He caught her hand in his before she completely walked away, “Thank you, Y/N.” He was so grateful he had hired someone who was as driven as he was and understood his fashion sense and wanted to help enhance what he was thinking, rather than someone trying to control him or just going along with whatever he said. Neither would be productive or helpful, thankfully Y/N loved her job and cared to do things right.

She grinned before exiting, “H, you’re going to be this century’s style icon if it’s the last thing I do.” He laughed as she walked out of the room, leaning back on the couch to continue his lurking on Instagram.

-

One week later

“I’m here, H! I come bearing Gucci and more!” Y/N said as she shuffled through Harry’s front door, she held a deconstructed rack and a garment bag filled with heavy suits and things. Inside were Harry’s four most important outfits for SNL, some other garments for SNL, and some clothes they had talked about for his upcoming listening sessions later in the month. Y/N needed to check the fit on all of them and begin tailoring the Watermelon Sugar suit. The key Harry had given to Y/N, previously, had let her in, but she assumed he was home. He said he’d be.

When Y/N rounded the corner she found another empty room. Confused, she set down her large items and went to search for Harry. Y/N literally needed him to be here for this part. It was the only real time she actually needed to see him in person - but that was beside the point.

“H?”

She wandered through the different rooms of his home. Normally, Y/N didn’t go into the other rooms, she was always mainly in his lounge area, the dining room, and a little casual office room he had - sometimes the kitchen for water, his bedroom once. Still not finding him, she decided to venture to the furthest door, Harry’s bedroom, she remembered.

Harry groaned at the sound of a knock on his door, he rolled over in his bed. After a few moments of hearing nothing else than his groan, Y/N felt like she had to go in and check on him.

“H, it’s 12:30 and we agreed we’d meet at noon. Are you feeling alright?”

Y/N moved into the room and found a shirtless Harry surrounded by rumpled sheets, clutching at a pillow. He groaned into his pillow again in response. Her legs bent at the edge of the bed and she reached out to smooth some of his chestnut hair out of his face, “What’s wrong?”

He moved his head to allow his eyes to look at her, “‘M so tired, don’t know why. My stomach kind of hurts too…” Y/N looked at him quizzically, before running her hand over his tan forehead once more, this time checking for a fever. “You don’t have a fever. When did you go to sleep? Have you eaten anything today?” With her help, Harry moved into a seated position, head tilted back against the bedpost. He sat silent for a moment before blowing air out of his mouth. “Went to sleep kind of late for me, I guess...Haven’t eaten.”

“Ok, you’re just tired from staying up late, you old man, and you might be a little dehydrated and hungry. Listen, I’ll go make you some food if you get up and prepare yourself for the day. We need to get all your clothes fitted so that I can fix anything before next week.” Y/N was always good at getting Harry back on track when he got distracted - or even out of the station, when he wasn’t in the mood to work on something. She slid from her perch on the bed and walked to almost the edge of the room before Harry called her back.

“Can you pick out my clothes for me?” His soft, tired voice whined. “So hard...and you’ve got the best eye. Pleaseeee,” he pleaded softly.

Rolling her eyes, Y/N sighed and made her way back into his room. Crossing to the door that led to his walk-in closet, she set to work. As silly as he was being, she could never pass up on a chance to pick out an outfit for Harry.

“You’re literally going to be changing the entire time, H, you could have just thrown on sweats,” she called back to him once inside the smaller room. He repeated how she always picked the right thing, even for just around the house. Again, Y/N rolled her eyes at Harry, but she also couldn’t hide the warm smile on her face that was due to his compliment.

She couldn’t believe how dramatic Harry could be sometimes. Right now, he was a lesser form of hungover and he was acting like his life was ending. Y/N had made a note a while ago to never agree to a meeting on the day after any partying. She learned the hard way one particularly terrible Sunday. She had come round his house at a similar time, noon-ish and found Harry dead asleep, backwards in his bed. When she had roused him, his only responses were grumbles and groans. She had to not only pick out his clothes, but also help dress him. Then, after providing water and aspirin, she moved all their work into his bedroom so they could work from there. Harry had proved to be a baby when it came to hangovers.  But, she hadn’t realized he could get like this even without being truly hungover.

After settling on his live aid t-shirt, that Y/N was eternally jealous of, located at the front of his drawer and his favorite corduroy trousers, she walked out and threw them in the direction of his toned, but slumped body. “I will not get you boxers, that is most definitely not in my job description, Boss.” Y/N sent a pointed look in his direction, moving to finally leave the room. While he was technically her boss as her employer, their work relationship was extremely collaborative and it never felt like he was in control of her, she just liked to give him shit for being a drama queen.

“Guess I’ll be going commando. How’s that going to work with me changing in front of you a bunch of times?” He teased right back, taking the clothes you had thrown at him and giving them a onceover. His teasing signalled that he was already feeling better.

Y/N shook her head and walked out of the room, “For the love of God, Harry, please put on underwear before you come out and continuously strip in front of me!”

The words he shouted after that were muffled, but they were something along the lines of how the human body is beautiful and shouldn’t be covered up. Unbelievable. As she set to work on making both of them some lunch, she finally heard Harry begin moving around. They had a lot of work to do as it was and whenever Harry was in a mood, whether it be a good mood or a bad mood, they always seemed to have a hard time focusing.

One night, that could be seen as the poster child for Harry and Y/N’s procrastination, was during the planning for the Adore You music video. Harry was in a super good mood that day and he had brought that energy to their meeting at his house. Y/N was supposed to be fitting him for the various outfits, but Harry, in his mania, ordered an overzealous amount of Chinese food. It took her and Harry hours to even make a dent in the food. And while they passed the time with eating, Harry and Y/N got further and further from their tasks, opting for conversations that included more fun topics than work. They had gossipped about some of the other people they worked with, Harry had begged for “the tea” about some of his other staffers and Y/N was happy to oblige. As much as Y/N would hate to admit it, she loved when they got off of work subjects and talked about how their day’s had been and what has been on their nerves lately. It was a nice way to decompress, it was like hanging out with a friend, except it wasn’t, not really.

Harry shuffled into the kitchen wearing what Y/N had picked out for him. Her smile grew knowing that he hadn’t changed what she’d picked. His confidence in her and her abilities never failed to feel like the biggest compliment.

“Go sit at the dining table, I’ve made us some little sandwiches and then we can decide the order we want to go through the outfits in.”

Before following Y/N’s orders, Harry continued his shuffling around, first to the cabinet for a glass, then to the fridge for water. At the end of the table, she set the plates between the head of the table’s spot and the one to its left. Harry took the side spot, so Y/N was on the end. After a bite of his food, Harry moaned loudly in contentment. This caused an amused look on Y/N’s face, there had been nothing special in his house so she had just made what was possible. This meant that Harry’s satisfaction was a little over the top.

“You’re acting like you haven’t eaten in a week. What did you do last night that got you in such a twist?” Y/N asked as she took a sip of her own glass of water. Harry nibbled at his lower lip after swallowing, trying to understand why he was particularly tired today.

“I guess I forgot to eat properly yesterday and then I went out running. And I stayed up late on the phone with,” he paused, eyes flashing to Y/N and then away again, “someone for SNL.”

Y/N hummed at his words before going back to her own eating. She didn’t understand why he hesitated about telling her he’d been on the phone last night, it especially irked her that he wouldn’t even say with whom. Professionally, it wasn’t really her business, but Harry was never secretive with her. Plus, it seemed to be work related so why was he being so flighty about it.

Moving forward, Harry peppier from eating and simply moving around, the pair set to work. They decided on trying on everything else first and then saving the Watermelon Sugar suit to the end. The other three main pieces for the night fit perfectly, Y/N had to only do minor reworks of certain areas.

“H, I need you to hold still…” Y/N interrupted Harry’s ramblings as she was crouched beside him.

She had to take up the hem on the pant legs so right now she was trying to pin them in the place she and Harry had agreed upon, without messing with the pleats.

“Sorry,” He mumbled, straightening out his back to stand taller.

He stayed quiet for a bit until Y/N popped back up, she looked at her notebook for reference on what she still had to tailor.

“Okay, next, the pants crotch is looking pretty fitted, so I assume you want it taken down a bit,” Y/N said as she got back into her crouching position. “Look in the mirror and tell me where you think letting it out looks best, I don’t have the best vantage point when I’m up this close…” she trailed off, placing her measuring tape directly on top of Harry’s crotch and running it down his leg a ways.

Once done with her first attempt at where she thought was best to let the pants out, she turned her eyes to the mirror that showed Harry in his suit with Y/N on her knees before him. Harry cleared his throat as he looked in the mirror, seeing Y/N with her eyes wide in anticipation in the position she was in made him want to run and hide. Her hands were extremely close to his dick, but it was literally her job, he knew he had to shake the thoughts that were running through his mind.

“Maybe just a bit further up actually, as much as I like the high waist with dropped crotch, I want this suit to have that specifically tailored look,” his hands motioned for Y/N to bring the drop up a ways.

Her hands then brought the measuring tape up, once again grazing over his area. Again, Y/N looked at Harry through the mirror for approval, and this time he gave it and she placed a single pin in the place where the pants would be let out to.

Standing up, Y/N hoped Harry didn’t notice the blush gracing her face. She was a stylist and used to being around naked bodies as well as touching around a man’s crotch when working. But Harry in this suit must have been magic, because she had felt extremely vulnerable on her knees in front of him in it. She had felt flushed the minute he hadn’t liked what she had done initially and she hated that she felt that way for some reason. Beginning to work on the sleeves of the suit set her at ease, Y/N was thankful to no longer be kneeling or in such close proximity to what was under Harry’s pants.

“Anything on your mind of late?” Harry broke the silence.

Y/N hummed with a pin stuck between her lips, folding up the suit jacket’s right sleeve. Plucking it from her mouth after a few silent moments, she said, “Not really, haven’t had time to do much else lately. Always thinking about you,” Y/N flushed as she realized what she had just said. “I mean, thinking about you like about your clothes and when they’re going to arrive and what I need to do about them, not you personally, sorry that came out wrong,” her blush intensified as she rapidly fumbled through her last sentence.

“Ow!”

“Oh my god!”

While Y/N had gotten flustered with her words, she managed to stick the pin she was using straight into Harry’s flesh. She immediately removed the pin from where it had stuck him.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry, H, we’ve got to get this off. I need to make sure you’re not bleeding onto the suit.”

Y/N rushed around to Harry's backside and began slipping off his suit jacket as Harry chuckled and began to unbutton the shirt as carefully as possible.

“‘S alright, Y/N, if there’s any blood on the shirt it’ll blend in, blood is practically the same color.” She glared at him through the mirror and Harry continued to laugh, “That is not funny, H, I shouldn’t have stuck you in the first place.”

“No, no,” Harry hushed Y/N as she began to slip off his shirt from one side to the other, taking off the sleeve on the side she hadn’t poked, “you’ve got so much on your plate with all the planning for the upcoming events. Then you worked yourself up over a little slip.” As Y/N carefully unbuttoned the cuff of the sleeve to try and slip off the shirt with the least amount of blood on it as possible, Harry finished with, “I wouldn’t mind if you were just thinking about me, though, an’ not the clothes.”

This time, Y/N was very in control, not willing to let herself slip up a second time today. She didn’t know how to respond to what Harry had just admitted. It wasn’t like this hasn't happened before. Both of them were guilty of making little comments that made it sound like they were interested in each other in a way that was a little different than professional or friendly. But every time the other person always had the responsibility to shut the idea down or completely blow past what their counter had just said.

“Harry…” She began, it was soft and pleading, like she was saying she couldn’t entertain that idea. Examining his forearm, after pulling the shirt completely away and resting it on a nearby chair, she saw a little spot of blood protruding from the pin prick she had caused. “Where do you keep your bandages?” Y/N decided that it was best to brush past Harry’s words this time and went off to find his first aid kit. Harry stood there, shirtless, staring at the blood on his arm. It really wasn’t a lot and it wouldn’t have done anything to the suit, but Y/N was always so careful and never wanted to ruin any of Harry’s clothes.

On her return, Y/N came upon a shirtless Harry perched on the edge of the table, with one arm crossed and his other - that was bleeding - being held slightly away from his body, as if Harry was afraid to touch it. His posture was slumped so Y/N could see his spine curving beneath his tanned honey-soft skin and his shoulder blades slightly flexed. While most of Harry’s body was covered in tattoos, she noticed how the closest tattoo to his back was the small line drawing of a guitar on the back of his left shoulder. Other than that his smooth back was bare. Y/N found it interesting that Harry had never chosen to ink his back. She jogged lightly back into the room and Harry’s head turned to watch her approach. His bottom lip was caught between his teeth as he regarded her. She noticed he was being particularly quiet, but she had no idea why. Maybe he was still tired.

Y/N set to work on finding the correct tissue, neosporin, and bandage for Harry’s small wound. As she worked on fixing up her mistake, Harry’s eyes followed her movements. Green eyes flickering between her hands on his arm and her own eyes focusing on her task.

“After this, I actually can just head home and finish the rest of the work,” Y/N said as she unpackaged the bandage, “I already know where I need to take in the suit sleeves and the shirt’s sleeves were looking fine. So, I can get out of your hair and you can get to sleep early tonight.” She placed the nude toned bandage over Harry’s arm, she was a little sad to find he didn’t own fun bandages. That was something that she expected from Harry, but she resigned that maybe she didn’t know everything about Harry.

Before Harry could speak, Y/N continued, “Don’t rehearsals for the show start tomorrow? When are you flying to New York?” She ran her hand over the bandage, smoothing it in place. Her hand lingered there as her eyes looked up and met Harry’s. Harry twitched his arm away from Y/N’s touch and scratched his nose slightly.

“Yeah, I’m flying out tomorrow morning. When are you set to fly out?”

“Friday. I’ll get in before the final dress rehearsal and then I’ll be there for the show.” Y/N stepped back and began to rehang the suit jacket and shirt that they had discarded in her haste to not get blood on them.

Then Y/N stood there staring at Harry. He looked at her slightly confused by her doing nothing when she said she was leaving. “Pants, H.” She said finally when she realized he had forgotten he was still wearing the suit pants. “Oh! Sorry,” Harry exclaimed as he began to unbutton and remove the pants he was wearing. He handed her the pants and she exchanged them with his live-aid t shirt. He took it graciously before slipping it on and disguising his toned body beneath it. Then he took his pants from earlier and fully redressed himself.

“Damn!” Y/N said and Harry’s head flipped to watch her as she began to put all of the clothing back in their garment bags and take down the rack.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just pinched myself with the rack, I’m all left feet today.”

“Here,” Harry chuckled as he walked over to help Y/N, “let me help you with all this. Just in the boot of your car, yeah?” Y/N nodded and smiled in appreciation for Harry. He grabbed her keys laying on the table and then took the rack and a garment bag. Even if things sometimes got tense between them, for whatever reason, he was always quick to move past it and be thoughtful and kind in the best ways for Y/N. After shaking her hand out, she grabbed the last garment bags and followed Harry out to her car. Harry shut the back of her car softly and turned to face Y/N, she stood beside her car door, ever so slightly leaning against it. He walked to her side and smiled.

“I’ll see you in a week,” he said before wrapping his arms around Y/N’s much smaller frame. His body was radiating heat and it felt good against Y/N in the crisp night air of London. She pressed into his hold and wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed him hard. “Less than...Can’t wait to see you make an absolute fool of yourself out there.” Harry protested her tease with a small, “Hey!” but mostly focused on his hands on her back and the way her hair felt especially soft under his chin. Finally, Y/N pulled away, “Kidding! You’ll be amazing and you’ll look killer while doing it.” She winked before opening her car door and driving off. Harry was left with the lingering scent of her perfume and shampoo mingling in his nose.

-

It was the Saturday night, November 16th, 2019.

Harry and Y/N were in his dressing room before the show started. His outfits for the night were lined up, except for his opener one that Y/N had just dressed him in. His first change would be for Light’s Up, then a couple skit outfits that had to be moved elsewhere for quick changes, then the Watermelon Sugar suit, and then finally his end of the show casual look. The opener looked incredible, it’s fit was impeccable and Y/N knew people were going to love it.

She stepped back from Harry to give his whole body a once over, the SNL hairstylist had just blown out his hair and given him a sort of middle part. It definitely looked good and paired with the suit - Y/N could already tell it was going to be a hit by all accounts. Harry grinned back at her, doing a little dance to show just how much he was loving his clothes and how excited he was.

Grabbing the lint roller, Y/N gave the lapels of his suit jacket a once over and then moved it slightly out of the way to roll the big collar of Harry’s shirt and the bits of the body of the shirt that were showing underneath the jacket. Basically, Y/N was lint rolling over Harry’s clothed abs. Apparently, that was a ticklish area for Harry because he began to squirm and giggle under the tool’s touch.

“Seriously, H?”

She smiled as she said it, so excited for Harry that she couldn’t be mad at his relestness.

“Can’t help it. ‘M so giddy. Plus, I’m a wee bit ticklish.”

Y/N gave him a single laugh before removing the lint roller and smoothing over the shirt against his stomach and then over the lapels when she put the jacket back in place. She adjusted the Gucci reader’s she was wearing today, that were more for decoration than anything, but she liked to pretend they made her see better.

“You look smashing, Mr. Styles. Absolutely gorgeous, if I do say so myself.”

“Are you talking to me or the suit?” Harry asked as he flipped to look in the full length mirror in the dressing room.

“Can’t it be both?”

“Sure,” Harry said, he noticed the clock and realized it was his time to get in places. He leaned down and placed a small kiss on Y/N’s cheek, “It’s my time, thank you, Y/N.” She blushed at his words and actions. As he walked out the door, she called after him, “Break a leg, H!” He sent a final air kiss in her direction before completely disappearing.

She looked at the clothes hanging on the rack in the room and palmed over the fabric. Checking the lapels and brushing the lint roller over the, she finally stepped back and was happy with how they looked. When the show was just about to start, she flitted to the part of backstage where she could watch Harry perform. She giggled along to his monologue and grinned whole-heartedly when the crowd would roar with approval. Y/N had heard all of the jokes already because of the dress rehearsal yesterday, but it didn’t matter. Harry was killing it. She also took time to appreciate how good Harry looked in his suit on stage. In front of the lights and all the people, his suit shined brightly with the pops of blue and yellow and the oversized grey-iege jacket. His soft chestnut hair billowed perfectly to frame his forehead as he sipped from the faux martini. Y/N bit her lip to stifle her laugh. The fact that Harry, her boss and friend, was up on the Saturday Night Live stage with pink and blue nails sipping from a faux martini, it was perfect.

When Harry came back for his first performance change Y/N was right there waiting for him.

“Hi, that was really good,” she smiled up at him as he began to take off his coat.

He smiled brightly back at her as he exhaled a hefty breath, “You think so?”

“Yes! C’mon, everyone loved it. You delivered it all perfectly…” she took over undoing the buttons on the shirt because Harry was moving too slowly. “I’m in a man band now…” Y/N mumbled under her breath before chuckling.

“Did you just imitate my accent?” Harry said, now pulling off his sleeves.

Y/N moved around his back to take the shirt to hang and grab his Lights Up outfit. They worked like a well-oiled machine together, constantly taking over roles to get things done more efficiently, but never stepping on each other’s toes.

“Nope,” she winked before handing him the black sequin jumpsuit and exchanging it for his yellow pants. After rehanging the pants and bringing over Harry’s different set of boots, Y/N said, “Y’know, I’d have to say that your hair is giving your suit a run for its money.” She placed the shoes on the table beside Harry and began to fix into the place different parts of the jumpsuit, moving to zip up the back and then coming to the front to smooth it.

“What do you mean?” Harry looked in the mirror and delicately touched the edges of his hair, considering Y/N’s statement.

“No one ever really sees it how it is, nicely blown out but not too much product so it falls to frame your face. What’d you tell the hair person you wanted?” Y/N stepped back to allow Harry to change his boots from one Gucci pair to another, like he did with most of his wardrobe.

“Just told them to make me look mature. You think it looks good?” He looked up at Y/N when he asked the question.

“Think it looks sexy, that’s what I’m saying, no one’s gonna be able to focus on your clothes with how good your hair looks.”

“Ah,” he deftly runs his hands down his suit as he looks in the mirror.

Y/N just stares at Harry, checking him over one more time. She wasn’t lying about his hair, it was sexy and she wanted to run her hands through it to feel how soft it was. In a complete friend way of course.

“I like it…”

“It looks like you just rolled out of bed, but the bed was made of angel feathers.”

Harry laughed at Y/N’s description. He shifted his body to face her more and moved closer to her in the process.

“Alright, you should probably get back out there,” Y/N closes the gap between them and adjusts the chain of his jade and silver crosses and brushes over his broad shoulders.

They’re professional touches, but her movements hold an undercurrent of intimacy that neither of them realize. If anyone had been looking on, they would see how Y/N’s fingers delicately caressed Harry’s skin right before she cradled the pendants to move them in place. They would also see Harry instinctively lean forward into her touch and breathe slightly deeper to take in her scent. When she brushes over his shoulders, he straightens up at the touch and shows he’s ready to get back out there. It’s as if she prepared him to go.

Harry sings Lights Up and the crowd loves it. Sarah kills her drumming and Mitch eats up lead guitar. The backup singers bring out a different tone to the song. It is all around an amazing performance.

As Y/N clapped along with the crowd from backstage, Aidy Bryant approaches her.

“You’re Harry’s stylist, right?”

Y/N turns her head at the woman next to her, “Yeah?”

Aidy smiles, eyes slightly gleaming, “Well, you’re wonderful at your job.” As Y/N is about to thank her, Aidy continues, “And Harry knows that too, he talked about you all week. We all thought you were his girlfriend at first.”

Y/N laughed lightly and had to keep herself from letting her jaw drop at Aidy’s words. She even choked a bit on her own spit and had to cough slightly before even being able to think of a response, “Well, um, yeah...no, H, Harry is just my employer and...friend. No dating, we just get along well. Which is important since we spend a lot of time together - for work of course!”

Aidy smiled sweetly at Y/N, “Yeah, Harry explained that when Beck asked him how long you’d been together. At first he had said a couple months and then said ‘wait, Y/N is just my stylist, we’ve been working together for a couple months’ and then we all felt really dumb.”

“Don’t feel dumb,” Y/N reassured her, unsure why she was actually continuing this conversation, “He loves to talk about clothes and that’s where I fit in to his life, so I’m sure my name would come up a fair bit. Was that it?”

“Yeah I guess, but-” Aidy began to say more, but Y/N cut her off.

“Oh gosh, I’m sorry, but Harry’s finished and I’ve got to go help him change for his next song.”

Aidy was left in Y/N’s wake, chuckling to herself, fully reassured about the reason that they had all thought Harry had been dating Y/N. Because they already acted like a couple. And they were both helplessly in love with one another and neither of them knew.

The rest of the show went off without a hitch. Harry continued to wow the crowd and Y/N sent him off from his dressing room always looking fabulous. Just as he was about to walk back on stage for his final farewell, Y/N noticed a tiny string on his trousers zipper. Unable to stop Harry and unable to grab at the string without looking odd, she had to let him walk on stage with it. It wasn’t actually a big deal, but Y/N sighed in annoyance because she knew that string was going to bug her for the rest of the night.

“Treat People With Kindness!” Harry finishes off his farewell.

Applause begins to sound and the cast is out front hugging and chatting, while Y/N is watching from the side still fixated on the string on Harry’s pants, now simply dangling. Finally, they begin to clear the stage because it’s time for the after party. Y/N knew there was no stealing Harry away to fix the problem that was now fixated in her mind. Every cast and crew member was trying to talk to him, congratulating him, hugging him, anything to spend time with the incredible man. Y/N couldn’t blame them, but she also wanted to be able to go some place quiet and debrief with Harry about his outfits. She wanted to look up what people were saying about his clothes and discuss the critiques with Harry. She also wanted to start discussing what was coming next with Harry. But most of all, she just wanted to hang out with Harry.

What Y/N wanted wasn’t going to happen anytime soon, which she knew, but it still only grew her annoyance with that string. If only she could get it off of him, maybe then her mind would be able to relax a little.

She meandered backstage, resigned she wouldn’t be talking to Harry for a while. There she went to find the band’s dressing room, knowing she would find Mitch or Sarah who she’d be happy to talk to. They weren’t ones for the spotlight and no one ever really seemed to want to brownnose with them at events like this. Y/N had met them a few times.

The first was when Harry had asked Y/N to meet him in the studio in mid July, Mitch and Sarah had both been there helping Harry finish up something for the album. Y/N never asked what, she liked music quite a bit, but when it came to the technical part of it, it went completely over her head. Harry had introduced them both and they seemed lovely. After that, she had seen them around for an event or two of Harry’s. It wasn’t much, but it was more than any of the other people around right now.

Just as she was about to knock on the door it swung open, revealing Harry’s entire backing band. “Hey,” Y/N said sheepishly, “Harry’s being fawned over by the masses and I don’t actually know anyone else here. Is it alright if I hang out with you all at this after party? I doubt there’s going to be anyone really dying to meet the stylist.”

She smoothed her own clothes as she spoke. Y/N wanted to look professional tonight because sometimes when she was dressed in more fun or “young” clothes she got mistaken for someone who had snuck in. The only thing that got people to not question her authority to be where she was, was a card that read ‘staff’ that she would clip onto whatever she was wearing at places like this. Tonight, she chose a pair of purple plaid pants, a sleek lilac tank underneath a cream knit shawl, and cream Gucci mules.  Ever since Harry took an interest in Y/N’s pearl necklace, she had largely stopped wearing hers because she hoped never to be photographed matching with him. However, she had known the pearls would have completed the look, even putting them on in her hotel room, twisting a pearl in her hand as she looked in the mirror, and then taking the necklace off again and settling on a different silver necklace instead. The ‘staff’ card was clipped to her pants pocket tonight.

“Of course!” Sarah said as the band began to file out of the room, “You might want to take your tag off now, though, you’re done working for the night.”

Her laughter rang sweetly through Y/N’s ears and she smiled back before removing her identifying card. She hated the piece of plastic and was glad to take it off, it never went with her outfits, but she had gotten tired of taking out her business card every time someone asked what she was doing. Y/N was sure that during the tour she’d be fine without it, but as Harry’s show appearances were beginning to ramp up she knew it would be helpful to have.

