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mediocre-writerr · 3 years

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better half of me [lexie grey]

lexie grey x fem reader

requested: hi there can I request a Lexie grey x fem reader imagine where reader is marks sister and moves from Houston where she was working previously and gets a job in Seattle so when she arrives she flirts and sleeps around with all the nurses, but then she meets Lexie and falls deeply in love with her and stops sleeping around and tries to pursue Lexie but one day sees her and mark in bed together so she starts sleeping around again, and when the plain crashes Lexie makes it out alive, because reader saved her and when they get back reader confesses to Lexie, and if it’s possible could u write a time skip where they have a bunch of kids and are happily married?

trigger warning: slight mention of alcohol addiction

*not my gif*

You don’t remember what happened on that plane. How you guys got in the middle of the woods with your plane split in half. Everything was blurry, but you saw mostly everyone: Meredith, Cristina, Arizona, your brother Mark, and Lexie?

Wait...where’s Lexie?

You immediately shot up, ignoring the pain that you felt in the right side of your body. You tried walking normally when you started to limp.

“Woah, woah, Y/N!” Mark comes over and you finally look at your foot and hand.

Your hand was impaled by the pieces of the plane metal. It was numb. Your whole hand was numb, but you didn’t care about that. So was your foot, you couldn’t feel it. But you didn’t care, all you cared about was trying to find Lexie.

“Y/N, we need to get that out of your hand. It’ll cause serious damage,” he tried to stop you from whatever you were doing.

“No, I can’t. I got to-I got to find,” you start to say, but trail off.

He sits you down on the mulch ground before you can protest, “This is going to hurt,” he whispers.

He pulled the metal plane out before you could even realize what was happening. You let out a piercing scream, he immediately ripped a piece of fabric from his scrubs and wrapped it around your hand.

Before you knew it he did the same thing with your foot, “You need to rest Y/N,” he told you, but you shook your head, pushing him away.

“No! Where’s, where’s-” you start to say again.

“Lexie!” Meredith scream and your head shot towards the sound of her name like a deer hearing the softest of footsteps.

You ran towards her to see her trapped over a piece of hunky plane metal. Her breathing was heavy as she couldn’t move.

“Y/N, is that you?” she whispered.

You nodded, immediately lying down on the floor next to her, “Yeah, yeah. It’s me. I’m right here,”

“I’m gonna die,” she whispered.

You shook your head quickly, “No, no! You are not dying. I am going to save you, do you understand?”

You started to get up from the ground when she grabbed your hand, squeezing it ever so softly. You were met with those beautiful brown eyes that you completely fell in love with. Then all the memories from when you first moved to Seattle and meeting Lexie flooded back.

“So I was thinking you and I go on a date tonight. Something casual, wine and pizza at my new place,” you asked, suggesting more to come out of the date.

The nurse had her head propped up onto her chin, “I’d really like that, but what’s for dessert?” she whispered back.

You were about to answer when someone shoved a chart in the nurse’s face. You looked to see a dirty blonde haired woman. She gave you a fake smile, “Hey, Dr. Grey?” you looked at her coat, “Have you seen uh Dr. Sloan?” you asked a dirty blonde hair girl.

She looks at you, slightly annoyed, “Another one of Mark’s suitors?” she asked and you shook your head.

“That is probably the grossest thing I’ve ever heard, I’m Y/N Sloan, Mark’s sister,” you told her, “I heard a lot about you,”

“That explains the flirting with the nurses, wait- Mark talks about me?” she asked and you nodded, “What does he say?”

“Well that depends are you the ‘dirty mistress’ Grey or ‘little’ Grey?” you return the question and she just internally rolls her eyes.

“Of course he says I’m the dirty mistress,” she whispered.

You were about to respond when someone called Meredith’s name. You followed the sound of the voice to see a beautiful brunette girl approaching the two of you. Your eyes widened slightly at the beauty of this one girl.