“Thanks...you all were amazing out there tonight. Second time on the SNL stage right?”

The group of you began to walk in the direction of where the after party was being held. Mitch piped up, “Thanks. Yeah, I love their box stage setup, it’s pretty cool.” Y/N was happy that she had people who were easy to talk to so that she wouldn’t be alone tonight.

Arriving in the room of the party, they were all quick to grab the alcohol that was being provided at the pop up bar. Y/N wasn’t normally a fan of drinking at events like these, mainly because she was not usually invited to this part of the night and when she was she wanted to be alert. But she figured there wasn’t much else to do so she took a hearty sip of the champagne. It was a little sweet, her face scrunched.

“Too sweet?” Mitch questioned when he saw Y/N’s face.

“Just a little for my taste.”

“Harry’s not going to be drinking tonight then. So particular about his alcohol,” Mitch continued.

Y/N laughed, “Well I’m glad, then I don’t have to deal with him being a baby about his hangover tomorrow.”

Mitch quirked an eyebrow at Y/N’s statement. Sarah and the others in the band had dispersed to mingle with the SNL party goers, leaving Mitch and Y/N to their conversation.

Realizing what she said could be seen as slightly weird out of context, Y/N quickly started again, “because I’m supposed to go shopping with Harry tomorrow. He wanted to go to Gucci and a couple other stores here before flying to LA. I’m going back to London until the listening parties, so we need to figure out the finishing touches for those and..” Y/N trailed off trying to remember which looks weren’t completed yet for the next few shows, Mitch waited patiently, “a few of the suits for the Late Late Show. He’s not happy with one of them so we might switch it. But anyway, you know how he is with a hangover. Proper child.”

Mitch threw his head back in laughter at Y/N’s serious look that she gave him. “Yeah, he can be...a lot. I meant to tell you, Harry looked great tonight. All of the clothes were fantastic,” Mitch added.

He was kind and Y/N appreciated him sticking with her. The two of them had rested themselves against a wall near the bar, sipping their champagne and enjoying each other’s company.

“Thank you.”

Mitch opened his mouth to say something else, but Heidi Gardener, another SNL member interrupted.

“Y/N, right!?”

Y/N and Mitch both turn to her, equally taken aback by the sudden burst of energy from this person they didn’t really know. Y/N nodded.

“Oh my gosh! You have to tell me where you got the jacket Harry is wearing!”

Heidi even goes as far to point in Harry’s direction. Y/N knows what she’s talking about, but her eyes still wander to where she pointed. Harry stood in a clump of people, surrounded by Ben Winston, James Corden, and the Gerbers who had all come to watch. She sighed as she watched his eyes shine as he laughed with a smile on his face. She hoped that by now the string had fallen off his pants by now, if not she was going to kick herself later.

“Oh, it’s Bode,” Y/N’s eyes coming back to meet Heidi’s happy face, “but it’s custom made from a vintage blanket. There’s only two that exist.”

Y/N and Mitch watched as Heidi’s face dropped.

“And I’m pretty sure the designer owns the other one,” Y/N added, “Sorry.”

Heidi smiles and jokes, “Know any ways I could possibly get Harry to give me his?”

“He loves that coat. I have no idea what you could possibly do to convince him he didn’t need it anymore.”

“Sex, probably,” Mitch says under his breath.

Heidi doesn’t catch it as she walks back off and Y/N turns to swat him with her free hand.  

“What? He always gives away his clothes to girl’s he has crushes on.” Y/N rolls her eyes at Mitch’s words.

“Probably best if you don’t inform the masses about that,” a new voice says.

Unbeknownst to Mitch and Y/N, Harry had broken away from his entourage to steal a few minutes with his two friends, his best friends if he was being honest. They laugh together as he wraps his arms around their shoulders and pulls them both into his chest. Y/N feels the warmth radiating from Harry’s body as she snuggles into his side. Her hand wraps under his jacket and around his waist to squeeze right about his hip bone. His face is gleaming with a small sheen of sweat, but his smile is so big she barely notices his perspiration as he looks down at her.

“Heard you were talkin’ shit?”

Mitch quips, “Us? Never.”

Harry scoffs, “Come off it!”

When he releases Y/N and Mitch from his grasp, Mitch straightens up while Y/N’s eyes immediately go down to Harry’s crotch. She’s not paying attention to their conversation as she tries to make out in the dim light whether the string is gone or not. The men realize she’s not listening and they both follow her gaze.

Confused, Harry asks, “Y/N, any particular reason you’re staring at my dick?”

Her head shoots up, eyes wide and cheeks flushed from embarrassment.

“I wasn’t!”

Mitch laughs and decides he wants another glass of champagne right then, mumbling something about how that was his cue. Harry smiles, knowing she wasn’t doing what he had said, but still intrigued to know what was going on in her mind.

“You had a string right on your zipper and it’s been bugging me since you went out for your outro. This is the first time I’ve seen you on your own and I couldn't exactly go up to you in a random crowd and grab at your crotch. But now I can’t see in this light…” Y/N bit at her lower lip and furrowed her brow still trying to see if the string was there.

“Have you really been thinking about it this whole time?” Harry asked, slightly concerned.

“Yes...I know it doesn’t matter, but I just want your clothes to look perfect.”

Harry takes a deep breath as he makes a small smile at Y/N. Then he brushes over the front of his pants, hoping he removes the string if it's still attached to him. “There, I’m sure it’s gone now. I’m sorry you had to worry about that. Just know everyone I’ve talked to has been raving about the clothes.” He placed his ring-clad hand on Y/N’s upper arm and squeezed it.

“You did an amazing job,” Y/N said.

Harry pulls her into his chest one more time. This time without Mitch so both of Harry’s arms go around her shoulders and both of hers go around his slender waist. Again her hands disappear under his coat and thumb over his warm white t-shirt, her face resting on his chest right next to the word ‘Sex’. His arms tighten around her back as they rest there for a while. Y/N always has to make herself pull away, knowing that Harry will stay there for as long as he can - in anyone’s embrace - and remembering they’re in a public setting, she didn’t want anyone to assume things, even if she had already been made aware that people had.

“We’ll debrief more later tonight, yeah? The champagne is terrible so I won’t be drinking,” Harry said.

Y/N laughed under her breath as she smiled at his words. Mitch and her knew Harry too well. She nodded about getting together later, “Alright. Get back to your fan club.” Harry narrowed her eyes at her words, not sure if she was trying to sound sarcastic or not.

-

Hey, I’m back at the hotel. Just let me know when you want to debrief :) x

Y/N texted Harry the minute she got back to the hotel, she had no idea if he had left before her or was still at the after party. All she knew was that it was late and she was starting to get tired. Still, it was important for them to talk about their plans for tomorrow and she also really wanted to just be with him alone. Whenever they would debrief after big events Harry and Y/N would laugh at all the outrageous stuff they had seen go on throughout the night.

When she was still a freelance stylist she had helped Harry to plan his Camp outfit at the Met Gala. That night, they never even went to bed and had to debrief about the clothes the next afternoon over tea at the Palace. Both her and Harry were recovering from their exhaustion and nursing equally terrible hangovers. But there they were, sitting in the center of the dining area of the hotel, being served some of the nicest tea and sandwiches Y/N had ever had. It was amazing. Y/N had never felt that rich in her life before and Harry had told her the craziest stories about the most famous people in attendance. It was almost unbelievable what these people would reveal to Harry and Y/N was happy to listen to all of it, promising to never tell anyone else. That outing was probably the first time Harry realized he really liked Y/N and wanted to work more closely with her.

While tonight wasn’t quite as wild as the Met Gala had been, Y/N was still excited to hear any funny stories Harry might have in addition to their clothing talk. They really hadn’t had much time to chat since she had gotten to New York yesterday so it would be nice to just be alone together. Even if Y/N chalked their debriefs up to ‘shop talk’, she was always very excited for them.

As she reached her hotel room door, her phone buzzed with a message from Harry.

I’m still out, but should be heading back soon. Up to you if you want to wait up or we can just debrief in the morning while we shop. x H  

Y/N sighed at the message, she wanted to wait up and debrief before tomorrow, if not for alone time with Harry but professionally for being able to plan out their shopping tomorrow. Where Harry was carefree, Y/N was meticulous and planned out. She liked to have fun, but she knew when she had to get her work done, even when Harry was off in his own mind. Their work styles mostly coincided, Harry could be serious and focused, too, but often when he was surrounded by all his famous friends he had a hard time saying ‘no’ to whatever came up. So Y/N knew that Harry’s definition of ‘soon’ could range from actually soon to almost dawn. She really hoped he actually meant soon, so she shot him a text saying:

Just knock on my room and if I open it we can debrief lol x

Harry smiled down at his phone when Y/N’s text came through, slightly chuckling before double tapping and placing a heart reaction of her text. Then he was pulled into the limo that one of his friend’s had gotten them and was handed a flute of champagne.

Back at the hotel, Y/N threw her phone on the bed and decided to change and simply settle in for the night. If Harry made it back, he made it back and if he didn’t she’d wake up well rested.

Maybe thirty minutes into scrolling on her phone, Y/N heard a rough knock on her door. She was actually quite surprised that Harry had indeed been back soon. Rising from her snuggled place in the bed, she shifted around her night clothes and padded to her door. There stood, rather hung, a slightly disheveled Harry. His hair was whipped into disaster, something was smudged on his face, and she noticed a stain on his t-shirt that hadn’t been there the last time she’d been with him.

He slurred her name as he stumbled through the doorway. Y/N closed her eyes and sighed in exasperation. She was in awe that somehow Harry hadn’t gotten off his ass in the past hour and a half.

“What happened to not drinking tonight?”

She walked beside him and helped shove him into a sitting position on her bed. He flapped his arms, chaotically trying to get his plaid jacket off. Throwing her phone in the direction of her pillow, she moved to help Harry with his jacket. After quite a bit of strugglings, Y/N finally got the Bode jacket off of him successfully and threw it onto the nearby chair. Sighing, she settled beside him.

“So, Harry, care to explain?”

“Hi, Y/N…” He swayed slightly, attempting to face Y/N more. She threw out a hand to his shoulder, gripping him tightly to try and steady him.

“We went in this limousine, and they had champagne - good champagne - and I drank a bottle or so pretty quickly.”

“Or so? Oh Harry...I mean you’re free to make your own choices, but I don’t know if this was one of your best.”

“Wasn’t...wasn’t my idea. I was planning on just going back to the hotel. Then James convinced me to come out for a bit. Then the champagne was looking good so I went for it.”

“Like I said, you can make your own choices,” she patted his arm and went to the en suite bathroom to wet a washcloth to clean off his face.

“So, is it champagne on your shirt or am I going to have to go through hell to get the stain out?” She called.

Harry groaned and leaned back on the bed, fingering at the crisp white sheets. “Champagne,” he finally muttered as Y/N reappeared into the dim room, only the outside world and the light in the bathroom lighting this area.

“And on the face?”

She climbed onto the bed and kneeled beside Harry’s prone body, beginning to swipe at the smudge on his face. He tilted his head to face her, bringing the cheek with the dirt to lay facing perfectly up. His jawline showed perfectly and she felt the strength that laid beneath the skin she was washing.

His eyes flitted up to her face, trying to stop the spins he was currently experiencing. He hadn’t thought he was that drunk until he had been required to find his way up to their floor on his own.

“Lipstick?”

She sighed, running the washcloth over his cheek once more, and tried to push the image of some woman (or man who wore lipstick, she guessed) with her lips all over Harry’s face. She didn’t want to know who it was or why it was. It was too hard, especially after the day of people asking her about Harry and her relationship and insinuating things about him and his romantic life. She just liked to keep the words Harry and romance apart as much as possible, it made her life easier that way.

“It was only from-”

“It’s ok, Harry, I don’t need to know who you were…” She stopped herself, not even wanting to say ‘kissing’ or ‘snogging’ or even worse ‘shagging’. Adults were human beings and they could do a lot in an hour and a half. And again, she didn’t want to know.

“You keep doing that. Are you mad at me?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Calling me Harry, not ‘H’. Is it because you’re mad at me?”

“No,” she sighed, shifting to sit more casually, “No, I’m not mad at you. I just wasn’t expecting you to show up at my door like this. I try not to worry about you, but then when you show up like this, it kind of affirms I had reason to be concerned.”

She took a hand and smoothed over Harry’s tousled hair, he rolled his head back to face the ceiling. “Like I said, you’re an adult, capable of making his own decisions. And, I am just your stylist. I’m just glad you made it up here and knocked on my door. Probably would have given someone else a fright.”

He laughed, starting to sober up as the spinning in the room stopped. Her hands on his face and hair were soothing and sobering.

“Thank you for caring about me, love. And going beyond being just my stylist, you’re my friend Y/N.”

His eyes flickered shut and Y/N stared at his soothed features. His words were still slurred and she was sure the use of love was just his britishness slipping through his drunken state. The part about being more than a stylist, she tried to push it away, telling herself not to read more into it than her heart would like to. Even though he said she was a friend as well as a stylist and not anything more, it still sent so much joy through her body. He didn’t just see her as a work colleague and he had said it. But in his inebriated state, Y/N didn’t want to take everything he said as gospel.

She moved him up the bed with a little bit of his sleepy self’s help into a more comfortable position. It was pretty late now and she wasn’t going to kick him out. It would have been rude and unkind and that were two things Y/N rarely was. She went and grabbed the extra blanket from the cabinet and draped it over Harry’s large body for extra warmth since he refused to get under the covers. She also slipped off his boots and stained shirt per his request before getting into the other side of the bed and falling asleep.

-

She awoke to a shifting body beside her and she sat up confused as to who it could be. Quickly, Harry showing up drunk at her door came flooding back and she turned to look at the groaning Harry beside her. His arm was thrown over his face as he moaned, just waking up as well and experiencing the first bits of his hangover. This was going to be a long day.

“Hullo,” his voice was especially low, groggy and hoarse from the night before. He peaked over at her from behind the crook of his elbow. His eyelids barely open and his eyelashes weighing them down so much so that she could barely see his sleepy jade eyes.

“Good morning, H. Have a nice rest?” Y/N sat up and began to ready herself for the day, rummaging through her suitcase for an outfit and moving about the room.

Harry’s arms went to his sides as he worked to sit up, eyes following her figure as she moved around, seemingly not groggy very much unlike him. “Erm...I’m sorry for showing up pissed.”

“S’fine, H. Just glad you didn’t end up in a ditch or someone’s bed - someone’s that you might regret…” She barely regards him, throwing a single glance his way before shuffling to the bathroom to change. She knows they’ll be photographed today, it’s almost inevitable right now. Everyone knows Harry is in New York and people are buzzing to see him after his performance last night. She slips on the 70s inspired dress, the v-neck and long sleeves settling perfectly on her frame, it hugs her curves and lands around mid-thigh. Rolling on the bold mustard yellow tights and strapping up the brown leather mary jane heels, she looks herself over in the mirror. She then tries to tame her hair and do the rest of her routine, knowing she needed to get on with the day, shopping first and flying home second. Making sure Harry was okay was also on that list, but she couldn’t pretend like she wasn’t a little disappointed in him after last night.

When she returns, Harry is sitting with his legs hanging off the edge of the bed, head hanging as he’s hunched over himself. “C’mon, you gotta get going, kid. Lots to do today.” She’s pacing over to Harry’s deflated figure to pick him up and prompt him to get moving. When she arrives by his side his head lifts and his now more awake eyes stare up at her.

“I’m sorry for yesterday, really. I mean it.”  

“I told you already. It’s fine.”

“It’s not - or it wasn’t. You called me ‘Harry’ last night. I don’t think I’ve heard you call me that to my face since we started working together. I took your answer last night because I was swimming in it, but now, thinking about it. I know you were upset.”

She huffs, taking a seat beside Harry on the bed, choosing to not look at him, slightly confused why she had been so upset and why he was pushing it. “Ok, yeah I was annoyed, but I was also genuinely worried. I didn’t know you could physically get that drunk in that small amount of time. And then you show up at my door with somebody else’s…” Y/N falters, catching her slip up and deciding to fix her gaze on her shoes and their intricate design built into the leather.

“You’re upset that I had lipstick on me?” He’s trying to meet Y/N’s gaze, but her eyes are really interested in her shoes. His tone is confused, he’s trying to understand what’s going on in her mind.

She scoffs, risking a glance to Harry but then returns quickly back to her dress this time. “Please...it was just inconvenient for me, okay? Thought we were going to debrief and stayed up late for you. Then I had to take care of you after you hung out with your famous pals and I had barely even seen you all day. Felt a bit used.”

Harry shifted in the bed, turning to face her by tucking one leg beneath him. He places a hand on hers that was placed on the end of her dress. Her eyes finally meet with his and she feels her breath slightly catch in her throat. His eyes are piercing, his gaze intense, maybe even a tinge of anger. “Y/N, I would never have come to your room if I even had an inkling that this would be how you’d interpret it . Even though I was drunk, I wanted to see you, that’s why I came up here, because I wanted to be with my friend, one of my best friends, not because I just needed some pushover to care for me.”

She sighs, feeling icky still about the whole situation. She sometimes found herself in fights that she never intended, she wished she hadn’t said anything at all. But she also knew that wasn’t healthy either. Flipping her hand, she intertwines her fingers with Harry’s and smiles for the first time that morning. His expression softens at it. “Look, I’m sorry too, H. It honestly wasn’t that big of a deal, but I appreciate that you’re such a great guy and boss to want to truly apologize and make sure I’m comfortable and happy… Oh, and I promise I’ll never call you anything but H from here on out - unless you tell me otherwise.”

He cackles unabashedly at her words, before suddenly clutching at his temple with his free hand. “Fuckin’ hangover,” he mumbles. She smiles and stands up, beginning to throw his shirt and shoes from the end of the bed at him, “You need to get ready. Go pop some advil or whatever. My flights at 5 so we haven’t got all day, H.”

“There she is,” Harry grins, beginning to put back on the stained ‘Sex’ shirt.

As he hustles out of the room, shoes in hand, she calls to him one last request, “When you’re in fresh clothes make sure you bring me that stained shirt. Gonna have to spot clean it when I’m back in London!”

“Of course! And we’ll debrief as we shop, yeah?”

“Yes!”

The two of them were shouting to each other as the door continued to close on them. Chuckling to herself, she begins to pack up her room, knowing she had to check out before they left. Her spirits already lifted, she doesn’t even notice as she throws Harry’s forgotten Bode jacket into her suitcase with some other items that had been on her chair. She wouldn’t notice it until she was back in London unpacking from the trip.

Shutting the case, she springs back up from her crouched position and walks to look in the full length mirror again. Her fingers run the length of her dress, leafing over the slightly darker brown embroidered flowers that were woven into the tan fabric. She squints as she turns sideways and pops a heel up behind her. It looks good, but something is missing. Rummaging through her carry-on she pulls out her old butterfly bandana she used as a head scarf and begins to fix it into place on her head. Placing large sunglasses on the bridge of her nose, she feels like the look is complete and gives herself some poses in the mirror; a peace sign, an air kiss, a Marilyn Monroe. She laughs at herself.

A knock on the door shakes her from her childish fun. Straightening up, Y/N saunters over to the door, swinging it open with ease. “H?”

“You ready?” Harry stands in a fresh pair of Marni trousers paired with a striped orange and mauve Marni sweater. He, like Y/N, had this thing about wearing the brand you planned to shop at. He didn’t always stick to his rule, but he usually didn’t like to wear Gucci when he shopped at Gucci.

“Yeah, just need to check out and drop my baggage at the front to be held for later.” Y/N slips through the door and notes how his outfit compliments hers. She wouldn’t mention it, but it's something to think about since he had known what she was wearing. She wasn’t sure why she noticed things like that, if asked, her answer would probably be that it was the stylist in her, just her job.

-

Stepping out of a black town car on the side street next to Gucci to go in the side entrance would never get old for Y/N. She had never really enjoyed the idea of fame, but from a young age she had known she wanted to be able to afford the finer things in life. Going into the Gucci store now, especially with Harry, was like going to the candy store once you’re a grown up and can buy whatever you want rather than what your parents will allow you to.

Today, Harry and Y/N didn’t have as much time as they would usually like to spend in the store, but they were just happy to be doing what they loved. Y/N had been ecstatic to find out Harry found shopping to be an essential part of his life and that he liked to do his outfit shopping in person rather than online. Trying on clothes and picking out things you liked just was so much more fulfilling when you were in the physical store. Then make that all happen with Harry Styles as the buyer, then it was a real party. The stores liked to pull out their Champagne and clear the store to allow him privacy, specifically when it was for clothes for projects under wraps. In the beginning of her employment, it was only ever Harry who would do the trying on of clothes, but as the two of them got acquainted and comfortable with each other, she found herself trying things Harry would pick out for her. At first, she would veto some items saying they were too expensive for her, but eventually she learned that her new salary covered whatever it was. She had always enjoyed designer labels and choosing to be a stylist meant she had nice clothes, but only working for Harry had caused her closet to double in size and triple in value.

“So we are looking for some trousers today,” she tells the worker at the store, reminding them of what she had already called ahead about. The employee nods and proceeds to lead them into the room where they had laid out an assortment of pants for Harry to pick from.

“What do you think of these?” Harry walks out and strikes a pose, popping one of his hips to the side and his hands on his hips. The pants strain around his thighs, but fit practically perfectly everywhere else. His slim waist is perfectly encircled by the fabric and he’s decided the sweater he was wearing didn’t match them and he’d rather go shirtless. This choice technically should allow her to solely focus on the pants, but it actually makes her focus that much more diverted. She makes a spinning motion with her pointer finger as she purses her lips. He takes a quick spin and the boot cut slightly flares with his movement. The pants are a dark brown with a single plaid crossing in a lighter brown. They are only lightly flared, which she prefered to the extreme flare that some of Harry’s suits had. She narrows her eyes at the pants to keep her gaze from shifting to the taut muscles of Harry’s arms and torso or the dark ink that licked over his skin in the beautiful designs of his choice.

“They’re nice,” she pulls up a picture of the top part of the outfit he was planning on wearing, “Do you think they match with this though?” Harry walks over to her seated position and bends to look at her phone. His skin radiates heat and the smell of his cologne and she sniffles slightly with her sensitive nose. His eyes flicker to her face when he notices her little noise, but returns to looking at the phone when she doesn’t spare him a glance. She felt his gaze on her, but couldn’t bring herself to look from the phone. She knew his proximity would make it even harder for her to keep her eyes off his naked torso. The expensive smell of Harry mixed with the expensive smell of the store was a lot to handle.

“Yeah...no. You think they’re not right,” she widens her eyes at Harry’s words when he pulls away. He turns to the mirror in the open dressing room and fiddles with the waistline of the pants. “I agree,” he finishes before stalking back into the room and shutting the heavy velvet curtain that worked as the door to it.

He tries on five more pairs of trousers and finally settles on two pairs for the two different listening parties. A heavier, wool-tweed pair that was dark brown and then a lighter brown tweed pair. He was still in the lighter pants as he stared into the mirror. He beckoned to Y/N, and she quickly set down the flute of Champagne she had been sipping at lazily as he admired himself.

“Is it possible for you to take it in a bit more,” he says in a hushed tone to her, not wanting the workers to overhear. They were helpful but if they overheard they would wait for the store to tailor the trousers and he preferred for Y/N to do it. He rubs at the waistline again and she moves closer, her hands going to his sides. Her fingertips graze the naked skin above the trousers and Harry shivers at the coldness of the new touch. She ghosts softly over the waistline herself and smooths the fabric until she’s pinching a small amount on each side. She hums, pulling back from Harry and looking at the fit of them now, examining whether that makes them look better.

Then she nods and smiles up at Harry, “Ever the slender waist,” he grins right back as she admires him. She knew how much he liked praise and she was happy to give it to him, especially when he was so deserving. “I’d say size down, but then your thighs and bum might strain the fabric too much.” His face turns to a smirk as she blushes at her words. She releases the fabric and takes a hand to pat Harry’s smooth chest before walking back to her seat on the lovely couch.

“You sure you don’t want to try anything on, Y/N? Saw some killer boots when we walked in that screamed you.” Harry calls from behind the curtain, presumably getting redressed. Her laugh comes through the curtain slightly muffled, yet still a sweet melody in Harry’s ears.

“Definitely not now, we’re leaving any minute. Plus, I’ve got plenty of Gucci boots, don’t even show me them or I’ll be tempted.”

His laughter rings through the curtains, loud and unrestrained. She smiles to herself, unable to discourage the pleasure that weaves through her at the sound. His presence in all the different ways she experienced it was instantly comforting.

-

When she arrives back to her London flat, she practically flops on her couch once she’s inside the door. Her luggage forgotten at the door, as she shrugs off her coat. It was around 7 am because she had chosen to take the red eye for some reason. She groaned as she thought about the day ahead of her. Even though Harry was halfway across the globe, she still had plenty of work to do. She had to finalize the outfits for the listening parties now that they had the pants to complete the looks. Then she had to start thinking about Harry’s December appearances. She had sent ahead his Late Late outfits that he had needed in Los Angeles for the pre-filming, but she still had to deal with the outfits for the live part of the show.

Today, she was set to go pick up the other pieces needed for the listening parties as well as items for the Graham Norton Show and Jingle Ball. She was most excited for her travels because that meant looking at brand new clothes that were perfect and gorgeous. She also knew she needed to spot clean Harry’s shirt, which didn’t spark as much joy in her tired mind.

The idea of the shirt staining with alcohol was what brought her out of her snuggling with her comfy couch. Sure, it couldn’t get that bad, but still she was a worrier and it would pain her if the iconic shirt got ruined. She padded back over to her luggage, now without her jacket or shoes. Her major suitcase got flipped on its side and she began to unzip it. It came open easily seeing as it was stuffed with her clothes and various items. She had to rummage a minute for Harry’s shirt that seemed to have run away inside the bag. Finally, the large white shirt made itself known and she grasped it happily.

As she looked over the stain near the collar of the shirt, her eyes traveled to a piece of fabric peeking out of her suitcase. It was a familiar blue, cream and white. A specific fabric she would never misplace, would never not recognize. Harry’s plaid Bode jacket. It was iconic and she loved it, but why did she have it in her suitcase. She definitely didn’t mean to have it, it’s genuinely just one of Harry’s jackets so it wouldn’t make sense for her to bring it back with the show's wardrobe. She tries to think back to yesterday, when she was still in New York. Thinking about why she would have it, she places the memories of Harry coming to her room, taking off his coat, and accidentally leaving it in her room all fit together. She must have just absentmindedly placed it in her suitcase without even realizing. She’s sure Harry wouldn’t mind, she’d shoot him a text, though, to tell him she had it. So he wouldn’t worry about whether he’d lost it or not.

When she gets ready for the day, she finds herself being drawn to blue and cream. Her outfit is understated and she just knows the jacket would finish the look. She loved that jacket and now that she had it, would it be a big deal if she wore it out. She figured it was fine. After she grabbed her purse, keys, and other essentials, she slipped on the coat. Harry was very broad shouldered and it hung oversized on her. She loved the look and snapped a selfie in the mirror before she headed out. While it felt a little narcissistic to constantly take photos of herself, she felt like as a stylist it was important to document her looks just as much as she documented her clients.

What she didn’t think about is just how much the rest of the world liked to document her client and those who were seen with her client. She didn’t think about how she had just been seen with Harry yesterday. That thought didn’t even cross her mind as she walked around the streets of London picking up her work. As she saw some photographers out and about (whom she assumed were for famous celebrities, not her). How it might seem with her wearing the Bode jacket Harry had worn on SNL two nights ago. The Bode jacket that there were only two of.

None of it crossed her mind. Not until it was the end of the day and she had a whole slew of texts from Harry’s manager. A few from Harry, and others but the other fifteen were solely from Jeff. She was a bad texter so as she walked into her flat and finally looked at her phone after putting down all of her garment bags her eyes went wide.

Please tell me you’re not out in London right now!

What are you wearing??

That cannot be Harry’s jacket Y/N

Seriously?

Please call me.

CALL ME. NOW.

      - All from Jeff.

She grimaced. The others from her friends including Harry would have to be ignored right now. Even if Harry was her boss, Jeff was who she had to deal with when it came to public appearances and it didn’t seem like she could get around this one. Normally, she never had to deal with him, but it seems today wasn’t normal.

- 

part 2

[soyouthinkucanwrite]

The money thing (part 1/2) - Daniel Ricciardo

It's always the little things, isn't it? The smallest stupidest things make almost no difference and then make all the difference in the world. They make everything special, but they also have the power to tear everything appart.

You and Daniel fight about money for the thousand time and he's had enough of it.

Warnings: super angst, but with a happy ending :)

Guys, this turned out WAY BIGGER than I expected, so I'm just gonna do a part 2, okay? Okay, thanks for understanding!

Song that inspired me: A list by HVOB

You and Daniel had been dating for a couple months now, having met through a common friend and hitting off almost instantly. You lived in Amsterdam and he, well he lived all over the world really, but his "time off" (meaning not racing) was spent between Monaco and London (for work), and Amsterdam now too, of course.

The changes were small and subtle at the beginning, like your weekends being spent traveling to meet him wherever in the world he was and consequently spending almost all your savings on plane tickets. You never complained to him (you planned on spending the money traveling anyway, so you didn't see the point), but didn't accept when he offered to buy your tickets, either. There's been some awkwardness around the subject but it usually died on its own.

*beginning of flashback*

"You’d have gotten here in time if you'd gotten the early flight like I told you" you remembered him saying that time you got in the paddock after the qualifying session had begun and couldn’t kiss him good luck.

"Baby, I told you. It was crazy expensive! Absurd even!"

"(y/n) for god's sake! What are we saving money for? I told you, you have my credit card number, I've offered to get you one, this is ridiculous, I can't believe I literally earn millions and my girlfriend wasn't there with me because the ticket was too expensive! I'll fucking fly you private if I have to!" he was almost yelling in his driver's room. You could only stare from the corner.

He took a deep breath running his hands through his hair. "Sorry. It's just... it was crap out there. I needed you" you grimaced at his words.

"Sorry. I really am..." you tried to approach him. "I'm here now?" you touched his arm. "It can't have been that bad, you're still on the top 10 and we both know what you can do from the 8th car..." you smiled at him.

*end of flashback*

He started to spend much more of his time off with you at your place, so you decided to get a place by yourself (having a roommate was great for company and splitting the rent, but having a roommate there while you guys just wanted some much-needed privacy was not working). Then there were more traveling to meet him, furniture for the new place, clothing for all the events (GPs or not), uber rides here and there... all of that without mentioning that you weren't being able to get the freelance jobs you used to get to make some extra money, so yeah, to say things were tight was an understatement. You tried to do all your shopping alone, so he wouldn't offer and you wouldn't refuse or be awkward about it, but Daniel seem to be glued to you whenever you were in the same city (not that you’re complaining).

He started to spend much more of his time off with you at your place, so you decided to get a place by yourself (having a roommate was great for company and splitting the rent, but having a roommate there while you guys just wanted some much-needed privacy was not working). Then there were more traveling to meet him, furniture for the new place, clothing for all the events (GPs or not), uber rides here and there... all of that without mentioning that you weren't being able to get the freelance jobs you used to get to make some extra money, so yeah, to say things were tight was an understatement. You tried to do all your shopping alone, so he wouldn't offer and you wouldn't refuse or be awkward about it, but Daniel seem to be glued to you whenever you were in the same city (not that you’re complaining).

The thing is, you always had trouble dealing with money. Sure, you liked to pay for your own stuff so as to not owe anything to anyone (especially boys), but it was so much deeper than that. Ever since a kid, you hated asking for money from your parents, and sometimes even the thought of buying stuff that was a bit more expensive made you sick. You couldn't explain why, you just felt guilty having so much and knowing that most people have never even seen that amount. It's not that you didn't want to spend it and save for the sake of it, you just didn't handle the idea of money very well. Needless to say, dating a millionnaire was bound to cause trouble in the relationship for you.

You were currently at his place in Monaco. It was the summer break and you had decided to spend some days just chilling at home, just the two of you - which you were glad since going out means hair, makeup, clothes, accessories, shoes... and, let's be honest, the kind of places he usually took you is not the kind of places you just throw something together last minute (the Instagram models and other driver's girlfriends looking you up and down were enough to make you think about spending money you did not have to hire a stylist or something like that). The whole situation was really stressing you out and you knew you would have to be honest with him eventually, instead of only dodging the subject and refusing most of his offers to pay. You tried to. You kind of tried. You suggested staying at home, in bed, most of the time, and he gladly agreed, but that strategy wasn't gonna work forever. You had to be honest with him. But at the same time, you knew what he was going to say and do, and the thought of him spending money on you, even if just by handling the restaurant bill, wasn't something you were much more comfortable with. Besides, it was only a matter of time before the "gold-digger" term starts to fly around in the small world that was the F1's.

You were laying on his couch, the Olympics playing on the TV but you were too busy overthinking the money thing to pay attention. Daniel was laying with his head on your lap, absently caressing your thigh and watching the TV. His phone went off and he moved to pick it up.

"Hello?" you watched as he answered the phone. "Hey mate, how's it going? Uh nothing, we're just chilling at home. Getting some rest... Yeah, I'm getting rested, you dirty-minded son of a bitch" you rolled your eyes while he laughed out loud on the line with someone. "Yeah, I know... the 19th is it? No, it's fine. Yeah, yeah. I'll be there. Alright, mate. Thanks for calling. Have a good one! Bye!" he hanged up and leaned in to peck you on the lips.

"Good news?" you asked him.

"Not really. Just wanted to kiss you" he shrugged, smiling. You smiled back and hugged him, pulling him in for another kiss. He was always so caring with you, always finding an excuse to kiss or touch you. You knew some people didn't like it, but you loved it. Physical touch was definitely one of your love languages.

"What's happening on the 19th then?" you asked him once you guys set apart from the kiss.

"Gotta be in London. Gonna run some testings and other boring race stuff..."

"Hum..." you hummed in understanding.

"You know what would make it less boring though?" he asked and you just looked at him, you already knew what he was going to ask you and it wasn't that you didn't want to spend every minute of the day with him, but you simply couldn't afford any more traveling, especially not in such short notice. "If you came with me. Huh? What do you say? A week in the Queen's land? Then we can fly together to Spa and after the race, I can go with you to Amsterdam. The next one it's the Dutch GP anyway, I'll just get there sooner" he laughed. It was crushing you, the man of your dreams was literally beaming at making plans with you, talking about spending the next few weeks glued together and you couldn't say yes.

"Dan, I have to work" you smiled sadly.

"Can't you work from distance? Or, I don't know, I mean... I know it's tiring, but you could come to London and fly home a bit early, then just meet me in Belgium?" great, his solution includes even more flying. And the thing is, you really didn't mind the flying. You always slept during the whole thing anyway, so you never got tired and the jetlag was minimal. You could work from distance, sure. Your boss wouldn't mind, as long as you got there eventually to check in on everything. But the whole logistics were just too expensive. There was no way you could afford it.

"I... sorry, I don't think I can" you said sadly and watched as his face dropped.

"That's fine, baby. I get it. I'm asking too much, all this traveling... don't worry about it" he tried to mask his emotions but you knew better. He knew you could in fact work from distance, so he was probably thinking the reason you couldn't do it was because you didn't want to.

He got up from the couch and walked into the kitchen. Meanwhile, you couldn't help but bury your face in your palms. This was so frustrating!

"You wanna go for a run or something? Maybe get something to eat?" he called from the kitchen, already moving on from the subject. You knew this whole thing was only gonna keep build up till he got tired of your excuses or you blowing up, probably the former, but you just keep going.

"Yeah, sure" you answered, getting up from the couch.

You and Daniel were both very active so going for a run, hiking, riding bikes, or whatever in the middle of the day was really routine for you. The Monaco summer weather was as beautiful as always and the sun was shining bright. You enjoyed the rest of your afternoon racing each other, kissing in the harbor, and just taking in the views, spending quality time together. Money wasn't even a thing in your bubble for a while.

"I'm getting hungry" he said on the way back home.

"Me too, and I'm super hot. I could go for a juice or something right now" you were all sweaty from the running, but you didn't care, he was too.

"You're always hot baby, I don't think juice gonna help with that" he grinned at you and you just rolled your eyes at him.

You passed by one of his favorite spots for food, nearby his place and he suggested getting some take-out, to which you agreed.

"Green juice, and a chicken wrap?" you tried to decide while the both of you waited in line.

"I'll never understand how you drink that"

"I've seen you drink that too, it's actually very refreshing"

"Because I'm forced to, I'm a high-performance athlete baby. But I'm on a break, so I'll have a coke, thank you very much" you laughed at him. He was holding your hand and tried to kiss you, wrapping his arm around you, you didn't dodge his kiss, you would never, but still laughed at the fact he wanted to kiss the sweaty mess you were right now.

"I'm gross, only you" you laughed.

"That's my baby, with no makeup she a ten" he rapped shrugging and grinning.

"Alright Lil Wayne, I know that one, don't even finish the verse" you laughed at him, making him laugh out loud, getting everyone's in the restaurant's attention.

"It's true, though"

"Sure..." You just shook your head smiling. Then you heard someone call his name.

"Hey! Daniel!" you both turned around to see Charles and Charlotte sitting in a corner, him waving at you two. You had met Charles a couple of times before but never spoke too much to him. They seemed to be leaving anyway, so they walked towards you guys, instead of towards the door.

"Hey mate, how's it going?" Daniel greeted him with a handshake. "Hey, Charlotte! You know (y/n) yet?"

"Hi! I don't think so, hi! How are you?" she greeted you smiling.

"Hi! Nice to meet you. Hi, Charles!" you said.

"Hey, (y/n). You're keeping him in line during the break? Char won't let me cheat my diet either" he laughed.

"Oh, that ship has sailed long ago! Daniel will just roll into the paddock if it's up to him" you laughed back.

"Hey! I think I've earned the right to some extra calories, we've been working out extra hard lately" Daniel said waving his eyebrows suggestively, making Charlotte giggle, Charles rolls his eyes and you go even redder than you were from the actual workout, while he just laughed out loud.

"I don't even want to know" Charles said. "Always great running into you mate" he was getting ready to say goodbye.

"Are we seeing you guys tomorrow?" Charlotte asked you.

"Tomorrow?" you asked her.

"Stefano's birthday" she said like it was obvious. Stefano Domenicali was the President and CEO of Formula 1, but you didn't know that yet - still, her tone made it seems like it was someone Daniel knew, so you just looked at him. He just rubbed his neck, looking a little embarrassed. "Oh, wait. Please tell me I didn't just said something I shouldn't" she looked at Charles.

"No, no. He invited me. Us, actually" Daniel reassured her. "I don't think we're going though, forgot to mention to you" he said looking at you.

"Uh mate, I wouldn't skip that if I were you. He didn't even invite all the drivers I heard" Charles said. "Maybe just stop by to say hello?"

"Stop by... a yacht... at the sea?" Charlotte said grinning at him. Daniel looked at you.

"You feel like going? It should be fun" he asked you.

"Sounds fancy... I mean, I don't mind if you go" you said.

"Common... I’m not going alone" he nudged you.

"I don't even have anything to wear, Dan" you told him.

"Oh! We can go shopping together!" Charlotte said and you had almost forgotten they were still there.

"Perfect!" Daniel answered for you. You could only imagine the types of stores she shopped.

"Tomorrow morning, then? Daniel can text your address to Charles for me? I'll pick you up!" she was being really nice about it.

"I thought you wanted to go today?" Charles said.

"That's when I thought I would have to go shopping with you, so I could use the extra time since you're the worst shopping partner ever!" she laughed at him.

"Burn!" Daniel laughed.

"His fashion taste is not the most reliable, let's face it" she laughed and kissed his cheek. "It's a date then (y/n)?" she looked expectantly at you. You didn't want to let her down, it was so hard to make friends with the girlfriends of other drivers, they were usually so... not nice. You could always just help her and find something to wear in your own stuff later.

"Yeah, sure! See you tomorrow, at 10?" you said simply.

"Perfect!" she beamed.

>>> end of part 1 <<<

[floraltypes]

Old Beginning Pt. 2

pairings - aaron hotchner x reader, jethro gibbs x reader

chapters - one 

summary - the news of a dinner party arrises, but there are some little challenges before the actually night

wc - 3k

an - sorry this took awhile, my summer is over and my writing schedule will be a little wonky now. i’m taking a break from answering requests, so I apologize if I haven’t answered yours, but i eventually will

Penelope and you both looked back at Aaron, taken back by his repeating of the word ‘boyfriend’. You didn’t plan on telling people so soon, considering he was your boss from your old line of work.

“I want to know everything about him, you have to invite him!” Penelope quickly went back into her loud chatting, attracting other faces at her comment. “I also may have mentioned to some of the team that you do have a boyfriend, it just slipped! You know I can’t keep secrets!”

“It’s okay, Pene,” You smiled softly. “I can’t invite him though, you know, since I’m not the one holding the dinner event.”

“You can invite your partner, everyone else can as well, considering it is a catch up,” Dave walked over, a cup of coffee in his own hand as he used the other to scratch at his stubble. “I’ll even invite the woman I’ve been seeing. Feel free to all bring a plus one, I have enough room and everyone deserves a taste of my Italian dishes, will change their lives.”

“Thank you, Rossi, but I simply can’t. It’s so soon, and he’s such a busy man,” You laughed, waving your hand. “It was a kind gesture though.”

“L/n, don’t tell us you’re embarrassed to show your new boyfriend to us?” Derek walked back over, poking your shoulder. “Penelope told all of us down here, just wanted to wait and see when you would tell us.”

“I’m not embarrassed, that’s absurd. He’s truly busy.”

“Invite him, I’ll make sure Will comes and hire a babysitter for Henry, so that we can truly have a adult night,” JJ chuckled. “Everyone is bringing a date, so it would be odd if you didn’t.”

“Actually, I don’t have a partner at the moment due to how invested I am in my studies and the factors of that many young woman my age only focus on the factor of conventional attractiveness rather then the complexity of brains and deep-”

“Don’t worry, Spencer, if you don’t have a date, then I’ll just bring two,” Emily joked. “You don’t need a date, I’m not bringing one either, but Y/n is for sure.”

“I’ll be like the tw-”

“You are dating someone, we aren’t, so you’ll bring that someone. Come on, L/n,” Emily continued on, grabbing your hand and pulling you away. “I’ll walk you out,” She turned back to wink at her coworkers, leading you to the elevator and soon the parking lot.

“Aaron,” Rossi looked towards his friend, a man who had his glare fixated on your exiting figure. “Will you bring Beth, the more the merrier.”

“Yeah, I suppose I will,” He answered, retrieving his cellphone from his pocket, pulling up her contact picture, thumb hovering over the call button. “Let’s finish up this work, so we call all get home.” He shoved it back in his pocket, commanding everyone else while moving back up the stairs to his office.

Meanwhile, you were outside of your car, looking at Emily still was right by your side.

“Bring your boyfriend,” She commented, watching as you fished for your keys and unlocked your car. “I want to meet him, I haven’t really talked to you in a long time.”

“We’re both so busy. Him as well.”

“Seriously, Y/n, I’m not gonna ease up on you. I’ve noticed the new tint in your eye, new considering the last time it was severely dulled. It’s amazing to see your real smile again, you closer to your old self despite the past losses. He really has helped you, so I want to meet the man who helped my dear friend so much.”

You contemplated her kind words, getting down to the point that everyone probably was happy to see you again, yourself physically and mentally.

“I’ll call him, see if he can come. Can’t promise anything, his work is very important to him, so if it needs him he’s there.”

Emily smiled widely, leaning over to kiss your cheek before you moved to open the front door and start your car.

“Great, I’m actually bringing someone. Poor Spencer might be the only one.”

“Aaron is as well?”

“Hotch, yeah,” She laughed. “Meet her at some track meet he had, Jack really likes her.”

“That’s good, I’ll see you soon then,” You smiled, shutting the door as Emily watched you back out, waving a small goodbye.

Leaving the facility, while at a stop light, you found your flip phone, finding the contact of Jethro and quickly dialing the number.

“Gibbs,” He answered.

“Hey, are you on a case?”

“No, are you driving?”

“Yes, safely. What are you doing? Building a boat,” You chuckled, imagining him in the basement with the tool and sweaty shirt.

“Yeah. Did you meet up with your old team today?”

“Mhm, all surprised to see me today. It was humorous in a sense. But, Rossi invited me and everyone to a dinner, telling us to bring a partner.”

“Who are you planning on bringing?”

“You.”

“So, we’re being more public with our relationship?”

“Just with the old team, my old team, they don’t have contact with anyone apart of NCIS, or at least not personal only professional.”

“I thought you were going to come and see me, instead of making me drive,” You could almost sense his smile on the other line, a mocking one.

Gibbs would obviously accept the offer, the man truly holding a strong affection for you, a soft spot personally for you, so he would agree to drive the hour or two.

But just because he would, it doesn’t mean he didn’t have to mess around a bit, act like he wouldn’t.

“I know, but then you can see my new apartment. And after this weekend, who knows when we’ll be able to see each other again. Both of our jobs involved sporadic cases that start and end at no specific time, hard to plan around. And, everyone is pressuring me to meet you.”

“I’m already popular, huh?”

“I suppose,” You huffed, rubbing your temple, exhaustion starting to take over you, wanting to get some rest, a calming bath to combat earlier feelings that seemed as if they were creeping up once again.

“I’ll come, don’t worry. Get home safe, call me when you have the address and date.”

“Okay, bye.” You hung up, tossing the phone onto the empty seat as you continued to drive, playing the music from the CD already inserted in your car.

Time leading up to the dinner seemed to fly by, especially considering that it wasn’t much time and you weren’t having to work. You decided to take the free time to get fully settled in, figure out your nerves, make a phone call to your therapist, and even read. Trying to get prepared for all the days that are to come.

Your hair was now being changed from its normal du to a new one, fancier in a sense. Applying a nice coat of makeup, new lip color, trying a new pallet and the old eyelash curler that hasn’t been used in a while, you finished ‘upgrading’ your face. A outfit was simple, considering you didn’t have many fancy ones, so with not much to choose, it was a quick decision.

Sliding that on and fixing the straps to be a bit tighter, messing with the bra to fit correctly, and pulling it down a bit, you grabbed your go to purse, shoving needed materials a into it as you moved to the kitchen.

Within the kitchen, there was a certain door within the wall of the pantry with a password. Quickly typing in the combination the door swung open, choosing between a small but handy knife, you put in the pocket of your bag.

You weren’t too worried about dangers at the dinner, but with years of catching/fighting murders, specific people after you, and even very powerful assassins, you carried certain weapons for safety.

Hearing the sturdy knock of someone’s knuckles on your front door, you rushed to shut the the secret door in the pantry, heading to your front door where someone was waiting.

A quick peak through the hole, your eyes widened in surprise and opened the door, allowing the man to walk in.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you, till uh, later tonight,” You mentioned, looking him up and down to see him more dressed up. “Are you not able to attend anymore?”

“No, I’m still going,” Hotch denied, sliding off his shoes and following you to the couch. “I just wanted to chat before than, a chance for just the two of us.”

“Is something wrong?” You walked over to your teapot, filling it with water, and placing it on your stove, heating up the water. “This is very unexpected.”

“Nothing is wrong. I just want to talk to you, see the apartment, hear what’s new with you.”

“Things,” You shrugged. “Obviously I’ve had a new job experience, similar in ways and also not. Grew closer with a new group of teammates, people, lost a few. Yeah, lost a few,” You repeated, remembering Jenny Shepard, even Kate, both amazing women, who did amazing things.

“That’s always hard, I guess my most recent loss was Haley,” Aaron hummed, soon the kettle making a high pitched noise, you rushing to take it off and grab some tea bags.

“She was also a amazing woman. Wonderful mother, cared so much for that little boy.”

“She really was.”

“Did you come to chat about her, it’s been a while since we had. Last time we really talked was five months after she passed, after the funeral.”

“It really has been that long?” Aaron questioned, taking the tea that you time handed him. “But it’s not the reason I came. I should have made more of a effort to keep in touch, after your transfer, after your loss.”

“You stayed with me for three months, allowing to lose some time with your son so you could change my dirty sheets and pick up all my snotty tissues,” You laughed, sitting down across from him with your own cup. “You had to get back to your family, make up for loss time.”

“You still helped me with my divorce during that time, and I still saw Jack,” He reminded you.

“I could’ve moved in with my father, but you allowed me not to do that.”

“Your father is a good man, but might not be the best to live with,” He laughed, a deep chuckle, something you didn’t see much. “You look nice.”

“Now you just notice,” You chuckle, taking another sip. “Thank you, you look nice as well. I was actually just going to call Jethro and tell him to meet me there, a bit of a drive and he isn’t happy about having to find a new team,” You spoke freely, feeling comfortable with the old friend, one you used to spill everything to years ago, him ranting to you too.

“Jethro? He has his own team? Sounds like a boss of some type.”

“Uh, technically. It’s complicated. I need to get going, to make it to the dinner on time and, finish, um, cleaning up my room before leaving.”

“I could take you there.”

“No thanks, I’ll see you there, bye.” You helped guide him to the door, a curt wave before he exited and shut it, locking it in a rush and moving back to the dining room table to clean the mugs.

You didn’t want to tell him all that, always insecure due to Gibbs being the prior boss of you and how people looked at that. Rumors were always spread about your and Aaron’s relationship, mostly about it being romantic.

Joining the team, you two easily hit it off due to your personalities. Always being filled with determination and stubbornness, refusing to give up till everything was done and right, even with files. Eventually you joined together, talked, spent most days with each other due to cases, and truly gained a very close friendship.

When rumors were getting around, glares were thrown your way, comments, left out by members who weren’t your immediate teams. People thought you were the cause of Haley and Aaron’s divorce, somehow word got around quickly, drama always does.

It was frustrating, already dealing with many different things at home, and even being in a relationship, it put so much unneeded stress and anxiety onto you.

So, getting into a relationship with Gibbs was a very reluctant thing on your part, he expressed his feelings first, but it was hard to accept them, despite the nerves he faced to do it.

Locking up the apartment, having all of your items with you, you made your way out the door and too your car, starting the drive to David’s house.

Upon arriving, you could hear light chatter in the home, lights on, and soothing music playing in the background. It sounded like everyone was having their fun, you couldn’t make out all the shadows of everyone indoors, just waiting outside for Jethro to arrive.

“Y/n?” You turned around at the sound of his voice, keys jingling in his hands as he walked up to you with a sly smile, shoving them in his pockets to place his arms around your waist. “What’s wrong, love?” Be snaked them around, a kiss to your somewhat clothed shoulder.

“Nothing, just a bit nervous to introduce you to everyone,” You smiled back at him, he squeezed a little tighter, catching your lips in a quick kiss. “Looking at your team, yet?”

“Nevermind that,” He grumbled, removing his hands to now interlace your left one with his right. “We should go in, right?”

“Maybe we could head back, to my place, say you are sick or something?” You looked back at him with a pleading look, to which he just chuckled at, starting to move to the front door, pressing the doorbell as you groaned a little.

“You’ll be fine,” He looked back at you as Rossi answered the door, cheerful smile on his lips, glass of scotch in hand as he moved out of the way to let you in.

“Ah! Y/n!” He cheered, leaning over to kiss your cheek and then pulled back. “Glad you made it! This must be…”

“Y/n! Oh where is the man?” Penelope rushed in, coming right by you with her own fruity drink, then leaning to whisper in your ear. “Is this him, oo!”

“Uh, Jethro that’s David,” You pointed to the man who first greeted you, him and Jethro shaking hands. “This is Penelope, the one kind of like Abby,” You smiled, as she gave you a little look, turning back and enveloping him in a little hug. She quickly turned back to you.

“He looks a little intimidating,” She whispered as you just laughed.

“For sure,” You nodded.

“Can I offer you a drink?” David turned to you two, gesturing to the one in his hand. “Something like Garcia for you Y/n, and what about you Jethro?”

“Just call me Gibbs, and yeah that’s fine,” He corrected Rossi, taking your hand as the two of you walked more inside of the magnificent house.