Her brown doe eyes caught your attention and you smiled ever so slightly, “Cristina needs you to help her with a CT scan. It’s for a patient,”

“Thank you Lexie,” she said, but before walking away she turns to you, “I’ll page Mark. Try not to flirt with any more nurses while you wait. We already had a case of syphilis, we don’t need another,”

You let out a heart laugh, “It was nice to finally meet the dirty mistress,” you teased and you knew it was going to be the start of a beautiful friendship.

“You know Mark?” the beautiful girl named Lexie asked.

You nodded, “Yeah, he’s my brother. I just moved here from Houston, got a call from Dr. Webber himself and was offered a job,”

“That explains the comment,” she mumbled and you just raised your eyebrows, “Mark’s known to be a player around here and by the looks of it, it runs in the family,”

“Well, you know what they say, the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree,” you said with a shrug.

She scoffed softly, “Is that my favorite Sloan?” you heard a familiar voice ask. You see Derek walking towards the two of you. You wrap your arms around them and pat his back in the process.

“I hope I’m your favorite Sloan,” you teased, “Where is my brother anyway?”

“I have no idea, but I heard you got a job here. You’re here to give me a run for my money huh?”

“Wait, your specialty is neuro?” Lexie asked.

“Yep and to answer your question Derek I am definitely going to give you a run for your money. Head of neuro will be mine,” you joked as he rolled his eyes.

“Did someone forget to tell me that my baby sister got a job at my hospital?” you heard his voice boom through the lobby. You rolled your eyes playfully as he hugged you.

“Why didn’t you tell me you got a job here or better question how many nurses numbers have you gotten?” he asked and the two of you laughed.

You reached into your pocket, pulling out pieces of paper, “I taught you well!”

Lexie who was still standing there scoffed as Derek just let out a sigh, “The two of you are insufferable,” she stated annoyed before walking away.

You looked at her as she walked away, “Is she single?”

“Nope, that’s off limits for the both of you. You’re not going to put her through that,” Derek stated and you let out a sigh.

You were snapped back into the harsh reality as Lexie tried her best to squeeze your hand, “Y/N, I still remember being on your service. You came to talk to me about our patient...” she was lost in thought before she started speaking again, “It was a Jane Doe after a tragic car crash and I was having a rough day because of my dad. Then you, you heard me snap at Meredith...”

She started to trail off and you nodded, “I remember,”

You were walking up to where Meredith and Lexie were talking. Meredith started to walk away as Lexie followed behind her. You posted at the nurse’s counter next to where they were standing to right down a quick note, when you heard them argue.

“My mother was born in March. He lied, he’s a liar. And I’m glad. Really, I’m glad that you found him charming. I’m sure he was delightful. He’s a blast after five drinks not so much after nine though, he gets a little weepy and mean,” you overheard her say.

You were about to walk away and find her later when she yelled, “He’s a drunk, Meredith. He probably came in and told you how wonderful you are. How sad he is that he doesn’t get to spend more time with you. You know, yesterday he told me I was his favorite daughter. The day before I was an ungrateful bitch. The week before he wrote me a check for 20,000 dollars because he said I deserved everything life had to offer because he was so proud of me. A lifetime’s worth of proud. So you can’t listen to anything he says,” her voice started cracking and your face softened, “Because it’s not about you. It’s about a pint and a half of Dewar’s. So thank you for letting me know I needed to keep a better eye on him. Thanks.”

She started to walk away and you stood in front of her trying to get her to calm down. You noticed the tears forming in her eyes, “No please don’t,” she pushed you away gently before walking away.

You immediately followed after her to the attendants break room. You looked the door behind you as she sat on the couch, placing her head in her hands. You walked over and sat right next to her, sitting there in silence.