It truly was so well designed, very expensive, and the appetizers adorning the oak wood table looked very delicious. You wanted to go and grab a bite, before you were actually led to the living room where everyone was currently sitting.

“L/n, finally made it,” Derek laughed, beer in his hand as he pointed at you with a little chuckle. “You always know how to be a bit late.”

“Fashionably late, I believe that’s what it’s called,” JJ corrected them with her own wine glass in hand, Will sat right besides her on one of the couch as most of them in that room joined in laughter.

“What can I say?” You laughed, walking over, feeling less nervous with the factor of introducing your boyfriend, taking a seat on another couch in the large room, Jethro automatically sitting right besides you.

“So, introduce us,” Emily motioned over to Jethro, sly smile playing on her lips.

“This is Jethro, but he goes by Gibbs, and, uh, this is the team,” You started to name everyone off while pointing to them, leaving off a few names due to your members introducing their own partners to you.

Emily, Derek, and JJ had all brought partners. Spencer and Penelope decided to ‘go together’ as if they were partners, and Hotch hadn’t arrived yet. Rossi also had his girlfriend helping him cook in the kitchen, making drinks for you and Gibbs now.

“So, you work at NCIS, right?” Spencer questioned. “The Naval Criminal Investigative Service, very interesting considering the type of crimes you investigate. I would love to hear more about some of your cases and how you went about it,” Spencer smiled, a small notebook being pulled out of his pocket with a pen.

“Yeah,” Gibbs just nodded, looking at you a little questioning, which you just chuckled at.

“Why should we talk so much about work, it’s something we all do too much of,” You joked, everyone laughing, as Dave came back out, handing some drinks.

“Fine, fine, what do you do for fun Mr. Gibbs?” Derek asked, putting a arm over the couch and pulling his girl closer to his side, the woman just on her phone.

“I like to build boats, a type of hobbie I’ve been doing for years.”

“Building boats? Where?” Will wondered, intertwining his fingers with JJ.

“My basement, a private workspace.”

“How do you get it out then?” Penelope inquired, now back by Spencer and her face in her hand, leaning closer to show her interest in Gibbs statement.

“I’d be no fun if you knew that,” He shrugged, taking a drink with a small smile as Penelope gasped, Emily mouthing how ‘I like him’. It was sweet how everything was going well.

They all continued to converse with Gibbs, easily accepting him apart of the conversation, it was sweet and you were now on your second drink, practically all nerves gone.

“Sorry we’re late,” A voice mentioned in the hallway, dressed in a fine suit with a beautiful woman standing besides him. He shrugged off the last of his coat as he hung it up, taking her hand and walking into the hallway a little.

“This is such a nice place, Aaron. Oh! Your friend, wow, so grand,” The woman admired, now truly getting in your line of sight.

“Yeah,” He mumbled, eyes interlocking with yours before falling onto Gibbs. “I’m Aaron, call me Hotch.”

“I’m Gibbs,” Your boyfriend stood up, moving over to the other man with his hand stuck out. “Call me that.”

You had a feeling this evening wouldn’t be as smooth as you hoped.

——————

taglist - @wolviesbabes @hotch-meeeeeuppppp

(comment to be added, or a tag list for all my gibbs post)

[n7punk]

WDtFD Fic Notes

WDtFD is now complete! I will be taking the rest of the month of November off from posting for the most part as I will be working on an original novel for NaNoWriMo, but I intend to come back to fic writing after that. See my announcement here.

Epilogue life:

Obviously these two have more healing to do, but it’s going to take years. Luckily, they have eternity to process their trauma. Catra has less guilt than Adora, but she has been through a lot, so it takes her awhile to settle down and really feel safe and loved. Adora struggles with what she has been forced to do, but being an enforcer for the coven helps her to feel like she is “making up” for what she has done.

Catra, despite pending the first several weeks making fun of it, comes to really like life on the faem. It’s the polar opposite of how she grew up while still being secluded enough that she can be in her preferred form with worry. As she slowly begins to meet the farm residence (under good conditions) she warms up to them and eventually befriends them too. Regardless, she loves their cottage. She calls it quaint to disguise the fact that she finds it cute.

Adora does get a new parasol, something like this, and she and Catra enjoy going out together, even if they spend most of their time on the farm so Catra can be herself. Adora gets a “real job” one summer just for shits and giggles and leaves all her coworkers thinking farmers are so backwards and withdrawn that they don’t know the basics of society, but hey, at least they don’t suspect she is a vampire. She mostly sticks to farming and coven business.

Adora does learn to cook, and recognize ingredients, exclusively because she wants to cook for Catra and help her in the kitchen, though it is a challenge when she doesn’t know how anything tastes or how much of something is good, so she always needs to follow a recipe, even if it’s one Catra made up and wrote down on a card for her.

As she alludes to in the end of the fic, Adora picks up poetry, though it takes her awhile to hone her skills. She writes poems to and about Catra, and when she eventually gets good, her poems have this timeless quality due to the almost “throwback” lifestyle she lives with little modernity. At one point, she begins publishing them and becomes quiet famous under one of her aliases. She uses a few to publish poems over the years, almost always in compilations focused on her life or sapphic love.

Catra is right about her immortality, though she would die if she lost Melog as she needs them to sustain her, and she is more susceptible to dying of injury due to her reduced healing factor (though she is also less likely to die this way than a human). She works a variety of jobs, taking up a few trades before she settles into carpentry and wood carving. Of course she uses her claws in addition to her tools, and she ends up building a little workshop near their house with Adora where she creates her pieces. She has a member of the coven sell them for her (as she doesn’t visibly age, she tries not to put her face out there in connection with her work, and then her stuff can be connected to a timeless, faceless studio and she can maintain and client base past what should be one carpenter’s natural life. She hires a few werecreatures in the coven to sell her stuff, in a similar way to how the farm sells its produce).

The two of them have a lot of trauma to work through, but in the end they settle down into a peaceful life on the farm.

Songs for this AU: Lykke Li - Until We Bleed (title track). The Wolven Storm (Priscilla’s Song) – The Witcher 3 Unofficial Soundtrack. One Day The Only Butterflies Left Will Be In Your Chest As You March Towards Your Death - Bring Me The Horizon ft Amy Lee. The Tradition – Halsey. I Will Never Die – Delta Rae. Haunted – Taylor Swift. 1121 – Halsey. Smoke – PVRIS. The Lighthouse – Halsey. You And I – PVRIS. Bells In Santa Fe – Halsey. Eyelids – PVRIS. Bad Habits – Ed Sheeran. Same Soul – PVRIS. Taste Of You – Rezz, Dove Cameron.

Chapter 1

This is my oldest AU ever, with the biggest lag time between concept and writing. I came up with this AU in late October in 2020 as Halloween was approaching, and I intended to write it soon after as I was writing SLAS at the time, but obviously other AUs kept calling to me, and then in March or April of this year I was like “what if I just wait until next Halloween for it” and then I…. ended up doing that lol. It has been a full year since I came up with this idea, but I’m really happy to finally be writing it.

I feel like I have to acknowledge/recommend SleepySappho’s vampire fic from last year. I think I came up with this AU before I read that (though it had been published for 3 months, I only go to the tags occasionally, and I have uncompleted works filtered out so the only way I found that one must have been someone recommending it to me), so it wasn’t actually inspired by that, but it’s good, so I would be remiss to ignore it completely. I don’t know if there are any other Catradora vampire AU fics, but I haven’t seen/read them lol. Another Catradora vampire AU that I got into after I had this fic idea was the CaSPOP AU on Twitter and every time it updated I would start yearning to write WDtFD again.

A puma and a cougar are the same thing, which I feel like a lot of people don’t realize, but I didn’t want to use the word cougar as a descriptor because it just sounded like I was talking about something else.

I was careful for Catra to never use the phrase “her heart/her heartbeat”, though Adora uses it often in reference to Catra. Catra has a weird relationship with the heart in her chest and doesn’t usually casually refer to it as her own. This led to some purposefully awkward phrasing that I left as a trail of breadcrumbs for the later reveal.

Catra mentioning Melog being made out of mud is a reference to Melog (Melog = golem) in the original She-ra, which was quite different. I saw an interview with Noelle where they said they wanted to have something like Clawdeen for Catra in the reboot, but it would seem like they were copying/infringing on Steven Universe if they had a pink lion companion even though it’s from the original show. Thus they made Melog, because Catra really needed a therapy cat lol.

Chapter 2

Shadow Weaver actually got a job at a prenatal clinic so she could scope out potential werecreature of dhampir children. She knew she would find a werecreature first, so when she came across Catra’s parents she was prepared to snatch her (accessing her home address in the office records) with the assistance of her supernatural abilities. Dhampirs are extremely rare. She expected it to take much longer to find one, perhaps even a lifetime that would necessitate her snatching another werecreature, but after a few months, a woman came through the clinic with an unusual pregnancy from a one night stand (vampires aren’t completely sterile, but the chances they get someone pregnant having unprotected sex are lower than the chances of pregnancy on birth control for mortals, and thus the father didn’t think twice about it). Shadow Weaver actually (unethically and illegally) discouraged the woman from terminating her pregnancy despite the problems it was causing her because she saw magical potential within her. When Adora was born, she was proven right and once again stole her in the night, leaving the area completely shortly after to raise the girls in reclusion.

Adora’s place has a built-in microwave, otherwise she wouldn’t have bothered with getting one.

When Angella and Micah were first courting, Angella had him over for dinner and had no idea what she was doing, so despite ordering the food, she still burned it trying to reheat it (she had never worked a microwave before and literally just had one for show). Her terrible cooking became a running theme/joke in their relationship. She would try to cook for Micah when he was sick and it would just make him sicker but he would still be touched by the gesture.

All supernatural creatures are resistant to someone else’s magic being used on them, but sires have compulsion abilities over their fledglings because those fledglings have their venom/magic inside them. Vampires have stronger compulsion abilities over mortals they have recently fed on for similar reasons, though the venom that is used to subdue prey during feeding is different from the venom used to shut down someone’s body and turn them.

Chapter 3

Comments: oh I’m worried about why there’s no chapter titles Meanwhile me planning this: I hate coming up with chapter titles and it’s a short fic so it doesn’t really need them, right???

Chapter 4

Writing Catra in human form was, like, hard. Like DT said something and I started to write about her ears pining back and then realized I couldn’t. Add on the fact that Adora didn’t have normal body responses like a heartbeat or that much of a need to breathe – though she still does it instinctively, so she could still gasp and stuff – and writing this fic was a unique challenge.

DT passes themselves off as just the manager instead of the owner, but they made up Peekablue for the purpose of tax evasion. No, I will not elaborate.

DT is watching Cats because because they’re a theatre kid and also thought it was a funny joke, but then it seemed fated since I missed this update because I was watching the recording with a group for Halloween. It isn’t good. The 2019 version was so bad I’m still struggling to believe that it was something a major company invested money and time in, saw the final results of, and still released it to the public. Should have just cut their losses and saved a bit of reputation lmao.

Catra’s hate of the butter smell is because of how horrid it smells to her one she shifts, but it’s also inspired by a friend I had who worked at a movie theatre and fucking hated the smell of move popcorn after that. It clung to their uniform and wouldn’t go away. There is a class divide at the movie theatre: those who prefer working concessions because you can watch the movies from that booth, and those who prefer to work the ticket booth because you can avoid ruining the smell of popcorn as much as possible. Catra aligns herself with the latter.

Melog’s mud can’t come loose as magic has granted them an actual body, but I think if you cut them in half then the center would be mud or mud-like (maybe like that pink tubby custard a vegetarian tried to pass off as industrial meat back in the day) and they would have the ability to reform like water-droplets.

They have paperwork because Angella, despite not being techno-phobic, doesn’t trust computers with coven matters on the basis that they could be hacked, so everything is manual/physical.

Micah doesn’t actually say shit like “I’m not mad, just disappointed” but he never raises his voice and even vaguely implied disappointment threatens to make Adora cry.

Chapter 5

This entire chapter is The Scene™ for this fic.

The feeding scene was supposed to be in the last chapter. Actually, it was supposed to be in chapter 3 in the initial outline of 4-5 chapters. As I was writing chapter 2 and I kept inserting scenes not in my initial plan, my outline grew to a solid 5 chapters, but I still posted it with a predicted count of just 4 because I would rather add chapters than take them away. The adjusted outline had the feeding scene at the beginning of chapter 4… and then I wrote chapter 3 and only got to half the stuff I wanted to, which pushed the feeding scene out again to the very end of chapter 4. Except when I got there, there had once again been more added scenes that meant I had run out of room and it got pushed to the beginning of chapter 5. What I had left in my plan was about 1 to 1 & ½ chapters from there, so I was like, I still don’t know for sure it’s gonna be 6 chapters, maybe I’ll just make the final chapter long, and I left the count at 5 until I finished that feeding scene and realized I was already at 6k for Chapter 5 T_T I finished the chapter and gave up on making the fic just 5 chapters at that point. I was so determined to make this a short fic with just 4-5 chapters and it just refused to happen.

Chapter 6

Adora not wanting to kiss Human!Catra was inspired by when I dated a girl with glasses and I felt like I was cheating on her when I kissed her while she had them off. She just looked so different that it felt wrong.

Melog doesn’t need to eat or feel much motivation to do so, but they do find smells interesting.

In this AU, the only way to become a werecreature is to be bitten by another one on the full moon and get their saliva in your bloodstream. You because whatever werecreatue they were, as each kind has its own strains, but appearances vary based on the person.

Adora’s job as an enforcer is to be the first line of defense before they call in a hunter, so she doesn’t kill people. Rather, she hunts them down and tries to talk to them to sort out misunderstandings and accidents. If what occurred was neither and they didn’t have a good reason for what they did, she then calls in hunters, helps them track the individual, and leaves it in their hands. She is hopefully able to help them before that is necessary, though if that isn’t possible, she is comforted by knowing she is helping to protect innocents from people like her.

Catra’s operation on herself is inspired by the five women in recorded history who have survived performing their own c-sections. One was in 2000 and both she and her baby survived. Reading about it is insane. Her name is Ines Ramirez Perez if you want to look it up, but don’t if you’re squeamish. Of course, a human could never remove their own heart, but Catra was still an undead vampire at that point in the operation and could only be killed via being staked, in addition to her werecat healing factor that helped her recover afterwards. A normal human, even if someone else performing the ritual, likely wouldn’t have recovered, but it would be possible, and anyone with a healing factor has far increased odds.

I don’t really explicitly confirm it, but Catra’s taste changed due to a combination of her new heart, the large transfusion, the change in her diet, the change in her health, her recent healing, and having detoxified her blood in the ritual.

The car isn’t mentioned really in this chapter because Adora didn’t get it back from the mechanic until a few days after the fic ended.

Original Outline:

This fic weirdly changed and… didn’t. The backstory changed, but my ideas for the fic itself were always centered around a few scenes, and those followed their outlines pretty well.

My original idea for the backstory was Catra and Adora having the same experience that they ended up having in the final version, but Shadow Weaver wasn’t acting alone. Rather, she was part of a vampire cult (along with Hordak and a few other villains) led by Horde Prime that’s entire goal was creating more higher vampires. It was going to be that Adora was eventually freed when hunters came after the cult, but them letting her live and not mistaking her for just another member of the cult would have been a bit flimsy. Truthfully, though, I changed this just because it was too dense of a backstory. The backstory for this fic is still dense, but this would have just been too much for a “short” fic. However, if this was a full length AU (9+ chapters), I would have kept the cult part of the backstory.

I also changed the world. In my original concept for the first, hybrids still existed so Catra was magicat that, as a werecat, could also transform into a full cat. However, as I wanted the supernatural community to be a secret in this AU, having hybrids also exist kind of “lowered the stakes” since there were already multiple races out in the world and the only reason for supernatural folk to keep themselves quiet would be fear of rejection based on their powers, I guess. It just made more sense for there to only be humans in this AU and all hybrids to be represented as a “halfway form” form for their respective werecreature (werecats & magicats, werelizards & lizardfolk, etc).

As far as the fic itself goes, there was only two changes, really: 1) everyone living on the farm rather than in a regular neighbourhood (which allows them the privacy to be their supernatural selves, so it just made more sense) and Catra not having a place of her own (which allowed for her to move into Adora’s place easier, crucial for the tight turnaround of this AU, and also hammered home the “always running” narrative). 2) is that… well, I came up with this idea before I wrote OTOS, but around the same time. What I’m saying is, in the original, Catra ran back to her own place after healing up, still bitter about the killing/turning thing, and she only returned to Adora when her heart started, thus prompting her to “temporarily” move in. However, I really am done writing heat, so after I wrote OTOS I knew that I would change that, and making it so Catra didn’t have her own place to stay allowed her stay Adora the whole time more easily.

I wrote a very detailed outline for the feeding scene, as well as snippets of other scenes, all on the same day that I came up with this idea and all of that only needed minor adjustment to work with where they ended up being by that point in the fic. Overall, the story of the fic largely didn’t change.

Meta:

Batdora shenanigans

Timeline:

Chapter 1:

             Saturday: Hit with car.

             Sunday morning: Call Micah/Mara, wake up broken.

Chapter 2:

             Sunday afternoon: Glimmer and Bow come over, breakfast, bathroom, cuddle.

Chapter 3:

             Monday: Catra walking, throwing books, getting hot, Glimbow confrontation, nightmare.

Chapter 4:

             Tuesday: Catra going to work, DT, Glimbow talk, car, cuddle, night farming.

Chapter 5:

             Tuesday night/Wednesday early morning: feeding fight, waking up together, staying.

Chapter 6:

             Wednesday: Breakfast, unpacking, grocery store/kiss, first kiss/making out.

             Thursday: (Catra works), asks Glimmer about blood.

             Friday: Batdora walking, (Catra working), Asks Glimmer if Catra can stay.

             Saturday: Mara letter writing, handing off letter.

             Sunday: Melog’s fed up with moping.

[1234-angelika]

Off the Clock

an:this is the first part of my Happily Ever After series for Derek. I'm exicted to share this with you guys. I hope y'all like it.

words:1.3k

warnings:implied sexual harrassment (nothing descriptive), sexism, language

summary:"I like to use the hard times in the past to motivate me today." -Dwayne Johnson

masterpost|taglist|have an idea

Throughout high school, you worked at the bowling alley down the road from your house. You made a lot of memories there with your friends and even had your first heartbreak there. After graduation, you made the decision to work for another year before heading off to university. You applied to universities all over the place but had your heart set on one, the University of Texas at Knoxville. After doing research, you decided on that one. With your hard work, you managed to save up enough to make through for a while, and when they offered you a scholarship, you were ecstatic. After four years of hard work for your Bachelor's degree in Kinesiology, you graduated with honours and then, you were done. For a while, at least.

After getting your Bachelor's degree, you decided that you wanted to study kinesiology more in-depth and go in for your Master's degree. For that, you headed to James Maddison University in Harrisburg, Virginia. You took two years to complete your Master's degree even while you worked part-time to save up some money. Once you obtained your Master's degree, you got certified as a personal trainer by the International Sports Sciences Association.

Months later, looking for work with no luck, you found yourself hired by the FBI Academy to train the new recruits at Quantico. When you had started, only one other female trainer was working there. Her name was Catherine. The first thing she had said when she saw you, bright-eyed and excited to be there, was;

"Watch out for Derek Morgan. He's a ladies man, constantly flirts with all the women—" she paused and looked at you pointedly. "—don't let yourself fall for him."

And then she walked away. The two of you were fast friends and often bonded over the sexist recruits set on joining the FBI.

In the years you worked at the FBI, you had met many wonderful agents and some not-so. You made friends with some of the agents who came into the gym at lunch or after work. Often chatting as you worked out alongside each other. You always heard the women talking about the mysterious Derek Morgan, the same one mentioned to you on your first day. Somehow, you were never at the gym when he came in. So you were just left with the stories you heard.

The women over the years changed; very few stayed but somehow, they were always talking about Derek. About how he flirted teasingly with them, and they were falling in love or how they wished that he would go out with them. As time went on, though, the stories of Derek Morgan slowed to a stop, like a stream gradually drying up. It changed into gossip. About how he had a girlfriend, and then it became how he had gotten married over the summer and all of a sudden, it was Derek' ladies man' Morgan had become a dad. And yet, you were still wondering who exactly this Derek Morgan is.

Over the last couple of months, you had one recruit become increasingly annoying and flirtatious. After multiple times of being asked to stop, you found out she had been harassing other female agents as well. End of day Friday, you had taken your recommendation that she be removed from the academy to your boss. They said that they would take your findings into consideration and dismissed you. You left work that night feeling tired and annoyed. Those feelings only increased over the weekend after getting calls from a few college friends informing you of their pending nuptials. You weren't disappointed in your life; in fact, you were pretty proud of how well you did and the job you had now, but, most nights, you wished you had someone to share that with. The feelings from the week only aggravated those emotions. Dating was hard, most men were intimidated by you or your job, and your lack of experience in the dating world didn't help so, you put it on pause.

Monday morning rolled around, and you decided to try and put the past week behind you. You got ready for the day and then headed to your favourite café. Starting your day with an iced matcha latte was your favourite thing to do, but often, you were too busy to do that. After, you headed to work blasting your jams in the car and singing along, determined to start the day off on a good note. After all, Monday sets the tone for the rest of the week. You greeted colleagues in the halls with a smile on your way to the gym. Upon arrival, you got your paperwork ready and in order for the recruit training.

The day passed slowly, and then it was the end of your day. Instead of going home, like usual, you made the decision to stay at the gym off the clock and try and channel some frustration and pain from the past week into exercise. You pulled out a new training set you were going to use on the recruit's next session and slowly got started on it. First was the mile and a half run as a warm-up. Then you moved on to tricep dips, a minute plank and a set of chest presses. Then you moved onto the pushups and one minute of sit-ups. Lastly was the 300-meter sprint. Jotting down some notes, you moved on to your regular routine.

The clanging of weights filled your ears as the last of the agents in the gym continued their workouts. Instead of annoying, it became motivating, and the sound itself became satisfying because it signified the completion of a set. You pushed yourself to keep going, desperately wanting those gains. Music blared in your headphones as you continued your workout. Continuing the cycle of activity, you wandered from the mats to the weights.

A gorgeous man—who looked like he was sculpted by the gods—was also by the weight rack. Your mind started to drift, and you shook your head lightly to focus. You were both training in front of the mirror, and occasionally, you let your eyes drift over to him, hoping he was too focused on what he was doing to notice. To end off your workout, you were hoping to do your usual bench press. Since you were alone, though, you didn't feel safe enough, not without a spotter. You started to clean up when an idea popped into your head. As you were cleaning up, the man had finished his set and was on his way out the door. Pausing, you jogged up to him, fully aware of how weird your behaviour could be interpreted.

"Wait up!" You said when you were just a few steps behind him.

He turned around with confusion on his face, looking around for the person who had called out. And then his eyes landed on you. He checked you out, not so subtly, and a smirk made its way onto his face.

"Hey, I'm Derek Morgan. What's your name gorgeous?"

You rolled your eyes in humour and then answered him.

"Thanks handsome. My name's Y/N. Look, I know that you were heading out but, do you think you could spare a couple minutes and spot me so I can press?"

The smirk that was on his face was replaced by a friendly, dazzling smile. "No problem Y/N."

Just the way he said your name did something to you. At that moment, you realized precisely what Catherine had warned you about. The dazzling Derek Morgan.

[serenasoutherlyns]

Not a Summer Crush Part Four

a/n: this is a long one! enjoy. this chapter features coffee, colds, cuteness, serena southerlyn, schemes, saturdays. all feedback makes me LOVE you, so please please reblog, reply, like, anything! you can always find this on ao3 as well. happy evening, and part five coming at you soon!

Part Four

"Haley," Anderson stopped you in the kitchen the next day. He was reaching into the fridge to get one of the terrible salads he always ate and you were rinsing out your French press (you figured, there were plenty of coffee shops nearby but a) you didn't need to be spending your money like that and b) the way the grounds fell as you pushed them slowly to the bottom had more than once brought you moments of enlightenment). You didn't stop to listen initially but he continued. "Haley," he said, "how do you do," he paused, gestured to your whole body, "that."

You looked at him, blinked, expecting him to clarify, but he did not. You laughed at him, gently, appropriately. "I don't know, Anderson, I was born 27 years ago," he winced, "I did some things, I'll do some more things, in fact, I spend most of my time doing," you gestured to yourself, "this."

He opened his mouth a few times, trying to think of what he meant, but said, "I mean, you work sex crimes, and you're so,"

"Exuberant?" You said.

"I was going to say bubbly."

"Hm."

"Forget I said anything."

"No," you said, taking pity on the guy. "It's ok," you patted his shoulder, "You learn to deal with it, right? I mean, I think I am."

“How do you keep it from getting to you?” His question made you laugh, then your face fell, something serious behind your eyes.

“It gets to me. I’m so sad all the time. But if I always acted how I felt, I don’t think I could do it.”

"Right," he said, not quite convinced. "Look I've been with homicide for five months and I still don't think I'm there yet."

"Give up or give it more time then," you said to him with a raise of your newly cleaned French press and a shrug. As you walked back to your office (you had banned him from having meals in there in your first week on the job) he watched the way you occasionally raised yourself up on your toes, in awe at your apparent ability to stay sunny.

Someone else noticed your little rise and lower. Alex Cabot had, today, decided to leave the blinds to her office door open. It was so she could catch moments just like this one, you bopping along in the hallway with your coffee maker, somewhere between walking and dancing.

Fuck, she thought, not even bothering to stop the grin, that's so cute.

Alex had talked to Casey. Well, Casey brought it up, actually, but Alex would have.

---

"So, I talked to Rita," Casey'd said almost before she shut the door behind her.

"Good evening to you, too, baby," Alex said, greeting her in the entranceway, kissing her sweetly. Casey smiled into it. Casey broke the kiss and walked towards their living room, her body aching for a comfortable seat. Alex walked behind her, pinching her (lovely perfect gorgeous) ass, causing her wife to yelp in the silly way she reserved for Alex alone. Casey always flopped onto the couch, which had originally annoyed Alex. She'd once insisted Alex try it, and while she did not move to change her habits, she admitted to seeing the appeal.

Alex, having followed Casey to the couch, bypassed the ample seating and chose the same side as her wife, who was sitting against the arm rather than the back, providing a perfect avenue for Alex to make her way up her body, continuing what she'd started. When Casey moaned, Alex got up and walked to the kitchen, ignoring Casey's whines. Alex picked up the plates where she'd put dinner (ok, it was carryout, but still, plates!) and joined Casey, another habit that was Casey's first, this one she was happy to go along with.

Casey and Alex sat on the floor, playing quiet music and making their usual conversation, routine and comforting.

"So, you talked to Rita?"

"Mm, mmhmm," Casey said, Alex having caught her mid-asparagus-bite. They laughed. "Yeah, I talked to Rita. She almost broke my door down to ask if I was sleeping with Caroline.”

Alex paled, “I was just talking to Serena about the same thing.”A panicked look flashed across Casey’s eyes. “Oh god, no, I don’t think you’re cheating on me. I mean, I went to Serena’s to be all emotional about Caroline.”

“I nearly cried.”

“In front of Rita Calhoun? And she didn’t melt?”

Casey scoffed, “She’s made me cry so many times.”

“I try to forget that fact,” Alex said.

“Fair enough. Anyway, apparently, her prowess in deductive reasoning led her to believe that I was having an affair.”

“A one-sided affair, that’s new.”

“Two-sided, unless both of us are only one side.”

“Two-sided implies there’s something there.”

“Isn’t there?”

“Isn’t that it.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

They both picked at their salads, wondering why Alex had bought salad. Casey looked up at the ceiling, Alex looked down, fiddled with the rug. Alex skipped a couple songs on her phone.

“Casey, what are we going to do about this. I don’t, I mean, I think, um.”

“I don’t know. I guess, our options are, pursue what we want or don’t and get over it.”

“If you put it that way,” Alex said, pausing, “I think we need to know what we want.”

“What do you want?”

“I want you. I want us both to be really happy, and I want her.”

Casey took a sip of her wine, agreeing with her fingertips, taking Alex’s hand. “You said what I was thinking.”

“What do you want, though? Serena said this thing about me being upset over a threesome we haven’t had and I kind of thought like, I don’t think I just want sex, um. I don’t know if that’s how you feel.”

“I do feel that way, actually, Lex.”

Casey held their hands up to her cheek, kissed Alex’s.

“So we’re pursuing that?”

“So we’re pursuing that.”

“What if,” Alex started. Casey responded with a shrug, and Alex thoughtfully nodded.

---

So, they were pursuing it. What that was going to mean was unclear as of the moment Alex saw you being very cute in the hallway, but they’d agreed that they wanted some kind of relationship, romantic, sexual. They wouldn’t want it if you only wanted one of them, they wouldn’t want just sex. It all would work out, Alex hoped. Casey was more confident than she was, but Alex had more of a cautious spirit when it came to relationships. They were well balanced. Alex hoped (and hoped and hoped) that you would want them. She gave herself a few more moments to smile, then turned back to her work.

Despite Anderson’s impressions and what Alex saw, you were not, in fact, feeling good. It was the middle of summer, but you couldn’t get warm. It’s just a cold, you thought, as you held your hands against the warmth of the coffee. Your cases were getting overwhelming, and you couldn’t afford to take any time off right now, not even to be sick in bed. Getting sick in the summer was exactly your luck.

A knock on your door startled you. You quickly collected your composure, turned on your peppy demeanor (you told the truth to Anderson: you learned how to seem OK a long time ago).

“Hey,” Casey said. “Are you in court at all today?”

You shook your head. “No, just paperwork, research. Why?”

Casey shrugged. “Thought you might want to have lunch or something.”

“I ate already,” you lied. You just didn’t want to request a place that served chicken soup. Your appetite had disappeared. “Sorry,” you said with an apologetic smile. “You want some coffee?” you asked, gesturing to the full pot.

“Sure, actually. The setup is a smart idea.”

“Isn’t it?” you said, getting up to pour two cups. “My apologies for the lack of sugar and cream.”

“Ah, it’s ok.” Casey said, accepting the cup and sitting down across from you in the extra chair. “No honey?”

“Alex told you,” You said, smiling, and Casey nodded. “It’s more of a special occasion thing.”

You watched her blow on the drink, her lips pursed over the top of it. They were a lovely shade of pink, you decided. She stuck her tongue out a bit when she took a sip, like a butterfly and its proboscis, you thought. You promptly scolded yourself for thinking that sort of thing at work. You had been considering Ramin’s advice, to “use your feminine wiles” on Casey and Alex, make them want you so bad that they believed it was their idea. It was sneaky and exciting. You’d resolved to start doing tiny, almost unnoticeable things around them (however convincing they could be when congested). Before you sat, you brushed your hand along your hip; as you held your mug, you ran your fingers along the handle.

“How’s your day going?” you asked her, knowing she’d had lots of tough cases recently. SVU had brought you on as a junior ADA because with the rising awareness of sexually-based crimes (a good inconvenience), the caseloads had risen to an all-time height, even after they brought Gillian back in to cover some cases. They were both very relieved that the gamble the office had taken in hiring a young person, whose experience had mostly been in property crimes, had worked out. It stood to reason, Casey had pushed for a younger lawyer, knowing first hand how much of a strength that could be; and when Alex had seen two Stanford degrees on your C.V., she felt sure too. You’d been a good choice. Still, you were all four overextended.

“Eh, it’s been fine, all things considered,” Casey replied. She watched as you fiddled with the tips of your hair. You’d begun wearing it curly more often, which had proven to be somewhat distracting for her. “How good can any day be in this line of work.”

You agreed with a nod. “I was just talking to Anderson about that.”

“What did he have to say?” Casey asked, knowing the attorney’s propensity for putting his foot in his mouth.

“I feel for the guy. I think he’s having trouble in homicide. He called me bubbly.”

“You are bubbly.”

“I’m energetic.”

“He should transfer to white collar. He’s got the attitude for it.”

You squinted your eyes scoldingly. “You would know.”

“I would.” The two of you broke into much-needed laughter. You were about halfway through your cup, but wished you were at the beginning again. “Was it hard?” you asked, “moving from white collar to sex crimes? I mean, just the level of emotional complication required, it must be so different from all that, detail.”

“It’s the hardest thing I think I’ll ever do in my professional life, yes.” Casey always looked you right in the eye, it was intense, the way she never averted her gaze. You tended to shift your gaze around rooms, taking in details, never resting on anything for too long. People sometimes wondered if you were paying attention, and explaining that looking them in the eye made it harder to listen didn’t work. Casey never cared, or at the very least never brought it up, just let you be the way you were. She set her coffee cup down. “I cried in my office my first day, in front of Olivia. I practically begged Arthur Branch to reassign me. I had wanted homicide, major cases. You know, all the glory less of the gore.”

“Have you ever regretted it since?”

“Never long enough to think about leaving. Voluntarily, that is,” she stated with a smile, referencing her suspension. You didn’t know all that much about what had happened, and you let her talk with a warm and open demeanor. “In all honesty, I needed that suspension to rewire my brain, I was drowning. And it didn’t last as long as I thought it would. That’s actually when I got together with Alex,” she said, smiling again, wider this time. “In a stupid hipster bar. She had brown hair at the time, I almost didn’t recognize her.”

“Please tell me you have pictures of brunette Alex Cabot.”

“Oh, I do, but they’re all buried deep in different camera rolls…” she trailed off in memories, “I’ll find them for you when I need to embarrass her. I, for one, liked the brown, but she can be very self-conscious.”

“You wouldn’t guess that when you meet her.”

“No, you really wouldn’t. But, Caroline,” Casey said, and hearing your name out of her mouth never failed to give you butterflies, “truly, I don’t think ‘like’ is an appropriate word for what I, what we do, but I feel called to it.”

“I think I do too.”

“Retention rates in this field are low. You’ve already outlasted them. I think that’s proof enough.”

You finished your coffee and brought your mug to the little table where you kept it. How you had such a messy desk but such a tidy coffee space evaded Casey, and probably told her more about you than you’d like. Alex walked by your office coming back from a meeting, pleased to see you and Casey conversing in the junior office. Casey finished her coffee shortly after you did. She met Alex in the hallway.

---

“Counselor, do you need a tissue?” Judge Catano said to you in an irritated tone in chambers the next day, apparently after one sniffle too many.

“Or a nap,” John Buchanan added under his breath as you pulled a nearly empty packet out of your suit pocket and wiped your nose.

“Thank you for your concern, I assure you both that I am quite alright.”

---

“Go home, get some sleep. Your cases will be there in the morning.” Alex said the evening after that, passing by the open door to your office on her way out.

“I won’t stay long,” you replied, knowing full-well that you would.

---

The day after that, Anderson got in your way at the wrong time and found himself unfortunately sneezed on.

---

You made it to Friday, and despite what you were telling yourself, you kept getting sicker. Every day was like time couldn’t decide between speeding and slowing down. Sometimes, you’d look up from what felt like ten minutes of work and an hour had passed, sometimes a meeting that felt like an hour was only ten minutes. And you still had work to do. Casey tapped on the door, unsurprised, again, to find you were the only one there. Anderson had left about a half hour ago, the other juniors often left right at 5:00.

“Hey,” she called from the doorway.

“Yeah?” You replied, looking at her over the top of your laptop.

“Come work in my office?” She asked. You’d taken to working with her or Alex or both of them in the evenings, with the general idea that many heads make light work. Or something. Really, for you, it was just a good excuse to spend time together.

“Sure,” you replied, “meet you there.” She walked off as you packed up your things. You were a bit woozy as you stood up from your desk. Oh well, that was how it went. You made yourself comfortable in Casey’s office (Alex, she explained, was off picking up some documents at the precinct).

You shivered in your seat on the couch, you blew your nose Casey eyed you, having noticed how you’d been sniffling all week. “Allergies? I have some Zyrtec somewhere in this desk,” she said, opening her drawer up to look.

“Oh, no, I’m not allergic to anything, I just didn’t,” sniff, “sleep well last night.”

This was an attitude Casey knew well.

---

Alex always liked summer evenings in the city. Yes, the smell required some getting used to, it could get noisy and crowded, but something about the way the orange light (that lasted longer than any other time of year) played off the tall buildings, the metal vendors on the sidewalk-- it just got to her, made her enjoy the walks she took from place to place. She checked her notifications on the way back from the precinct.

Casey: Caroline is sitting in my office sniffling and looking pale.

Alex: “Allergies?”

Casey: She denies them.

Alex: So the cold she’s had all week caught up to her?

Casey: Can you pick up some meds and we can make her go home?

Alex: I mean, good luck to us…

Casey: Alex.

Alex sighed and crossed the street, ducking into a Duane Reed for the requisite illness package. convincing you to take advantage of it was going to be a wholly different task.

When she arrived back at the office, she discovered a different scene than she expected. As she reached Casey’s office door with the supplies, her wife caught her eye through the window, motioning at her to be quiet when she came in. Alex was, and saw you, on Casey’s couch, deeply asleep with your fingers still on your laptop keyboard, typing endless spaces in a Word document.

“Well,” Alex whispered, coming to Casey’s side, leaning against her desk. “That’s certainly adorable.”

“I couldn’t bring myself to wake her up,” Casey said, “poor thing.” Alex looked at you, your curls flipped up over your forehead, your pink cheeks, your pile of work beside you. A warm sense of nostalgia lit up inside her.

“Remember, when we first came back to the DA’s office,” Alex said, seeing Casey smile playfully, the same feelings building in her chest.

“And there was a horrible bug going around the office,” Casey continued, telling the story for her wife.

“And I refused to admit I’d gotten it,”

“And I found you asleep, with your head on a legal pad,” Casey squeezed Alex’s hand.

“Because I was late to a meeting,” Alex tucked a strand of hair behind Casey’s ear.

“And when you lifted your head up, your forehead was covered in ink,” Casey finished the story with a grin, teasing her wife. “Yeah, I remember that. And I remember trying and failing to get you home, and I remember you getting me sick.”

“Only because you couldn’t keep yourself from kissing me,” Alex said. Casey just shrugged, acknowledging that her wife was correct. They had no need to say what they both were thinking, and, in fact, no time.

You stirred, stretching out, very sleepily. They snapped out of their reverie. “Hey, you two,” you said, your voice nasal. “You guys are so cute,” you continued, still not quite awake, you said what was on your mind. You felt a bit voyeuristic, but you didn’t mind. “Sorry for eavesdropping,” you said, waking up more fully, “sorry I fell asleep, Casey,” you said. You started to pull the notes you were looking at back up to your lap, but as you picked them up, you noticed someone else was holding the other end. Alex had a grip on them, and you were too weak to resist as she picked up all your papers and put them back in your bag.

“Laptop,” she said, holding out her hand. You gave it to her, looking to the side, embarrassed. She held out a packet containing two pills. “Take these,” she said, giving you a bottle of water as well. You wanted to protest, tell her that you were perfectly capable of getting what you had left done, but as you looked at her, then across the room to Casey, you realized that not only would any attempt be futile, you wanted nothing more than to fall asleep in your bed and stay there until you didn’t feel like this anymore. You nodded.

Casey’s voice came from behind Alex, gentle. Still raspy, but more than quiet, sympathetic, understanding-- gentle, a tone meant to be heard from close by and listened to in earnest. “Please take care of yourself.”

Who could refuse that?

---

Alex accompanied you on the cab ride home. Casey genuinely had work she had to finish, and neither of them was about to let you ride your bike or take the subway in your state. You lived in Brooklyn, but close enough to the courthouse that you didn’t feel too guilty about accepting her help when she offered. You tried to make conversation, but you were simply too tired to talk much, and as the sun finished setting, you arrived at the townhouse. Ashley and Ramin lived in the three bedroom unit on the first floor while you lived in the one bedroom unit on the second. It was really a glorified studio, the bedroom was just big enough for a queen-sized bed, the living room barely fit a couch, and the kitchen was mostly good for making tea; but that was why you had a key to your best friends’ apartment. You hesitated on the steps in the still warm air, considering if it would be a bad idea to ask Alex to come up the rest of the way with you, but she had clearly already made up her mind to do so (she had not bought all those supplies for nothing).

Your apartment was cozy, Alex thought as she placed the medicines and magazines and bottles of Gatorade in convenient spots in your tiny kitchen. You went straight for the bathroom, using what energy you had to change into pajamas, brush your teeth, and wash your face. Not much food in the fridge, lots of coffee and tea. A little table covered in papers and books; some law journals, some fantasy novels, some picture books. There were stuffed animals in a bin beside the couch, a couple clearly old enough to be yours. You had one of the fluffiest rugs she’d ever seen and enough throw pillows to drown in, and candles all over the place. Your walls were covered in art; some clearly original abstract pieces signed R.R, some prints from the MoMA, old post cards and family photos (only a couple of your siblings, but countless of Ashley and his family, dancers too), and kids’ drawings, all displayed together, given equal weight. It made no sense aesthetically, technically, but everything about the place screamed Caroline, so she found herself enamored with it.

You emerged from the bathroom with your hair tied on top of your head, wearing an oversized tee and fuzzy pants. It wasn’t your usual choice, but being sick had you feeling like everything around you needed to be soft and cuddly. Alex showed you where she placed everything she’d bought for you, but as she talked, your (maybe feverish) focus could only follow her beautiful blue eyes as they followed your own. You felt warmth, gratitude; you watched her seem concerned and adoring all at once. This whole scenario; Alex in your apartment while the stars were out, taking care of you, seeing you in your pajamas, sniffling and blushing, it made no sense when you thought about it. Yet, it seemed perfectly natural to you, having her in your place. Part of you wanted to kiss her then and there, pull her into your bed and try to get her to cuddle, but, of course, those were not thoughts you shared out loud. Instead, you expressed your gratitude as emphatically as your could manage.

“Get some sleep, Caroline.”

“I will. Alex, thank you.”

---

Alex made you take the following Monday and Tuesday off. Since she didn’t technically have that ability, you responded to her texts by telling her as much. Then, she got Jack McCoy to email you the same sentiments, and that, you couldn’t fight. You arrived at work on Wednesday refreshed, well-rested, and decidedly not sniffly, and she was only a little bit smug. She all but said “I told you so” when you said hello that morning-- but you very quickly shut her up by giving her a smile and an eye roll, taking pride and pleasure in the tiny bite of her lip you saw flash by as you returned to your desk.

That afternoon, you were happy to run into Serena Southerlyn on the courthouse steps, her leaving as you and Alex were returning (there was a case you were working together, you as second chair). She greeted Alex with a professional hug, you with a warm handshake. She had a glint in her eyes, something mischievous about her when she asked, after the usual workplace pleasantries, “you’ll both be there tomorrow, right? For drinks? Gillian said she had something to celebrate, I bet she got accepted to one of those PhD programs.”

“Casey and I will be,” Alex said, looking to you. You tucked a curl behind your ear, another habit of yours she’d noticed, when you were worried.

“I’ll certainly try,” you said, happy that you were now getting regular invitations to drinks, “I promised I’d help Ophélie’s mock trial team prepare for this weekend, she gets pretty nervous about them.”

“They have mock trial that young?” Serena asked.

“Yeah, it’s pretty cute too. A bunch of 12-year-olds in suits using legal language.” As you spoke, Alex understood a little better, Casey’s perspective on children. She chuckled lightly.

“Is she the prosecution or the defense?” asked Alex. You groaned in response.

“Don’t remind me. She chose defense specifically to spite me, and now I go to her school twice a month to teach her how to do it.”

“I think I like this kid,” Serena said. “But I really hope you can make it tomorrow.”

“I’ll do what I can,” you said, knowing you would likely be able to go, but not wanting to promise anything.

“Good,” Serena said as she started walking down the steps again. She turned around when she was struck with an idea. Alex had told her about her and Casey’s ideas, but, frankly, she felt like they were not moving fast enough, and having known them both for years, knew how they needed a push sometimes to go for what they wanted. You and Alex had only gone a few steps, so you didn’t miss the swoosh of blonde hair coming back towards you.

“I remembered,” Serena said, “ I was going to ask you, Caroline, are you going to any salsa nights again soon?” You looked taken aback as she clarified, “I’ve wanted to pick it back up for a little while. I was going to ask last time but the conversation moved too fast.”

“You dance salsa?” Alex asked, blindsided. Serena nodded, an implied obviously in her expression. “When did you learn?” She asked again, knowing that Serena’s upbringing had been astonishingly similar to hers as far as old money and conservative attitudes went.

“Study abroad.”

You let it be quiet for a short moment, seeing Alex and Serena communicate with looks, something panicked in Alex’s and something scheming in Serena’s. You filed the moment away to think about later.

“Yes, actually, I think I’m going to one on Saturday, in Brooklyn as usual,” you said, testing the waters of their reactions. “Ashley’s still on tour so I was going to see if one of my old teammates would want to go with me,” you said. Alex squinted her eyes slightly, Serena knit her fingers together as you spoke. “But if you would like to, Serena,” you decided to just go for the invite, “we should go together.”

You thought you saw a flicker of jealousy from Alex when Serena enthusiastically accepted your invitation. You couldn’t be quite sure, but it was enough hope to leave another little piece of you burning.

---

@addictedtodinosaurs @nocreditinthestraightworld @sweetprentiss

remindr to sign up for my tagłist if you vvant to be tagged in these! (some of my keys are broken)

[tomfreakinghollandneedsaoscar]

Post It's

Pairing: JJ Maybank x You

Summary: JJ and you both work at the hotel. Never meeting each other, you leave notes on the others locker.

Word Count: 1,787

Warning: Fluff that's its tooth rooting.

Note: Knowing that JJ works as a bus boy in the show and seeing how well he looked in episode 5, I couldn't get this idea out of my head. Tumblr was keep messing up as I was writing this so I'm going to post this and throw my phone out of my bedroom window now :) I hope you love it! :)

━━━

"DON'T EAT SOMEONE ELSE'S LUNCH!"

"Or what? ;) - JJ"

"I'll end your whole career. Side note: I found out who ate my PB & Jelly sandwich and it wasn't you so don't get any idea's now. - Y/N"

━━━

JJ bullshit his way through the hiring process. It might not be his dream job, but it was easy. He had to do something when he realized he had to grow and man up. His father didn't teach him that. His the reason.

The small tips he gets from all the older women after he gives them more attention than their husband's - they're either on 'work' call or still playing a game of golf - doesn't hurt. It's adds up quick. He normally buys more groceries for him and John B as an unspoken thank you for letting him basically live with him. Then he treats himself with new weed. He needs it after surrounded by Kooks and playing the part of a little bitch for them.

As soon as he clocks out for the day, he undo the tie harshly. That's another thing he hates about this job - the uniform. White button up long sleeves, black dress pants with black dress shoes. If it's a morning and evening shift, the finish touch is a black vest. For nights, it's a black tie. Even if he is only walking around to give people refills, asking if they're doing fine, and cleaning up afterwards, his hair must look well put together.

He is unbutton his shirt when he stops in front of his locker. He's smiling at the post it on his locker before he even reads it. He knows who it's from.

It started a month ago. Someone left a message taped on the fridge in the break room for everyone to read. He knows he didn't have to, but he wrote down a response on the piece of paper. He wasn't expecting one back. When the front and back got filled up, he started looking for the same name on a locker. He left a post it note.

He reads the newest one on his locker.

"Fun fact of the day: you're reading this. - Y/N"

He rolls his eyes. He pulls it off and opens his locker, grabbing his normal clothes to go change. He adds it to the pile with the others.

JJ decides to stop at use book store. When a co-worker asks him if he is back for extra hours, he says no. He's carrying a shopping bag.

━━━

Your morning doesn't start on a good note. Your mind wakes you up ten minutes after your alarm should've gone off. You didn't plug in the charger all the way last night, so you're phone is at 14%.

Somehow you get to work on time. You notice you forgot your nametag.

At least there's a new post it on your locker.

"Funny. Not. Look inside and thank me later ;) PS. Don't write your new comb on the back of your lock again. - JJ"

You curse at yourself underneath your breath. You start laughing when you read the title of the book he left for you.

"365 Jokes For Kids: A Joke A Day Book."

You put it in your bag and grab your clear water bottle before closing your locker to clock in.

━━━

The giant clock on the wall taunts you. Only ten more minutes until your break and you can finally eat something.

From the dinner-room area a cute blonde starts walking towards you. By his outfit, you can't help to silent pray that he isn't a boy on a vacation and just knows how to look hot as hell all dressed up. Underneath a black vest, the long white button up shows off his muscles and the sleeves are rolled up, which is just another level of attractiveness itself, and his legs look long and firm in the dress pants. It's his hair that got your attention in the first place and now you can't help to watch as he pulls it, running his fingers through it.

Checking out cute guys all day is definitely a perk for you. Sitting behind a desk all day and being first person people see as they walk in, helping them check in or out, and answering calls is not how you wanted to spend your summer.

Last month your dad pulled some strings over a game of golf to land you this job. He sounds like a robot every time he tells you that you need to work your ass off to get the money you deserve. How is this doing that?

You get out of you thoughts when the cute blonde doesn't go in front of the desk. Instead you have to spin your chair sideways. He learns over the pull-up door and does a hand gesture, telling you to come over. You do.

"Hey."

"Hi?" It comes out as a questin since you're confused as to why he is keep looking back at the dinner room. He seems like he is afraid of getting caught. "Can I help with you something?"

"Can you make an announcement? Over the speaker loud enough for all they to hear?" He looks over again and points.

"It all matters about what you want me to say."

"Say that it's hard as fuck for me to do my job when lil Satan's are running around and how great it would be if parents tell them to stop before I do. I can't get written up or life my job because of them."

You try to hide your excitement when you find out he works here. He's not wearing a nametag. You know that it's only bus boys who don't. Briefly, you wonder if he knows JJ.

"I'm sorry. I wish I could but I can't. Parents will come up and start yelling at me that I should keep my mouth shut and thoughts to myself."

He clenches his jaw and mumbles, "yeah. Right, of course."

"When I come back from my lunch, you can-uh everytime you want to lose your shit, look over here, and I'll give you a thumbs up for not killing someone. Especially the kids."

His laugh makes you wish he is JJ.

Someone comes from behind him to release you. He doesn't say anything before walking away.

But later, you lose track on how many times he looks over at you and mouths, "help me".

━━━

The next day on his day off, he gushes over the front desk girl to his friends. "She made me not want to hurt a room of kooks. I think she has superpowers or some shit."

Kiara takes a hint of his blunt. "I'm kinda jealous, not going to lie. What's her name? I need her to tell how she did it after talking to you for only a couple of minutes when I've been your friend for years."

"I don't know. She wasn't wearing a nametag and I forgot to ask." Pope slaps him on the back of the head. "You forgot or worried she wasn't Y/N?"

"Oh my god!" Sarah squeals, "What if the front desk girl is also post it girl?"

JJ chokes on the hit he was taking. "Life doesn't work like that." For me. He thinks to himself. He makes eye contact with John B. Curse him for being able to read him.

"I think it's time to ask Y/N meet up, dude."

━━━

When he walks through the front doors, he catches himself getting upset seeing someone else at the front desk. He still waves and says good morning. On the door of the back room, there's a sign.

"MANDATORY STUFF MEETING WEDNESDAY, IN THE LOBBY AT 6PM"

On the very bottom, he notices Y/N handwriting.

"Looks like we'll finally meet. ♡ - You Know Who"

He kicks the door open.

━━━

He is still thinking about the stupid little heart when a waiter calls him to come over towards the kitchen. "Can you bring this to the front desk?"

"This isn't a drive in restaurant- you know what? I shouldn't be surprised and know not to ask stupid questions." He salutes the waiter and grabs the bag.

He stops dead in his tracks.

The front desk girl is now there, talking on the phone and writing stuff down. When she feels someone looking instantly at her, she looks up. She smiles and gives a small wave.

JJ cringes at himself and tries to not trip over his own two feet. He puts down the bag, and looks at everything and anything but her as he waits for her to finish the call. When she does, he quickly states, "Someone ordered food to get pick-up."

"Ah yes, Mr. Hough. He called saying he was carving for some of the all you can eat bread rolls."

When she says the name, it's like a lightbuld goes over his head as he remembers. He doesn't listen to the rest of what she says.

Before he can ask, the phone is ringing. "I should answer." She smiles and it makes him feel a tug in the corner of his mouth. "See you at the meeting tonight?"

"Yeah. I should go back to working too."

━━━

Your eyes go wide when the cute blondie sits next to you at the same time the manager says the meeting will begin shortly.

"Hey, how are you?" You ask after a few seconds of awkward silence.

"Fine." He splits out.

"Doesn't sound like it." You cross your arms against your chest. He doesn't say anything, only rolls his eyes and takes his red snapback hat off. In the corner of your eye, you watch him pull on the loose trends.

Grabbing your bag off the ground, you open it to see what you can do to pass the time like him.

"Holy shit."

You look up at him, confused. You notice he is staring at the joke book JJ gave to you. With the way he makes eye contact with you, you can tell that he is nervous.

But why would he-

"Oh my god."

"JJ, Y/N." Both of almost get whip flash to look and listen to your manager. "Pay attention please."

━━━

You're going through all the post it's in your locker, dropping some when an arm wraps around you and your boyfriend. He kisses your cheek. "Are you ready?"

"To meet your friends? I'm kinda nervous. But you've told me so much about them that I already feel like I know them."

"Trust me, they'll say the same thing about you. Ignore the names they call you."

━━━

"You're the peanut butter to my jelly. - JJ"

"That's the cheeses thing you have ever said. Say more. - Y/N."

━━━━━━━━━━━━

Taglist: @harrysbbby @sunflowerbecca @latenitewolves @outrbank @katerosexx

[lost-in-the-80s]

You Don’t Want My Love - Chapter 5

Pairing: Duff McKagan x reader

Words: 3,115k

Summary: Guns n Roses hires a new tour assistant, but nobody thought that Duff would fall for her.

In this Chapter: Y/N is back on the road with Guns n Roses. Will things with Duff remain awkward?

A/N: Hello, my friends! This chapter is very cute. I have a little spoiler about the next chapter: It’s going to be Duff's pov.  Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy it!

Tag list: @roger-taylors-car @ladieswttda @teasid @metalheartofgold  @slashscowboyboots @ginny-rose-sixx @rumoured-whispers @vinylvintage​ add yourself to my tag list :)

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

It was a bright sunny day in Los Angeles when Y/N got inside a taxi to go back on tour with Guns n Roses.

The so-called one-month pause became two as soon as Nikki Sixx, the bassist of Mötley Crüe, overdosed and the whole band had to go to rehab, leaving Guns hanging without a band to open for.

She still remembered when Tom called her telling her that they had lost the contract and that the band was feeling very down. However, Aerosmith showed up with a golden opportunity, they wanted Guns to open for them on the European leg of the tour. 

So here she was, on her way to the airport to meet with five crazy rockers who, as much as she disliked to admit, she had missed a lot.

These two months out of the road were great for her. She spent the holidays with her family in North Dakota and visited her friends in L. A and finally helped Rose with a part of the rent for the apartment.

She also enjoyed her time doing one of the things she loved the most: go to the beach and get a good old suntan. That was the best part about living in L.A in her opinion, the whole year felt like summer, completely different from the snowy and cold winter in North Dakota.

One week before going back on tour she attended an appointment at her favorite hairstylist, renovating its locks that were now quite long. Giving herself a spa day before going back to the bus’ couch, as Tom would go with them on tour again.

These two months also allowed her to think a lot about Duff. In the first days she was feeling blue, the way he spoke to her during that afternoon and how he didn’t talk to her after that hurt. He even switched places with Steven on the plane back to L.A, just so he didn’t need to sit beside her.

During December she questioned herself about what had she done that could’ve let him so angry at her, but after spending two weeks away from Los Angeles, she got to focus on other things, and following her mom’s advice she decided to give time to time and see how things would.

Izzy helped her with that process too, they crossed paths one day at a park, she went there with her friend’s nephew as she was babysitting and he was skating there. The two of them talked for a few hours and he told her that Duff was just in a bad week, that she shouldn’t take it personally, which made her lose that guilty feeling she was having.

Guilty and Sad, that’s how she was feeling in the beginning. But now she had convinced herself that whatever she had felt for Duff was over. She told herself plenty of times she just felt like that because she was feeling lonely and he had been nice to her.

So now, arriving at the airport, she was 100% sure that she’d look at Duff and her heart wouldn’t skip a bit. They’d talk and she wouldn’t stutter or blush and things would go as they were meant to be.

Walking through the crowd of people inside the airport she finally spotted a tall fuzzy blonde head. Duff. They were just a few meters away from her, making a smile appear on her face.

“Y/N!” Steven shouted waving, not sure if she had seen them.

She raised her hand waving back at him.

“Hello, fellas.” She placed her bags on the ground stopping in front of them.

“Wow, look at you, all tanned!” Slash exclaimed, opening his arms and walking towards the girl to get a hug.

“You know, every time I was about to put a shirt on, I listened to your voice saying that they were the biggest expression of my bad taste.” He said when they let go of each other, smiling at her.

“So you stopped wearing them?” She tilted her head while smiling.

“Nope.” He turned around showing the back of this t-shirt, where “Fuck off I’m out” could be read.

She shook her head, giggling a little.

“I want a hug too!” Steven popped up beside her, involving her in a bear hug, lifting off the ground. “I missed you!”

“I missed you too, Stevie.” She giggled.

“Do you want a hug too?” She looked at Izzy, smirking.

“No.” He said and the two of them laughed. 

“Well, I want one.” Duff showed up in front of her, opening his arms.

She hesitated for a second, but moved forward and wrapped her arms around his body. 

When he involved her, a certain electricity ran through her body and she wanted to never let go of him. He smelled of cigarettes and cologne though she could smell a small hint of vodka, as if it had stayed in his jacket after he washed it. 

He lowered his head to hers and said close to her left ear. “I’m sorry for being an asshole with you.” His voice was low, as if he was sharing a secret that only she could know about.

The sound caused goosebumps on her body, as she answered in almost a whisper. “It’s okay.”

They let go of each other and suddenly she realized that they had been hugging each other for quite a while, since Tom had arrived and they didn’t even notice.

Duff moved away rubbing the back of his neck, starting some conversation with Slash.

“Hey, Tom! How were your holidays?” She gave him a quick embrace before stopping beside Steven, who hugged her from beside and rested his face on her shoulder.

“It was good, I was missing the kids already.” He smiled tenderly.

“You have kids? I didn’t know that.” She moved one arm away from Steven's grip so she could hug him back.

She looked down and thought that he looked just like a child when they’re bored and start to get sleepy.

“Yes, I do. Here,” He took his wallet out of the blazer’s pocket, showing her some small pictures he had in it. “this is Jenna, she’s 10,” He pointed to a ginger girl with lots of freckles. “and this is Brian, he’s 6.” He showed a boy wearing a baseball hat.

“They’re adorable, Tom! I can’t even imagine how hard it must be for you to be away from them all the time.” Y/N smiled at him seeing that he truly loved the kids.

“Yeah, it’s difficult, but it’s a part of the job. It’s thanks to my absence that they’ll be able to go to college.” He put his wallet back in the pocket and adjusted his glasses.

“You’re a good father, Tom.”

He grinned at her words.

“You really are. Can I meet the kids someday?” Steven asked, lifting his head off of her shoulder. 

“When the tour is over, let’s have dinner together. I’ll take them and Martha along.” He grabbed his bags from the ground.

“Sure! That’d be cool.” Steven smiled, letting go of Y/N.

“Anyway. Where’s Axl? We need to be on the plane line in 15 minutes.”

“He’s late.” Izzy showed up lighting up a cigarette.

“Not so late,” Duff said, pointing towards the other side of the airport. 

Y/N looked and at first, she couldn’t see anything, but then some ginger locks in a flannel shirt showed up. 

“You’re late.” Tom said, starting to walk towards the line. 

“Sorry, Erin was keeping me busy… if you know what I mean.” He smirked.

“Jesus.” Y/N made a disgusted face while following Tom.

Inside the plane, she found herself in a seat between Steven and Slash. Duff, Izzy and Axl on the other side of the corridor while Tom was sitting one line ahead, beside an old lady.

“Oh man, I wish I could bring Ana with me.” Slash complained.

“Who’s Ana?” Y/N asked smirking.

“My python. I bought her last month.” He smiled turning towards her.

“You mean a snake?” She widened her eyes. 

He nodded.

“You have a snake as a pet?” She shivered under the thought, she was terrified of snakes.

“Yes, they are lovely creatures.”

“I’m scared to death of them.”

“No way! But they’re nice!” He turned his body towards her a little, ready to start an argumentation.

“I grew up on a farm, Slash. One of them passed right in front of my feet when we were plowing the land.”

“Did it bite you?” He moved his hair away from his face, lifting an eyebrow at her.

“Well...no.”

“Then why are you scared? They aren’t violent animals. They just attack if you scare them. Dogs kill more people per year than snakes.” 

She paused for a second. “Yeah, you’re right. But still, I don’t think I’ll ever visit your house now.”

He giggled. “Do you have any pets?”

“We always had lots of dogs. They’re easy to train and help you with some chores.” He nodded at her. “I have a cat. Though I don’t know if I could call him mine yet.”

“What do you mean?”

“I left him in ND when I moved to L.A. I just see him when I visit my parents now.”

“What’s his name?”

“Thomas.”

Slash laughed. 

“What?”

“Thomas, you know?” He laughed harder.

Y/N frowned at him, not understanding.

Then Slash pointed to the seat in front of him, where Tom was sitting. 

She looked at Tom, then at Slash, then at Tom again and finally understood. Her cat had the same name as Tom. 

Y/N laughed, she had never stopped to realize that until now.

Out in the distance, she didn’t see Duff looking at her and smiling when she laughed. 

----

Arriving in London, they followed up with their normal activities. Did the soundcheck, had an interview and went backstage to get ready.

“Do you think I should tease my hair?” Axl asked Izzy who simply shook his head as a response.

“God, I’m nervous,” Duff said walking back and forth inside the room. “I need more vodka.”

“No more drinking, you need to calm down.” Y/N pointed at him, then pointing to a black couch at the end of the room, meaning that he should sit down.

“That’s why I need vodka, love.” He walked past her, going after more booze.

The nickname made her cheeks burn and she tried her best not to smile.

“Fuck, I’m nervous too.” Slash said.

“Why are you guys so nervous? You’ve done lots of gigs like this before.” She asked, frowning.

“No, we haven’t, Y/N,” Izzy said, sitting on the couch while looking for his cigarettes. “We’re in another country, a whole different crowd.”

“It’s our first time outside from home.” Duff said, reappearing in the room and sitting beside Izzy.

“Plus, It’s Aerosmith, fuck! We can’t fuck this up.” Steven added, while trying to choose a t-shirt. “Y/N. The black or the white one?” He showed her the two blouses.

“The black one.” She pointed with her pen. “You guys just need to breathe, everything will go fine. I’m sure about it.” She smiled at them, trying to calm their nerves. 

“Shit, I think I’m gonna freak out.” Duff exclaimed, drinking almost half the bottle down. 

“Not now. I need you good okay?” Axl crouched in front of him. “Just take long breaths, it’s no big deal.”

Axl started breathing slowly, soon being followed by Duff, that seemed to get calmer.

“Guys, you have to go. You’re in in five minutes.”  She said looking at her wristwatch.

“Fuck! I’m not ready yet!” Axl complained, rushing towards their bags looking for his clothes as he was still in his travel clothing. 

“Oh, God, not today!” Izzy rolled his eyes, starting to smoke the third cigarette.

“What do you want to wear tonight?” She asked, sitting on the floor beside him. 

“My leather pants and the leather waistcoat.” He looked at her. “Find them and I’ll find the shoes and my bandana.” 

Moving to Axl’s second bag she started looking inside, throwing some of the clothes on the ground. “Got the pants!” She yelled, throwing them in his direction. 

“Not this one! I want the cowboy leather pants.” Axl complained.

“Axl!” Izzy interjected. 

“Fine, fine!” He lifted his hands in surrender.

After a few minutes, he was ready, running down the corridors while putting his sneakers on. 

“You should watch the gig,” Steven said. “You’ve never watched one.”

“That’s because I always have to organize your mess.” She giggled a little.

“No, seriously, I think you’d like it.” 

Thinking for a second she answered shrugging. “Why not?” 

“Yeas!” He smiled before getting onstage. 

Finding some equipment boxes on the side-door of the stage, she climbed on a big one, sitting on it and placing her agenda on her side. 

The gig started and she understood why everybody was getting crazy about them. 

Axl moved around as if he had eaten batteries for breakfast, jumping, running, screaming and singing. His voice was incredible and he was fierce, just what you need for a frontman.

Slash had lost all his shyness. Dancing, jumping and playing like a god. Every note that left his guitar sounded magical, precisely right. And even though she couldn’t see his face, she could tell that he loved doing that.

Izzy was like a black cat in the night, that you just notice if you pay attention. He moved around calmly, playing his guitar and singing the backing vocals so peacefully, as if he was born to do that. 

Steven, well, now she understood why they called him popcorn. His hair bounced up and down as his head accompanied the drums he was playing. He smiled and sang along and if he could, she was sure he’d get up and dance to the songs.

But nobody caught her eyes like Duff did. The velocity with which he moved his fingers, the way his head kept up with the beat of the song. The way he walked so majestically with his long legs crossing the stage in a few seconds.

He was beautiful, a masterpiece in her opinion. And she knew that there was no use in trying to fight, she was already in love with him. 

----

After the gig, they did the check-in in the hotel, taking a quick shower before stopping in a restaurant for dinner. 

Joining two tables together, they sat down. Tom and Izzy taking the borders, Axl, Slash and Steven taking one side while Y/N and Duff took the other.

It was a simple restaurant, nothing fancy, and as they talked and ate Y/N couldn’t help but feeling like she was having dinner with old friends of hers.

“So I get home and grandma is complaining that Axl was sleeping on her couch and that she wants him out of the house.” Slash was telling a story about when Axl used to sleep in his basement.  

“I go downstairs and say ‘Axl, you have to find somewhere else to stay, bro’ and he’s like furiously throwing his things inside this backpack while giving me an angry look.”

Axl was laughing at this point.

“We got in my mom’s car and I started driving him towards the place where Izzy was crashing and I was like ‘Why did you sleep on her couch, dude? I had told you not to do that!’ and he looks at me with that ‘I’m gonna kill you look’, he opens the door and jumps out of the car!”

“What?” Y/N asked.

They were all laughing.

“I was pissed.” Axl answered.

“Pissed? None of us saw you for three days!” Slash added while Duff wiped some tears away from his eyes. 

“I needed time to calm down.” Axl replied calmly, still smiling as he lifted his glass to drink from it. 

“This is the best story you guys ever told me!” She said after she stopped laughing.

----

Leaving the restaurant they started walking towards the hotel, they all went in front, leaving Duff and her behind.

It was a cold night in London and Y/N had definitely forgotten that their winter was actually cold.

A cold breeze got her when she turned a corner and she shivered, hugging herself. Her sweater was definitely not enough for a night like that. 

“Here.” She looked to her side and saw Duff taking off his leather jacket and handing it to her.

“You don’t have to.” 

“Y/N. Take the jacket.” He smiled at her.

She took it, her cold fingers touching his warm hand slightly. 

Putting the jacket on she realized it was big on her, the smell of his cologne mixed with Marlboro hit her nostrils and she hugged the jacket closer to her body, wishing that it was him who was involving her. 

A few minutes passed by and they finally reached the hotel. Entering the lobby the warmth welcomed them in and she smiled. 

“On which floor are you?” Duff asked.

“Fourth.” She started to take the jacket off. 

“I’m on the sixth.” 

“Yeah, I know.” She smiled. “Thanks for the jacket, Duff.”

“It’s ok.”

They stopped for a second, looking at each other almost as if they were in trance. 

Duff put a lock of her hair behind her ear and licked his lips.

“Y/N.” Tom’s voice cut the atmosphere, making her jump slightly and look in his direction. “Are you coming?” He pointed to the elevator.

“Yeah, just a sec.” 

Looking at Duff again, she gave him a small smile. “Good night, Duff.”

He leaned down, lightly kissing her cheek. “Good night, Y/N.” 

Getting in her room she quickly changed into some comfy pajamas. She stopped in front of the bathroom mirror when brushing her teeth and soon realized that she was smiling.

Her face seemed to be tickling where his fingers had brushed ever so delicately over. And she could still feel the warmth of his lips against her skin.

“Oh, Y/N. You are so fucked now.” She said to herself, walking towards the bed and jumping on it. 

She laid there, but she couldn’t sleep, his face and voice filling her mind along with the memories of him playing onstage. 

Her hair, which had stayed inside the jacket during the walk to the hotel, was smelling like him.

She turned around, facing the illuminated building in front of the hotel while smiling.

Yes, she was fucked. But she was feeling so happy that she couldn’t even get mad at herself for feeling like this. 

[ghostsxagain]

//hey friends. looks like I needed the weekend away from my computer. I had no muse and focused on other hobbies and tasks (yesterday Jamie and I spent the day running errands and hanging out and it was really nice to unwind with him - he woke me up with Tim’s breakfast he got for us, it was a good day). today I have an in class essay to write from 6-9pm and have to go to the pharmacy but I would really like to try bringing muse back later if I can.

I still haven’t really come to a decision about work though I think I’m getting closer. my gut is telling me to put my two weeks in now. and to take a few weeks at minimum off of work. just focus on the end of semester, do my assignments and take care of my mental health. then I can apply for jobs and take it slow. my mom thinks I may need to take a few months off to recover but I’ll have to look into what my options are (maybe if I stay jobless I can get a bigger osap loan to help with rent during summer sessions? no idea). I just dont have the energy anymore. under the cut I’m going to post what happened saturday. it’s long so don’t feel inclined to read if ya don’t wanna. I just wanted to get it out there//

so r, my supervisor started at 7am. I started at 8am. we had three open shifts throughout the day, with an operator set to come it at 9am and another at 3pm, then the manager, k, at 4:30pm. pretty baren schedule. well, the 9am tells r that she isn’t coming in today, so it will literally just be the two of us all day. naturally we panic because we can’t handle calls alone! and what about our lunch breaks! only one person will be on? that’s not fair! so r calls k and asks her what to do. k says to contact two other operators that don’t work saturdays and ask them to come in.... okay, helpful. neither of them answers us.

so we do what we can. thankfully call volumes are pretty low. k comes in at 11 and bumps our breaks up and she covers them. she sends me a message saying something like “thank you for doing this today. can you take lunch at 12 instead?” and I ignored the first half of her message and just confirmed the lunch time because I’m mad at her.

I come back from lunch and all hell breaks loose. k left and wont be coming back until 2ish. so its just r and I again and o m g. we keep getting calls from one of our property management companies. the residents received a weird note about the parking passes and that their cars will get towed if they dont go to the office to update the passes or whatever but no one is at the office so everyone is standing outside in the cold so their cars dont get towed. we took one disgruntled call and notified the property manager right away, as per our instructions. well, the calls wouldn’t stop. over and over residents called screaming at us. we have a queue of 5-8 calls for an hour, they won’t stop. after so many people yelling I snapped and just started bawling. I messaged r that I need a breather to take my medication so I leave for a few minutes. she apologizes and tells me to take my time. by the time I come back it seems to have quieted down.

then k comes in and she messages me another thank you message and I couldn’t handle it. I told her that this isnt easy or fair and this past week has drained me and I can’t continue working under these conditions. she apologized for the girl calling in sick, said she didn’t know that would happen, and that she tries to get people to come in. I said that my point is bigger than just today though, we’ve been understaffed for ages and haven’t brought anyone new on. we had three open shifts before she called in sick - thats a problem man. she said that she has the board outside (basically a wooden standup in the plaza the office is in that advertises that we’re hiring) and hasn’t found anyone yet. I got mad and said ‘look, I don’t think the board is sufficient. do you have an ad on indeed or kijiji? I referred someone to you and you passed on her, as have other ladies here. something more needs to be done.’ well she didn’t like that. she called me right away and was extremely defensive and was literally crying. she said that people hired need to work in the office for 3 months to see that they’re a good fit and that’s why she didn’t take on my referral (my sister who lives out of city, but its remote work so why does that matter BUT OKAY) and I said ‘K, I’m not attacking you. you can train however you like, I’m just bringing it up to say that us as operators have tried to help you with hiring and even that isn’t enough.’ she said that its been so hard and she’s doing all she can and blah blah blah. I told her frankly it isn’t enough. I shouldn’t have to be thanked for working BARE BONES shifts. I shouldn’t have to take 40 calls in one hour like I did last week. I told her I’m tired and have nothing else to give and that I’m being honest with her. she knows I’m a student, she knows I have depression and anxiety issues. yet she’s going to cry to me about how hard things have been???????? she didn’t want to talk or acknowledge my feelings, all she said back was “I guess I have to try harder” and I said YUPP and hung up. she immediately went on DND and didn’t take calls until I was about to leave for the day. 

so yeah I’m done. a manager that has been with the company LONGER THAN I HAVE BEEN ALIVE can’t take suggestions? complaints? concerns? can’t just listen to her employee without taking it personally? hm. yikes. I wrote my resignation letter and am just debating how I want to go about this. I’ve been with the company for 5 years. I can’t take it anymore. the callers are tough already, now my boss has to pile on and not hire. I shouldn’t have to be thanked for dealing with this shit - just don’t put me in these positions!!!!

[vicctm]

hey look, it’s victor donavon! they’re thirty eight years old, they’ve lived in shrike heights for 2 years, and they’re currently working as the hr director. i heard they’re pretty uncompromising, but i think they’re so passionate at the same time. can they make it out alive?

Biography

{TW: Violence, parental death, alcoholism, marijuana}

Victor Donavon, born in 1949, date unknown, in California. Adopted first son of Bernard and Carol Donavon, a wealthy couple in love. For the first 12 years of his life, Victor was the apple of his parents eyes. A genius when it came to academics and numbers, he received praise both in school and from family for his intellect. He got anything he wanted, and every summer was a trip somewhere new. Was he spoiled? Perhaps a bit, but who wouldn’t spoil their only child if they could

Everything came crashing down with the birth of his brother Jerimiah when he was 12 years old. Suddenly he wasn’t his parents pride and joy anymore, he felt more like an after thought than anything else after a few years. Nothing he did seemed to phase them, whether it was good or bad, he’d get a wave of the hand and some cash to solve his troubles. He was obsolete, an old model they didn’t need anymore. He graduated top of his class, and the only person that was their was his grandmother. Jeremiah did give him an adorable macaroni art piece of the two of them though, which he still has.

He moves to New York for college, business and management classes, anything to get away from a house where he felt like an outsider with everyone but a kid. He learns about himself, and falls in love with a boy he meets in a street. His name is Hugh and he convinces Victor to start writing like he’s always wanted to. Victor is close to confessing his love for him nearing his 20th birthday when he gets a call that changes his life. His short lived freedom is just that, short lived, as he receives news of his parents death. Parents he hasn’t talked to or heard from in almost two years.

He returns home hollow, and sorts out the affairs of his parents estate in a daze. He puts half of it in a trust for Jerimiah. He doesn’t even touch his half for over a decade. He doesn’t return to New York, he’s a different person now and he’s got Jerimiah to take care of. They settle down in Seattle, and develop a new normal. All Victor does is work and raise Jerimiah, dreams of writing gone and repressed along with memories of Hugh. But it’s okay with him because Jerimiah needs to him more than Victor needs a break. He starts to spiral due to stress, and gets meaner due to it. Him and Jerimiah are constantly at each others throats. It takes Jerimiah crying and shoving him into a table, only 17 years old, threatening to leave and never come back for him to get the help he needs, to deal with what happened to their family. 

Jerimiah moves to go to medical school, it’s hard for both of them, having relied on each other for so long. Victor is 35 years old and has no friends and no life and hasn’t ever done anything for himself in over 15 years, and he stands at the airport where Jerimiah just left for Massachusetts. He remembers standing at the airport in New York in the middle of the night, and then he remembers Hugh and the two years they spent creating together. He realizes he could write now, if it wasn’t too late then it couldn’t be too late now. 

He’s in Shrike Height’s half a year later, an apartment just for himself in a quiet town that can give him solace to write. He still works, wouldn’t be able to function without the ritual of it. At first for a warehouse and distribution center, but he only makes one friend there, who hates it as much as he does. Through them, he learns that Shrike Mall is hiring for their own HR department soon, and decides that a mall would be much more interesting than a paper company. He’s got 13 years of experience, and lands the job easily. 

Personality:

Victor is very rigid with most people, though that's really because he’s never taken the time to socialize before. He always took his job in HR so seriously he wouldn’t even mention he had a brother to coworkers in the past. However, he’s since mellowed out and has been attempting to be better about this. He’s a great conversationalist once he becomes comfortable with someone. 

Once you get to know him he’s very caring, and his love language is physical touch. He doesn’t care about people he isn’t close to, at all. Though he’s a bit touch starved because the only person he’s been close with recently was his brother, and a few short lived flings back in Seattle. He also has a tendency towards buying things for people he likes, and passing it off as though he just had to get rid of it. 

Once he decides something it’s very rare that he changes his mind. He never thought twice about taking in his brother, and he trusts in his own judgement more than he cares to consider anyone else’s opinion on his life, or things he has control over.

Has a well hidden sweet tooth, but would deny it to his grave.

Likes to smoke weed on occasion, especially if he’s having writers block or just wants to relax and wine isn’t cutting it. 

Victors all time favorite genre to both read and write is horror, and while he came to Shrike Heights to get inspiration to write his first book, he never expected this. He’s an observer at heart, and is more intrigued by the reason and motive of the killers and why it’s all happening at once at the moment, than he is with the deadly consequences.

Wants to fall in love and is a romantic deep down, but doesn’t know if he should open himself up like that in Shrike Heights because he isn’t sure he’ll remain living here longer than a few years. He is still on the fence, and deciding how much he likes Shrike Heights and its antics. 

Is becoming more and more susceptible to peer pressure because he is in fact very lonely

Connections!

Apartment neighbors/floormates

Fwb: Someone he would’ve met before getting the HR job, at a bar within his first few months of coming into town. This is so we could maybe have some drama of the fact that he’s in the HR dept for the mall now and they also work there, which is something he wouldve written someone else up a few years ago

Smoke buddies

down to spit ball as well :)

[beck-a-leck]

Kissing prompt! Shamelessly asking for #14 Cliff x Claire! 😌

I live to answer shameless prompts!

Send me a Smooch Prompt and a couple characters for all your self-indulgent needs!

#14 - A kiss so desperate that the two wind around each other, refusing to let go until they're finished.

Featuring Cliff and Claire, and just the teeniest bit of angst and sadness to really make the desperation stick.

Cliff packed slowly. He didn't want to leave the inn, didn't want to leave Mineral Town, didn't want to leave his friends, and perhaps most desperately, he didn't want to leave Claire. But there was nothing to be done for it. He had no money. There was no work to be found in town. Doug had already given him as much of a break on rent as he could afford, and Cliff had relied on Claire to feed him for most of a season now. He hated how much he had to rely on the kindness of others, how much he took that he could never pay back. He had become a burden, and he couldn't stand that.

As much as he did not want to leave Mineral Town, a place that had begun to feel more like home in the last year than any place had for such a long time, Cliff had to go. He had to find a job, and there were absolutely none to be found. He'd thought something might have come up last autumn at the winery, Duke had hired him and another guy to be the manual laborers during the harvest, but at the end of it all, Michael had been offered the chance to stay on full time. Michael had gotten along with Duke like a house on fire, they laughed and joked like they were old friends, even though Michael had only rolled into town one one of the last boats of the summer.

Winter was coming to its close, Cliff had spent a year here, and the last six months truly visualizing Mineral Town as home, as the place he would grow old in with the woman he loved. Maybe even one day, have a family again.

But those dreams had dwindled as rapidly as his funds.

This wouldn't be goodbye forever, Cliff and Claire had had a very long discussion about this, about his leaving, and their future together. If he was lucky, he'd find work somewhere else, he could start earning money, and saving money, building skills that he could some day bring back to Mineral Town and then maybe, in a year or two, he could come back.

But... it was a heavy Maybe. Maybe Cliff would never be able to go back to Mineral Town. Maybe his travels for a job took him too far away. Maybe Claire would fall in love with someone else in his absence, someone who could always be here for her, who wouldn't leave.

Cliff shoved the last few items into his bag and zipped it closed. He slung the pack over his shoulder and turned towards the door. His eyes fell on the room's other occupant.

"I'm gonna miss you, man," Gray said, trying and failing to keep the emotion from his voice. "You sure you don't want anyone to go with you down to the pier?"

"No," Cliff said quietly, "That's okay, I'd rather go alone. I've said my goodbyes."

"Yeah, well, you've got one more." Gray offered his hand. Cliff took it, and they shook for a moment, before the two of them, with a wet chuckle, pulled into a hug. "Won't be the same here without you." Gray thumped him on the back before letting go.

Without another word, Cliff hitched his pack up over his shoulders, and walked out of the room he'd called home for the last year. Ann was sweeping the stairs, and she gave him a tight hug as he passed. Down at the bar, Doug shook his hand firmly and sent him off with a "Good luck, son."

It was snowing, and a bitter cold wind was tearing at Mineral Town. Nobody else was out in the streets, or in the square. With every step Cliff took towards the beach, his heart sunk. Claire wouldn't be here. he had specifically asked her to not see him off like this. They'd said their goodbyes last night, and he, quite frankly, wasn't certain he could get on the ferry if she was there with him.

Snow and sand crunched beneath his feet as he crossed the beach to the pier. He perched gingerly on the icy bench and watched the distant shape of the ferry grow closer on the roiling gray sea.

He shivered and pulled his coat tight around him - Claire's Starry night present to him - it was warm and sturdy. He'd get many good years of use out of it. Wearing it was like walking around in her embrace.

The ferry was almost there when another body settled on the bench next to Cliff.

"Hey," Michael said with a slight smile, he was always smiling. No wonder Duke had asked him to stay on at the winery with a sunny attitude like that. "Cold enough, huh?"

"Yeah..." Cliff didn't feel much like talking. And as much as he didn't want to resent Michael, because the man hadn't done anything to him personally, there was a mean corner of him mind that kind of hated the guy for taking his chance to stay in Mineral Town forever.

Michael was carrying a duffel bag, stuffed full, it looked. Cliff nodded towards it, "You taking a trip to the city?"

Michael shrugged. "For starters, yeah. Spend New Year's partying it up, from there, who knows where I'll go. Maybe spend the rest of the winter somewhere warm."

That didn't make any sense.

"But what about your job? The Winery? I know winter is a slow season, but surely Duke and Manna need your help still. They're letting you take a vacation that long?"

"Vacation?" Michael laughed. "Nah, bud, I quit the winery, like a couple days ago. Small town living is quaint and all, and nice for a little while, but I don't want to be in a little backwater hole like this for the rest of my life, you know." He grinned and nudged Cliff. "I mean, you're leaving too for brighter futures and greener pastures, right?"

Cliff's hands curled into fists. he'd never truly disliked Michael before, but right now he really wanted to hit that flippant, smug, carefree grin right off his face. Just to be certain he wasn't having some vivid hallucination, Cliff asked again. "You quit the winery?"

"Yeah." Michael shrugged. "I was gonna wait til after New Year's but honestly I can't even bear the thought of spending the holiday in this tiny town. I doubt there would even be a party, everyone would probably be in bed by nine." He scoffed. "Probably wouldn't even get a New Year's kiss. None of the girls here are even all that cute, and they're so old fashioned. You basically have to propose before they'll even let you hold hands."

Cliff stared at Michael dumbfounded. His mind raced with possibility. Maybe he could go back to the winery and ask for a job, but Duke had already rejected him once this year, what's to say they still won't want him. But he had to try, right? Worst they could say was 'no' and he would just have to catch the ferry tomorrow. Best case - he couldn't even think of the best case scenario in case he jinxed the whole thing. Anything for a chance. that' what he had promised Claire. He would do any job, try anything if it meant coming back to her sooner.

Cliff snapped out of it as the ferry pulled close to the pier, blowing its whistle to call any stragglers to hurry and catch their ride.

Someone was shouting his name. Michael nudged him. “Hey, isn’t that your girlfriend?”

Cliff turned and saw Claire standing on the steps at the top of the beach. She cupped her hands around her mouth and called, “CLIFF! WAIT!”

“I thought you dumped her,” Michael said with a dint of disdain. “She was certainly mopey about it when I saw her earlier when I was getting my last paycheck.” He scoffed again. “Kinda pathetic, ain’t she? Just a little too desperate, huh?”

Once again, Cliff was seized with the overwhelming urge to deck Michael. But he didn’t. He got to his feet and turned away from Michael and the docking ferry.

“Hey, where’re you going? The boat’s right here. They won’t wait for you.”

“I don’t care. I’ll catch the next one if I have to.” Cliff didn’t spare Michael another thought or a second glance. He took off running towards Claire. She took off running towards him too. The met in the middle of the beach and crashed into each other, throwing their arms around the other and holding on tight.

“Don’t go!” Claire gasped, taking his face in her cold hands. “Don’t go yet. Please. I-I think I found you a job. At the winery.”

“I know. Michael’s leaving.”

A smile broke out over Claire’s lips as she realized, as they both realized, Cliff might not have to leave. There might be a chance for him to stay in town. Maybe he wouldn’t have to go.

She pulled his face towards hers, drawing him into a fierce kiss. Their lips crashed against teeth, but neither pulled away. Cliff kissed her, letting all of the hope bubble up in his chest and drive him desperately forward. Claire let got of his face and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her held her close, as close as possible. He ignored the fear that maybe Duke and Manna still wouldn’t want him, maybe the winery didn’t really need an extra set of hands. Maybe he was just prolonging the inevitable and he would still have to leave Claire.

He held Claire close and kissed her as snow collected in their hair, and their fingers went numb in the cold, until finally, panting slightly for breath they broke the kiss. Cliff rested his forehead against Claire’s, he looked down at their intertwined hands before closing his eyes. In his heart he made a wish, he said a prayer.

I wish… Maybe… Please…

“I should probably go talk to Duke and Manna, huh?”

[goalieprotectionsquad]

so i’ve watched like three straight days of maine cabin masters and my idiot ass is thinking of the harringtons having a cute little cabin on a lake in maine where they went every summer as a family before his dad started making bank and didn’t have the time anymore.

it’s been seventeen years since steve’s been up there. he doesn’t live at home anymore. he has a job that doesn’t really make him happy, but doesn’t really make him miserable, either. he has plenty of savings from the government coverup but doesn’t have anywhere to go with it. nothing to spend it on. the kids get older. they leave for college. he’s in his mid-twenties and complacent and isn’t all that motivated to change anything.

he gets dinner with his parents when they’re in town in the spring. his mom is talking about a lodge they stayed in when they visited basque country over christmas and he suddenly remembers the cabin. he waits until his mom is done relaying unimportant details like the color of the drape tassels to ask his dad if they still have the cabin in maine, and it’s evident on his face that he’d forgotten about it, too. he looks sort of wistful for a moment but it passes quickly. yeah, they still own it. no, nobody’s been up there in a while. steve doesn’t really think before he’s saying, “can I take a trip up there?”

his parents stare at him for a second like they’re surprised he’s actually interested in doing something, which. not unfair. his dad can’t remember where he put the keys but gives steve the address and tells him to find a locksmith who can get him inside. (steve plans on elbowing through a window or something to save on time and the hassle).

he subleases his apartment and leaves. everyone he likes is either away at school or just. away. moving on with their lives. he doesn’t have anyone to say goodbye to beyond telling his boss he’s quitting.

it takes a while to get up there, but he does, eventually. the cabin is hard to find and it looks so bad on the outside that steve has to triple check the address on the adjacent cabins to make sure it’s the right place. he thinks it’s maybe not just him who hasn’t been here in almost twenty years.

he stays in a hotel and gets up early to meet the contractor. she looks like she’s holding in a laugh when she introduces herself as kali. “look,” she says. “I’m going to be straight with you. this place is literally falling apart.”

steve doesn’t know what to say so he says, “yeah.”

“we can do a walkthrough,” she continues, “but I guarantee that this is going to make your budget look like pocket change.”

steve doesn’t really want to say it’s his dad’s money, so he shrugs and says, “let’s do it,” and watches her pick the lock.

the foundation is rotted out. the floor is rotted out. the porch is rotted out. she points at things and says any variety of that has to go or we’d start by taking that out or when was the last time you were up here again? they need to hire a plumber and a landscaper and an electrician and probably an exterminator, too, and kali doesn’t say anything when she watches him write a check for half the amount she quotes. she gives him a calculating look with kohl-rimmed eyes and says, “all right. we’ll be here tomorrow morning.”

steve shows up at seven because he doesn’t have anything better to do and there’s already a truck parked outside. a tall guy with a beanie shoved low over his forehead is tearing the porch off the front of the house and steve goes over to him and tries not to get hit with any falling debris.

“hi,” he says and has to stand there a minute before the guy looks at him. “I’m steve. is kali around?”

she’s inside the cabin and is leaning over the sink when steve walks in. she yells no. no. no. out the open window to her right as the water continues to run and then yes that’s it we got it as it cuts off abruptly. she looks unsurprised when she turns around and sees him standing in the doorway.

“hi,” he says again. “I’m here to help.”

“you’re paying us to do this for you, you know,” she says, but something in her face makes steve feel like she gets it.

a guy with his hair pulled into a tight bun at the nape of his neck hoists himself through the front door from where the porch used to be. “hey,” he says, all silk, when he sees steve.

“billy, this is steve harrington. the homeowner.” she stresses the word enough that steve literally cannot not notice the emphasis. billy rolls his eyes and shakes steve’s hand. it’s rough with calluses and steve would be stupid not to think about what that would feel like on his skin.

“billy hargrove,” he says. “head carpenter.”

“steve’s here to help with demo,” kali says. 

“well,” billy says. he gives steve one of the most obvious once-overs he’s ever seen. “welcome aboard. you’re gonna help me knock down these interior walls, pretty boy. heads up, though. you might break a nail.”

billy shows him how to use a stud finder and how to cut into the walls to make sure there aren’t any loose wires running through it and then he fucking kicks the wall in and gives steve a wild grin as the drywall dust settles into his blond hair.

steve comes back every day to see billy. he doesn’t even bother lying to himself. billy is funny and sharp and always seems to have a comeback for anything anyone ever says. he shows steve how to build things. stands at his shoulder and watches him use the staple gun on the trim. brings him lunch when he goes out to get food for the rest of the crew.

he tells steve that his mom sent him to live with a friend who had moved from san diego to bangor a few years before. his parents split and she didn’t want him living with his dad. he says susan is a little ditzy but she means well, and she didn’t give up on him during his rougher years in high school even though he isn’t even her kid. he calls her daughter my sister and gets a pinched expression on his face when he talks about how she’s been going through her teenage angst since she was eight and how they’re still figuring out how to not always be at each other’s throats.

it takes a month for them to take out the rotted lumber and to fix the foundation and floor and porch and roof. billy shows steve the crumbly mess in the insulation that means he has an ant infestation. steve helps make the framing for the bathroom and bedroom walls and helps lay the stones for the walkway down to the lake. he spends all day at the work site, then he goes back to the hotel, has dinner, crashes. rinse and repeat. he spends the days the crew isn’t working exploring sort of idly and missing the smell of sawdust. 

when kali declares the place habitable, he buys a mattress and drops it onto the floor of the master bedroom, which is still missing its walls. he checks out of the hotel and buys some groceries and spends his evenings down at the lake, his own private little waterfront. he tries reading but the only salvageable book in the cabin is walden and he can’t make it past the first page.

he hears axel and mick talking about a meteor shower one night. once the crew is gone and the sky is turning purple-navy, he goes down to the lake and lays back to look at the stars. they’re brighter out here, brighter than hawkins, somehow, and the sky feels endless.

he turns to look over his shoulder when he hears footsteps crunching through the undergrowth in his direction. “just me,” billy calls through the dark. he drops down heavily next to steve and passes over a beer and a hamburger wrapped in greasy foil. casual, like they do this all the time. his hair is down and curly and he’s wearing a red shirt unbuttoned to his navel, where it’s tucked into his jeans. he’s wearing cologne, too, and billy smiles when he sees it get steve’s attention.

they talk and they sit in comfortable silence and then they talk again. billy seems to be getting closer and closer until their shoulders and thighs are pressed together and their elbows are knocking. when billy turns to look at him, their noses almost brush, and steve knows billy doesn’t miss the way his eyes drop to his mouth.

“have you swam in the lake yet?” he asks instead and gives steve a wicked smile when he shakes his head, and then he’s up and stripping down and is in the water, wet hair slicked back over his head, before steve’s brain has even puttered beyond looking at billy’s mouth. “come on it, pretty boy! water’s fine.”

he unabashedly watches steve undress and reaches for him immediately once he’s in the water. no preamble. just. puts a hand on his hip. when steve doesn’t move back, he slips an arm around steve’s waist, and then the other. their knees bump under the water and billy noses at steve’s cheek. kisses him on the chin and the corner of his mouth before he kisses his bottom lip. they kiss and kiss, the water not even up to their collarbones, and steve has never been so aware of the night noises around them. cicadas in the trees. a loon some ways away. something shrieks in the distance and it startles steve enough that he stumbles in billy’s grip, and billy tightens his hold and tilts his chin closer again and whispers, “it’s just a fisher cat,” into the crease of his lips.

they start heading back to the cabin before billy makes them double back for the food wrappers and beer bottles and steve grabs their clothes so he has something to do with his hands. he’s never run naked through the trees before but there’s something freeing about it. for some reason, the trees out here don’t look as threatening as the ones in hawkins. maybe they’re older, wiser. maybe they’ve seen more and know how to protect him and billy from whatever else is out there.

steve clears away the painting tarp over the bed and barely has it on the ground before billy is crowding against him, skin dry but hair dripping at the ends over his freckled shoulders. they lose track of time in a cabin they rebuilt together.

billy’s hand on his chest is what wakes him up. the sun is filtering in through the windows and billy is trying to press a mug of coffee into his hands. steve doesn’t own mugs or coffee or a coffee maker out here. steve sits up and leans against the wall, right where they’ve sketched out the custom headboard billy’s going to help him carve, and lets the blanket pool around him in a way that has billy’s gaze dropping, the apples of his cheeks going a little pink. he looks good in the morning sun, in the little bits of dust floating through the air. 

“where’d you find the coffee maker?” steve asks. “and the change of clothes?”

billy gives him a big shark smile but sounds a little sheepish when he says, “I was hedging my bets on needing morning provisions.”

steve makes them eggs and bacon and toast and they sit out on the new front porch to eat and wait for the rest of the team to show up. billy keeps leaning in to kiss his ear, the hinge of his jaw, the side of his neck. just pecks. they still set steve on fire.

billy stays that night, and the next, and the next, and the next. they go swimming for real, eventually, and play cards, and fall asleep outside in the grass with their fingers twisted together. out in the open as much as in their own little world.

kali knows something is going on between them, even if steve doesn’t know if billy told her or she figured it out herself. when it’s just the three of them in a room, billy likes to pitch his voice down, low enough to be husky, but loud enough to be overheard, and gives steve directions more gutturally than usual. pull out a little, he’ll say, all breathless, when they’re fitting the doorframes. now push it back in. harder. mm, yeah, steve. right there. steve doesn’t know if it’s meant to be embarrassing or not but he laughs himself red in the face anyway.

they finish the cabin over the next six weeks. if steve hadn’t been there every day for almost three months, he might have thought he’d gotten the address wrong. it looks like a house, first of all. the outside is a soft brown to blend into the trees. there’s a little living room with a couch and a little table with two artfully mismatched chairs in the kitchen. there’s a huge window in the master bedroom overlooking the lake. steve has never really felt drawn to the water as a non-great-lakes-midwestern kid, but every time he looks out over the lake, he wonders if he even wants to go back to hawkins.

it feels weird giving kali the second half of the payment, knowing he won’t see her again. he hugs her and she pats him awkwardly on the elbows until he lets go. one by one, the rest of the team leaves, and it’s not until steve’s standing alone in the fading sunlight that he realizes that billy’s gone, too.

it’s the first time billy’s just left without saying anything about where he was going and when he was coming back. that deep, dark part of steve says they were just fooling around during the job, but he drinks a beer and talks himself out of panicking. he makes himself a sandwich. lays in the bed. showers. doesn’t really know what to do with himself now that the job is done and billy is gone.

he’s laying on the couch and staring up at the ceiling when the sound of a key scraping in the lock has him on his feet on instinct to do -- something, he didn’t really think that far ahead -- but then the door wedges open and billy’s head appears around it.

“sorry,” he says when he sees steve still gaping. “didn’t mean to scare you. we just -- kali forgot to give you back your spare.”

steve watches him reach out and hang the key ring around the hook next to the door. it overlaps steve’s set.

“oh,” steve says. “thanks.”

billy gives him a little smile and looks like he’s going to leave, but then they’re both saying wait in the same moment and billy’s smile reappears around the door, wide but shy.

“stay,” steve says.

billy slides the rest of the way past the door. he has a small duffle thrown over the shoulder steve couldn’t see behind the door and he’s holding a bottle of cheap grocery store champagne.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” billy says. now that steve’s shown his hand, it’s  like billy’s found his footing again. he drops his bag and goes over to the cabinet to pull out two mugs, sets them on the counter. he wraps an arm around steve where’s he’s drifted over without really meaning to. billy kisses the corner of his mouth and presses the bottle into his hands. the foil is already peeled off the cork. “I heard you’re celebrating a housewarming. you wanna do the honors?”

[holy-honeybees]

Snowdrift

AO3

Rating: T+ (for swearing)

Summary: Three friends and  their dog get lost in a snowstorm while investigating the paranormal. Amidst swirling flurries of white, some lose their way and get lost in their memories, others lose sight of their friends and loved ones, and an unforgiving winter quickly fills in the footprints one would follow to get back home.

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Chapter One

Chapter Eight

Arthur struggled through the ever-deepening snowdrifts, hunched over as he braced himself against the wind. The fingers on his right hand were already frozen and stiff, and the metal of his prosthetic was so cold it burned where it met the remaining flesh of his arm. He cursed his stupidity for having gone outside in a blizzard with no coat or hoodie. Even with his vest zipped up and his hands tucked under his armpits, he shivered so hard the mechanic felt he might shake apart at any moment. Arthur wondered just what had prompted him to leave the safety of the van without proper protection from the cold. He’d like to think he had some self-preservation skills, though his recent actions had done little to support that claim, and he was sure Vivi at the very least would outright challenge the statement.

I have to find Mystery, he reminded himself. He couldn’t remember why it was so urgent that he find the kitsune though, only that it was. He’d long ago lost sight of the white shape in front of him, and Arthur had to wonder if he was even going in the right direction anymore. Still, he pushed onwards, compelled to keep moving forwards even if he didn’t understand why.

I have to find Mystery. The phrase had become a mantra he repeated with every step, a reminder of his single-minded purpose. Between the wind shrieking in his ears and the constant chattering of his teeth, he could hardly put together a cohesive thought outside of trying to locate his friend. He knew he should try harder to figure out what was happening and why he was out here, but he was so tired, and the cold was mind-numbing.

I have to find Mystery. Something nagged at the back of his mind that besides being hopelessly lost and half-frozen, something else wasn’t right. Some unnamed threat which loomed in the darkness. He just couldn’t recognize what it was. The temperature outside plummeted even further, and a particularly icy blast of air seemed to freeze him to the very core. Arthur shivered, not just due to the bitter cold, but from memories he’d buried long ago as they began to resurface.

---

It had been a long drive to reach Uncle Lance’s home in Tempo, and the hours spent under the summer sun had caused the temperature inside the car to climb to an almost unbearable degree. His dad had told him that rolling down the windows was just as good as running the air conditioning, but Arthur was unconvinced. He was beginning to suspect that Uncle Lance didn’t call the old station wagon his father drove “lemon” just because of its bright yellow paint. For the first half of their trip, Arthur had done his best to distract himself from the heat by playing with his Game Boy Color, and after its batteries had died, he’d resorted to trying to keep cool by letting the wind blow through his hair, his arm dangling out the open window. At least, up until his father had laughed and said that was a good way to lose a limb. Arthur had promptly yanked his arm back inside the car and, despite the sweltering Texas heat and his dad assuring him he’d only been joking, rolled up the window for good measure. By the end of the journey, they were both covered in sweat and even his dad’s sunny disposition had begun to waver.

As the door to his uncle’s home swung inward, the blast of cool air that washed over him made Arthur shiver in relief. Lance usually accepted his brother’s unannounced visits with practiced ease, welcoming them in with a rough “get in here before you let the cool air out” and strong-armed, back-slapping hugs. They would come by when his dad was between gigs as a roadie sometimes or when the car needed repairs. This particular visit felt different though. There were no bone-breaking, lift-you-off-the-ground hugs between the two brothers, no boisterous laughter as they greeted each other. Instead, Lance had merely met them both with a dark, raised eyebrow, the stout man nearly eyelevel with his scrawny, preteen nephew. Maybe it was because it was so hot out and they were both sweaty, or maybe they’d come at a bad time. Either way, the tense situation made Arthur shift uncomfortably, the added weight of his heavy backpack threatening to throw him off balance. They must be staying for a while this time. Arthur had almost everything he owned crammed into the old bag he lugged around, the zippers threatening to burst under the strain. As usual, his dad hadn’t done any packing of his own, and would probably end up heading out to the car half a dozen times throughout the night to grab various items, Uncle Lance grumbling good-naturedly the whole time.

“Hey, buddy,” his dad said, ruffling his hair, “Me and your uncle are going to go check out the car, take a look under the hood. Why don’t you go get settled in? We can order some pizza for dinner later.” Arthur meekly nodded his head and shuffled past his uncle in the doorway, eager to escape the tense atmosphere that no one was acknowledging. The old mechanic twitched his lips up into a brief smile as Arthur passed, which the young boy nervously returned. His uncle’s serious, gruff nature was intimidating at times. When Arthur had first met the taciturn man, he worried that Uncle Lance didn’t like him. His dad had laughed off his concerns though and told him that’s just how Lance was, and without kids of his own, his uncle would simply need some time to get used to him.

Arthur passed through the familiar hallways of his uncle’s home until he reached the spare room he and his dad usually stayed in. Normally, it served as a kind of office or storage space for Uncle Lance’s business, with instruction manuals, receipts, and spare parts scattered amongst a few personal items. There was an old wrestling belt and a framed picture of Arthur and his father on the wall above the sleeper sofa they used. The bed was already folded out and made up with clean sheets and pillows, and Arthur wondered if their spontaneous visit had truly been unexpected. His dad had announced their trip a couple of days ago, and they’d been on the road driving to their destination ever since. Arthur had gone out to get some ice for their motel room and come back to see his father deep in conversation on the old telephone the room came with. Arthur didn’t think he’d ever seen his dad so serious. His father had cutoff midsentence once he’d spotted Arthur, looking inexplicably guilty before saying a hurried goodbye to whoever was on the other line. The young boy could only make out the speaker’s agitated tone of voice, distorted by the crummy receiver, before his dad hung up the phone. With his father’s usual smile plastered back on his face, everything seemed to have returned to normal, and Arthur was told to pack his things because they would be leaving first thing in the morning to visit his uncle.

Now that they had arrived, Arthur couldn’t help but feel like something was wrong, like he was missing something. Some vital clue he should have picked up on that would have helped him to make sense of what was going on around him. He shouldered his backpack off onto the bed, intent on starting to unpack his things. Instead, he only worried at the zippers, his thoughts too troubled to focus on the task at hand. He felt as if there was an answer right in front of him that he just couldn’t see. After several fruitless minutes, Arthur gave up on unpacking his bag and left to find his father and uncle. He wandered through his uncle’s home, searching for the two adults, before being drawn to the garage door by the sounds of an argument. Despite being nervous about being caught eavesdropping, Arthur pressed his ear to the door to listen.

“Just think about what yer doin’ for once, Percy,” Uncle Lance said in a low, dangerous voice.

“It’s just going to be for a little while,” Arthur’s father replied, his usual cheerful tone sounding strained.

“You an’ I both know that’s not true!”

“This latest gig will last a month or two, tops,” his dad said, and then, after the slightest of pauses, so small Arthur could almost convince himself he’d imagined it, “Then I’ll be back.”

“No,” Lance insisted stubbornly, “I know that look in yer eye, I seen it before. Saw it when my baby brother up an’ dropped out of high school, hit the road, an’ didn’t drop his family a line for a full year to even let us know he was alright!” Arthur’s dad sighed heavily.

“Look, Arthur’s starting to grow up, you know? The whole ‘on-the-road’ lifestyle isn’t really doin’ him any favors. He’s smart, but there’s only so much I can teach him. Kid doesn’t really have any friends, either. He could really benefit from going to school, meeting kids his age and getting a real education.”

“If this is really about his best interests, why don’t you stay here with him?” Lance pressed, “Settle down finally. Get a steady job in town. Hell, I’ll hire you.” The only response was silence.

“Yer not leaving Arthur here so he can ‘grow up’,” Lance growled, “Yer stickin’ me with yer kid so you don’t have to!”

“I don’t know what I’m doing! I didn’t plan on becoming a parent!” His father shouted angrily.

“You are one though, an’ yer not gonna figure this one out by runnin’ away from it!”

“I’m trying, okay? If it was just about keeping him fed or entertained or whatever, it’d be fine, but…he’s different. I thought he’d outgrow it, but that last show I worked, you know, with that rock band? He had one of his…fits halfway through the set. He kicked up such a fuss they had to stop the show and everything. The guys on stage were cool about it, but, well… Would do him some good to have someone like you help toughen him up.”

“Percy, I know you’ve got yerself convinced yer doing what’s best for him, but that’s not what it looks like from my perspective, and that certainly ain’t what it’s gonna look like from his. Of all the selfish, irresponsible—”

“I love my son!”

“I’m not the one yer gonna have to try an’ convince if you go through with this.”

The rest of the argument was lost to the ringing in his ears as Arthur quickly backed away from the garage. So there was something wrong. What was worse, it seemed like it had something to do with him. He retraced his steps to the spare room, his breath coming in progressively shorter gasps. He’d had episodes like this before. “Fits”, his dad called them. It happened from time to time at the concerts his father worked, like when the music was too loud or there were too many strangers crowded around him, though those hadn’t been the only incidents. One time had left him feeling so dizzy and lightheaded afterwards, his dad had taken him to an emergency room. The doctor who had given him a checkup had called it a “panic attack”, suggesting they reach out to a specialist to talk. He never got the chance though, their transient lifestyle requiring them to leave town the very next day. His dad tried his best to help, telling him to relax and dismissing his fears as silly, but Arthur just couldn’t do the same.

With his heart trying to pound its way out of his chest, Arthur closed the door to the spare room behind him and promptly dumped out the contents of his backpack onto the bed, frantically searching for anything that might help calm him down. His eyes settled on his Game Boy and he snatched it off the bed before sitting down on the floor. With its batteries run down, he wouldn’t be able to distract himself by playing a game, but there was something comforting and familiar about holding the small dandelion-colored console nonetheless. He ran his thumb over the control pad—up, right, down, left—again and again. Gradually his breathing slowed, and the fuzzy edges receded from his vision. As if on cue, there was a knock at the door, and Uncle Lance entered the room, frowning as he did so.

“You alright, kid?” his uncle asked, “Yer lookin’ kinda pale.”

“Y-Yeah, just cool-cool-cool—” Arthur shook his head, trying to dislodge the word he’d gotten stuck on.

“Cooling off,” he finished lamely.

“…Alright. Well, pizza’s on its way. Should be here in about thirty minutes. Yer dad ordered the usual,” Lance said gruffly. Arthur gulped and nodded his head. His stomach felt as if it was twisted up in knots, and the thought of eating anything made him feel vaguely queasy. His uncle paused for a moment, as if to say something else, before giving up with a sigh and walking away.

The pizzas arrived right on time, and long before Arthur was ready. He, his dad, and his uncle all sat around the small kitchen table Lance owned, paper plates loaded up with hot, greasy pizza slices. His dad joked and laughed, smiling the whole time, as if nothing were wrong. Uncle Lance barely said a word, only letting out the occasional grunt, while Arthur nibbled half-heartedly at the pizza in front of him. They’d ordered the Meatzilla and Atomic Aloha, with extra pineapple and jalapeño peppers, Uncle Lance and his father’s favorite pizzas respectively. Normally, Arthur was happy to share with his Uncle Lance, the Atomic Aloha being too spicy for him to enjoy, but now the pizza he did force down sat heavily in his guts. When they’d all finished eating and Lance cleaned the paper plates and used napkins off the table, his dad had asked him to stay behind. His father told him that he had a new gig, but this time, Arthur was going to stay behind with Uncle Lance, just for a couple of months while he was gone. Arthur wanted to tell him not to go, but he simply nodded along, his thoughts muddled and his stomach churning unhappily.

His father left within the hour, assuring him that he would be back soon and that he loved him very much. He ruffled Arthur’s hair as walked out the door, leaving the young boy behind to sit on the couch with his uncle in the living room. Uncle Lance opened his mouth as if to speak several times, but always closed it with an uncertain look in his eye, the silence instead filled by reruns of old wrestling matches playing on the TV quietly. Eventually, Arthur excused himself, saying he was turning in for the night. He entered the spare room and flopped down on the bed, not even bothering to clear away the contents of his backpack he’d haphazardly dumped on top of the sheets. He curled up and cried, tossing and turning miserably as the pizza he’d eaten failed to settle in his stomach. The harder he cried, the worse he felt, and the sick feeling grew until Arthur had no choice but to rush to the bathroom at the end of the hall. He was still kneeling by the toilet, the cool tiles of the floor pressed against his hands and knees, when he felt a hesitant hand, rough and calloused, pat him on the back.

“It’s okay,” Uncle Lance said, “I’ve got you.”

---

Released from the grip of his memories, Arthur found himself kneeling in the snow. The cold seeped even deeper into his bones with his arms and legs sunk way down into the snowbank. The mechanic struggled back to his feet and scanned the horizon for his forgotten destination.

I have to find Mystery, Arthur reminded himself, tucking his arms tight against his body as he resumed his steadfast march. His breath fogged before him, looking like a silver mist that disappeared just as quickly as the memory had. He couldn’t even recall what it was he’d been thinking about despite the tears frozen on his face. Something about when he’d come to live with Uncle Lance. But hadn’t he always lived with his uncle? He just couldn’t remember. He pushed the doubts and confusion from his mind as he continued to trudge numbly through the snow.

I have to find Mystery.

He felt raw and weary, like an exposed nerve. Where were the others? Why had he been left behind? Abandonment had always been an issue for him, though he didn’t understand why. Uncle Lance had always been there for him. Still, whatever had caused that fear to take root was only exasperated after Lewis and Vivi had started dating.

I have to find…

It had been hard seeing them so happy together. It left Arthur with a complex mix of emotions where he was glad for his friends yet jealous at the same time, which gave way to shame for feeling so awful when he should have been excited and supportive. He was just waiting for the day they’d tell him they didn’t want him around or need him anymore. He’d been distancing himself slowly so that when the time came maybe, maybe it wouldn’t hurt quite so much. Instead, it just made him more miserable to see how happy his friends were without him. Then there was the cave.

I have to…

His weakness had let whatever that thing was take control of him. He could still only remember bits and pieces of what happened, even months later. Everything was hazy up to the point he woke up in a hospital bed without his arm, jumping out of his skin if Mystery so much as twitched an ear. Vivi was like a blank slate, and Lewis was missing.

I…I have to find Lewis.

Arthur watched as another thin stream of silver left his mouth, whirling away into the wind. He felt drained, his mind foggy. He must have found a lead to his missing best friend out here, wherever this was. Still, he’d wished he’d brought a coat or something. But if he could find his friend and bring him back, it’d be worth it, whatever it took. Arthur called out for Lewis as loudly as he could, the name broken into pieces by his stutter and chattering teeth. He had to be close by if he’d made the decision to leave Vivi and the van behind. Arthur kept shouting, his voice becoming hoarse as he sucked in deep lungfuls of frigid air, trying to be heard over the howling wind. A desperate sense of urgency fueled him, tinged with a guilt and remorse he couldn’t quite place, which nonetheless helped propel him onwards through the snow.

I have to find Lewis!

[cancerbiophd]

How I landed an industry job straight out of my life sciences PhD, without doing a post-doc 

In less than 7 weeks I’ll be defending my dissertation as a final step in my PhD in Cancer Biology, and yesterday I accepted a Scientist position at a local biotechnology company. And best part: I didn’t have to do the dreaded post-doc first! Which is pretty rare for our field (but I hope it’ll be more and more common for PhD’s going into industry).

I promised I would talk about the process here, and I hope that anyone who’s aiming for the same path can walk away with some tips or at least with a familiarity of the process. 

The main points I want to get across: 

Network network network. You can probably just stop reading here, because this job came about all through networking. I was basically head-hunted--someone in my network (a program alumnus) contacted me on LinkedIn to ask if I wanted to apply for a position on the team she directs. So set up your LinkedIn account, keep it up to date, and use it to actively network. At the very least you should connect with the alumni in your program as you all have something in common already, and since they’re out and about in the field they would be great resources for informational interviews and job referrals. 

My expertise and career goals matched the position. No brainer, of course. Even if I wasn’t contacted by the company, I would only be applying to companies I qualified for (so companies dealing with cancer since I’m my PhD is in Cancer Bio). My lab mate, for example, was finishing up his PhD in Nutritional Sciences but was applying to cancer companies with no result, because it just wasn’t the candidate those companies were looking for. My expertise was also probably what got that director’s attention in the first place and the reason she reached out. She was basically willing to wait 7 months for me (from job posting to my final start-date) because I was her ideal candidate, and not just based off my expertise alone, but our personalities matched too. She told me “we communicate well” aka our work personalities match. I know you can’t change who you are obviously, but getting along with your manager goes a long way. 

That being said, employers/PIs are flexible with start dates for PhD candidates. I applied to this position 6 months before I had my defense date set and when I only knew a ballpark of “sometime in the summer”. And then during my interview process I had to keep pushing that potential start-date back and back and back. But the company understood this. So as a PhD candidate you could start applying 6 months before your expected end-date (even if it’s still a moving target), or even months earlier for post-docs (which are much more flexible than industry positions). In general, you should start looking 1 year before your finish date to see what’s out there. 

It was also good luck/timing. If I had graduated earlier than the job posting, then I never would’ve had this opportunity. I also only added her to my LinkedIn network because I went to a lunch seminar where she gave a talk about working in industry. So small things that ultimately made a huge difference. Some you can’t control, but some (like going to that lunch) are definitely  opportunities to seize. 

I was low “flight risk”. Companies are always afraid their employees will leave the company/city for greener pastures, and that’s more common in “less popular” places to live, like the southwest desert where I’m located. But I’m from here, my grad school is here, my family’s here--so the company is making the assumption I’m not going to just up and go any time soon. You obviously can’t control where your family chooses to settle down, but you may be able to strategically choose your grad school based off of its proximity to potential companies. 

And lastly, in my experience, PhD’s with no post-doc in biotech industry should expect an annual salary somewhere between $75-95k (depending on the company and cost of living), with benefits.

Ok, my full story under cut if you’d like to know more about the process I went through:

It all started when a program alumnus (or alumna, if you’re picky about your latin) named RF talked at a lunch seminar to students in my program in Feb 2019. I was really interested in her company and knew she would be a great network to have, so I emailed her later to thank her, and then added her on LinkedIn. 

Fast forward to January of this year (2020) when RF messaged me on LinkedIn out of the blue asking me how close I was to graduating and if I would be interested in a position at her company. I think she wanted someone asap (so not me, I thought), but we talked more about my project, and she said she’d keep in touch. In February, she messaged me again saying a position opened up on her team and she wanted to see if I would like to apply. I said heck yes (or the more formal version), and sent in my application, with the expectation that I would be defending sometime in the summer. I also put her as my job referral and messaged her afterwards to let her know my application went through (with the hopes that maybe she could fast-track it through HR, which I think she did). 

In the meantime, I messaged (also on LinkedIn) another program alumnus I knew (our time overlapped a few years) who currently works with RF and we chatted on the phone about what he does at work, how he likes it there, etc. Basically an informational interview (and also to catch up as colleagues). I was also hoping he’d put in a good word for me with RF and can attest I’m a decent human being and all that. 

2 weeks later, I had a phone interview with RF, and I was super nervous going into it. I even practiced pages and pages of answers of common interview questions for a week straight. But to my surprise she opened the call with “I already know a lot about you from your CV, LinkedIn profile, and also your PhD training because we’re from the same program, so this is your chance to ask me questions!” And I was like, uhhhh awesome! The only thing she wanted to know about me was when I could start, and at that moment in time I was gunning for a July/Aug defense date. 

(I also emailed her and HR afterwards to ask them whether they could match my salary expectation, which I had researched well beforehand for what was common in the field for my position and experience, and they said they could.)

We then set up the next round of interviews for April with a colleague of RF’s who used to be in the same team but now directs her own, and RF’s boss (these would have normally been on-site, but I did them over the phone bc Covid). I again messaged my friend at the company asking if he had any tips. 

And then disaster struck! The company’s HR called me a week before those scheduled interviews to tell me the company had ordered a hiring freeze due to Covid and the effect it was having on the economy. Absolute bummer :( :( :(

So I then applied for a few more positions here and there, including some post-docs (which I really didn’t want to do). I got 2 rounds of interviews for a Scientist position at another local company, and as of today I still haven’t heard anything from them. oh well. 

Then in June I finally heard back from RF’s company saying the hiring freeze has been lifted and whether I’m still interested? Uh, heck yes! So we continued with those 2 phone interviews I had originally scheduled back in April. They both went really well. But I still continued to apply to other positions in the meantime because I wanted to have as many options as I could. 

Then 2 weeks ago (July 7) I got THE call: they wanted to offer me the position! :D

Only problem was, we needed to settle on a start-date. They of course wanted me to start like, yesterday, but my PI wanted to push back my original defense date of Aug 28 one more week to Sept 4, and also wanted me to focus on any dissertation edits for 2 weeks after that. So my earliest start-date would be Sept 21. If you remember, my defense date shifted from “sometime in the summer” to “July/August” to now September, so I was really worried the company wouldn’t accept this. I nervously waited 2 weeks for someone to call me back, and in my head I kept thinking, “I blew it I blew it”. I even sent in a job application to another company in that time. 

But RF finally called me and said hey, no problem, we can do that! She told me she was willing to wait because I really was her perfect candidate (I had all the experience she wanted, and she said we communicated well aka our work-personalities matched). She had also just recently hired another graduate from our program, who is also a friend of mine, so she knew we would all mesh together very nicely. 

And that’s the story folks! I’ll be starting the position remotely until it’s safe to return to the building again. They’re also working with my husband to see if he’s a good candidate for some of their other open positions (we’re both in the biotech field). We’re both super excited about this new chapter in our lives. 

All this because I attended the lunch seminar RF talked at all last year and then added her on LinkedIn. When people talk about opportunities lurking behind every corner, they really did mean that. 

[billyhargrove-imagines]

Kindred Outsiders: Pt. 1

Pairings: Billy Hargrove x OC

Warnings: Cursing

Word Count: 2374

A/N: Hello! This story was originally posted on my fanfiction.com account but I decided to bring it to tumblr as well :) Anyhow, this story is going to take place in the beginning of summer & will later lead up to the events starting in the beginning of season 3. Gif used isn’t mine. Enjoy!

-

Indiana is…different.

I moved out here merely two weeks ago from Los Angeles, California. My father died from a plane crash over a month ago. He was on his way home from a business trip. My mother, on the other hand, isn't in the picture because she passed away from cancer 5 years ago. I was 15 years old at the time.

I couldn't stand being alone in my father's mansion any longer. It just wasn't the same without him. It caused me nothing but pain having to enter a home where I am not greeted a simple 'hello' from my father. Dinners were always lonely so I ended up resorting to going out with friends almost every night for dinner, followed by drinking at home from my father's in-home bar.

When it came around to bedtime, I felt a pit in my stomach whenever I passed my father's office and didn't see the light shining under the crack of the door. He always worked in his office late.

One day I made a bold move by giving my aunt Joyce a call and moved in with her in Indiana a month after the incident. Aunt Joyce is my father's sister.

Her small house is nothing compared to mine and lacked the useless amenities I was used to. But I didn't care. Living here so far with her, Will and Jonathan was much better than living back in California all alone. Sure, I had friends but it doesn't compare to family.

Since I am an only child of my parents, I inherited all of their money. I also made a selfless decision and paid off my aunt's mortgage. When I told her the news, I was thanked with a slap across the face followed by a tight hug. She never wanted any handouts from my parents in the past and still doesn't til this day.

It is 1pm and I just clocked out for my short shift at this clothing store in the starcourt mall. Yes, I have a great amount of money in my bank account, but I still wanted to keep myself occupied by working a part time job. I didn't want to just sit on my ass all day. Especially since I still don't know what I want to do for my career. I am 20 years old and time is ticking, but I don't want to waste my time and money on schooling when I don't know what the hell I want to do yet.

After every shift I've been stopping by the ice cream shop, Scoops Ahoy and I always see the same duo, Steve and Robin. I've become quite acquainted with them and I learned so far that they're fresh out of high school.

"Let me guess, rocky road?" Steve said with a grin.

"You know me too well, Steve." I replied with a smile, stretching my arm out to hand him cash.

"God Steve. Just ask her out already." Robin added, rolling her eyes playfully and crossing her arms over her chest as she leaned against the back counter.

"Can you not?" Steve snapped his head at Robin, cheeks flushed red.

"Very funny, Robin." I let out a chuckle and waved goodbye to the duo as I licked my delicious ice cream on my way out.

As usual, I took my time walking through the mall. I wanted to make sure I finished my ice cream before I arrived to my car and headed home. A variety of families, couples and friends seemed to be enjoying their shopping trips. Though word on the news is that many local business owners are enraged about the mall being built due to losing business.

A familiar female voice snapped me out of my thoughts. "Hi Victoria!" Aria, my eccentric coworker greeted me, her shoulder-length blonde hair bouncing as she kept up to my steps.

"Hey Aria, I thought you're off today?" I asked, still enjoying my ice cream.

"Yeah I was just shopping around for a gift for my mom's birthday next week." She briefly lifted the shopping bag in her hand. "Did you just get off or are you on lunch?"

"Um, I just got off."

"Yay! I'm going to the pool after this. Join me so I'm not alone!" She suggested. "There's also this hot hot hot lifeguard they hired last week. I went to school with him!"

"Okay sure. But I'm not really into that."

"Come on, Victoria." Aria groaned. "I know you don't have any plans today."

"No I meant the hot lifeguard or whatever. Not into that." I gave a dismissive wave of my hand before taking a generous lick of my ice cream.

"Oh. You're into girls? So sorry. I didn't know."

I snorted in amusement, but internally I was rolling my eyes at her. She's always been quick to make assumptions.

"No no no. I like boys." I made known. "I just don't care to drool over a piece of meat. But I'm down to take a dip in the pool."

"Oh! Okay. Sorry. Sorry again."

"It's fine Aria," I dragged. "I'm gonna go home and change out of this and I'll meet you there."

"Yay! Okay bye!" Aria shouted with glee before going our separate ways. She sure can be annoyingly hyper sometimes, but she's the only real girlfriend I've made here so far. Robin is always working and when she is off, she's always busy doing god knows what.

Like clockwork, my ice cream was finished off before I made it outside to my car. Or should I say my late father's black 1984 Porsche 911. It's quite showy for someone who now lives in Indiana, but this car was my father's baby. I'm never letting go of this.

The Rubberband Man by The Spinners blasted on my stereo as I drove to Aunt Joyce's house. Music from the 70s has always stuck with me. On my face are my favorite pair of black aviator sunglasses.

After a moment of driving down the familiar roads, I pull into the front of my aunt's house. I take the keys out of the ignition, remove my aviators, hop out of my car and enter the non vacant home. "Hey Jonathan." I greeted my cousin who is watching television on the couch with a full plate and fork in his hands.

"Hey there, Vic. You're home early." He said with a full mouth. I hummed in response before scurrying to my bedroom.

I searched through my dresser drawers until I found the perfect bikini for my mood, which is a two piece. I paired my black cheeky bottoms with a neon green strapless top. After quickly peeling off my work attire and slipping into my bikini, I made sure to at least cover up my ass cheeks with denim shorts before throwing on a pair of sandals.

Now I am out the door, tossing my bag of pool essentials in the passenger seat and making sure not to forget my aviators. The sun is at its peak and I am ready to cool off.

Minutes later I pull into the parking lot of the community pool for the first time since moving down here. I've driven past it plenty of times but never had the need to go yet until Aria randomly invited me.

Exiting my car with my bag under my arm and my aviators on, I hear various sounds at a short distance of people enjoying themselves in the water.

The sun is beaming down at me as I'm making my way through the gate, glancing around until I find Aria. "Victoria! Hey!" She shouted with glee, waving her hand. I found her lying on the pool lounger.

"Hey Aria." I greeted, placing my bag on the ground.

"Go on in the pool if you want. I'm waiting for him to show up for his shift. It should be any moment now!"

"Really?" Sitting down at the foot of the empty pool lounger, I shook my head at Aria in disapproval.

She scoffed. "Oh don't give me that look, Victoria." I shook my head at her, dropping my shorts and tossing it in my bag.

Aria let out a gasp out of the blue, sitting up straight. "Speaking of Billy. There he is!"

"Where?" I asked, casually pulling a flask out of my bag. I'm not an alcoholic and I don't plan to get plastered, but a little buzz is well deserved.

Aria doesn't respond. Instead, I scan my surroundings until I spotted the only male lifeguard walking the grounds to my left. He is tastefully shirtless, wearing red swim shorts, a whistle necklace and brown aviator shades. His dirty blonde hair is styled into a mullet, which surprisingly fits his face perfectly.

Billy's head snapped my direction as I'm taking a swig out of my whiskey filled flask. I couldn't tell if he was directly looking at me due to the shades masking his eyes, but all of the women's eyes were on him. And by the swagger of his steps, I can tell he's reveling in it.

"Eh." I shrugged my shoulders, once Billy passed me and sat comfortably in the lifeguard chair. "He's alright." I lied.

From his perfectly tanned skin to his flawlessly sculpted muscles, it's as if his body was made by angels. Even from a distance, I could see that his plump lips could lose any woman in his kiss. But no, I had to feign being unimpressed because a man that looks like that is bad news for me.

"Are you freaking kidding me?" She briskly pulled her sunglasses off, shooting me a look of disgust.

"Are your sunglasses blinding you?"

I snorted. "Nope. I can see perfectly clear."

"Ugh! If you think that Billy Hargrove is just alright, then I don't even want to know what kind of men you consider perfect." Aria mentioned seriously to me as she laid back and placed her sunglasses back on.

"Don't care. I'm going for a dip." I threw my flask back inside my bag before rising to my feet towards the pool to swim a few laps.

Stroking through the water, there is no one alive who can stop me. It's a moment like this that makes me miss the beaches in California. But I close my eyes and lose myself, pretending that's exactly where I am.

Unaware how long I've been swimming to and fro, I do one more lap before I take a break and reward myself with another sip of whiskey.

As I am motioning out of the water and my feet are planted onto the cement, a deep, male voice captures my attention. "Here."

I look and it is the stud himself, Billy Hargrove handing me a towel. "Oh thanks." I accepted with a soft smile, almost hesitant because I have a towel in my bag but I didn't want to seem rude.

I begin pat drying my long, black hair with the towel and begin sauntering towards my designated pool lounger, but Billy halts me, "Hey sweetheart." I spun around to face him with furrowed brows. "What's your name?" He asked, removing his glasses to reveal his annoyingly beautiful, blue eyes.

"Victoria. And you?" I asked even though I already know.

"The name's Billy." He said, randomly placing a piece of gum in his mouth which caused me to catch a glance at his lips, then to his abs and back to his eyes. I swear I saw the corner of his lip quirk up when he caught me. "Nice to meet ya Victoria."

"You too Billy." The sun was so hot that I didn't even need to dry off my body anymore. Instead, I threw the towel over my shoulder.

"Am I mistaken or is this your first time here?" He asked, smacking his gum as he's indiscreetly giving me an elevator look.

"No you're right." Before Billy had the chance to speak any further, I pointed behind him towards the pool. "Hey, I think there's a kid drowning over there."

Just as I predicted, he cautiously looked over his shoulder and that's when I made a beeline towards my pool lounger next to Aria.

"You. Dumb. Bitch." Aria remarked with obvious displeasure as I'm searching for my flask. "I can't be friends with you anymore."

"What now, Aria?"

"Billy the hottie was obviously into you and you blew it! Ugh, the things I'd do to be in your shoes right now."

"Oh please. He's just another pretty boy that wants one thing." I implied before taking a sip. "Go over there and talk to him yourself then." Flickering my eyes, I am now seeing that Billy's back on his lifeguard chair.

"Um no. If Billy wants somebody, Billy always makes the first move. Do I look like I want to embarrass myself right now?"

"If you say so." I said, readjusting the pool lounger so that it was flat and I lied on my stomach, using my arms as a makeshift pillow. "Can you rub sunscreen on me and wake me up in 30. I'm taking a nap."

Being the good friend that she is, Aria stole the sunscreen from my bag and did as I asked. She knows I'd do the same for her.

"I know you can't see right now," she started after a minute of no words exchanged, "but he's looking over here. Probably at your ass." She paused. "I wouldn't blame him though."

She's right. I do have a nice ass.

"Billy can stare all he wants. What do I care?" I uttered lazily, eyes closed and ready to sleep.

"You're insane! If I can't have him, then can you have him for me? And tell me if it is big!" She whisper shouted, rubbing the last bit of sunscreen needed on me.

"Im not having sex with anyone, Aria. Especially not him. I'm taking my nap now."

Billy is just another handsome face with a Calvin Klein body which doesn't impress me because it seems like he's used to getting any woman he wants. But I'm not any other woman, so he can use that charm on the next one for all I care.