There were a few moments of silence before you spoke up again, “I know what it’s like to have a drunk dad. You’re not alone. You don’t have to take this on all on your own,” you whispered, placing a hand on her shoulder, “If you want you can rest up in here. I can handle Jane Doe until you’re ready. If any of the attendants give you shit about being here, let them know I gave you permission. If you need anyone to talk to, I’m here,”

Lexie squeezed your hand, bringing you back from the memory, yet again, “That was the first time I saw you as an actual person. Not someone who just wanted to mess around with people’s feelings, an actual person,” she smiled softly through the pain, “But I didn’t fall in love with you until the night at my dad’s house. You came to pick me up to take me to Meredith’s party and my dad was drunk and he was mean and he-”

“I know, I remember,”

You pulled up to Lexie’s house. You were supposed to meet up with one of the many nurse’s you’ve been hooking up with it. But you cut it off, you cut them all off.

After you comforted her, all you could think about was her. How intelligent she was. How sweet and kind she tries to be with everyone around her. Yeah, she was beautiful, but she was so much more than that.

That’s the only time you’ve ever felt that towards anyone.

You knocked on the door, you waited patiently. One minute would pass and you decided to knock again. But no one answered.

You turned the door handle and surprisingly it opened. You looked around the room to see shattered glass all over the floor and Thatcher passed out on the couch.

Lexie was sitting on the kitchen floor. A deep cut on her forehead. Her eyes red and puffy as she swept the shattered glass with a small broom.

“Lexie! What happened?” she jumped at the sound of her voice.

She sniffled, “He-he got mean and he didn’t like that I was going out. He through his beer bottle at me, not just one either,”

You looked at the empty beer case next to the couch and you pulled her up from the floor. Immediately, pulling her out of that horrid house.

The car ride was silent as you felt your blood boil. You forgot all about Meredith’s party and went straight to your apartment. The two of you entered and you immediately grabbed your first aid kit.

Lexie sat on the kitchen counter as you stitched up her forehead. The two of you in a comfortable silence. Once you finished bandaging her, you helped her off the counter.

“Are you okay?” you whispered and she nodded with a tight lipped smile.

“I-I’m fine,” her voice cracked as tears poured out her eyes.

She let out loud sobs as she broke down onto the floor. You scooped her up in your arms to keep her from falling onto the floor.

You held her tight as she buried her face into your chest, “Shhh I got you. You’re safe now. You’re okay.”

That night she fell asleep in your arms. You picked her up and laid her gently onto your bed. You tucked her in, placing a soft kiss to her forehead.

“I promise I’m always going to protect you,”

You started to get up when she squeezed your hand, “Please just stay with me,”

From that night on, you decided to be better. To do better. To be someone she deserved.

But once you got there, it was too late.

You were going over to Mark’s house to surprise him with takeout, when you walked into something you didn’t ever want to walk in on.

Mark and Lexie were cuddled up on the couch. Their clothes on the floor as a blanket hanged loosely over it.

It was too late. You were too late.

“I thought you hated me for a while. Your whole demeanor changed around me,” Lexie said, her breathing still heavy.

You heard shouts from Meredith from behind you as Cristina kept on yelling for her shoe, “I could never hate you,”

You walked into the attendant’s break room to see Mark and Lexie being all couple-like, “Hey Y/N,”

You have them a tight lipped smile before going to pour your coffee, “You’re not supposed to be here,” you stated simply.

“What?” Lexie asked.

You didn’t look up from the coffee pot, “It’s the attendants’ break room. Residents aren’t allowed. You need to leave,”

“Y/N, seriously?” Mark asked.

“I don’t make the rules,” you whispered.

You could feel Lexie’s stare piercing at you, “It’s fine Mark, I’ll leave,”

“What’s going on with you, Y/N?” Mark asked.

“Nothing I’m fine,”

You don’t know what came over. You gave up on trying to be better. Do better. So there you were with a nurse sleeping on top of you and the only person you could think of was Lexie.

Then of course like it always does the worst happened. Lexie came bursting through the room, “I uh I’m sorry. But Hunt wants to meet with us, Mark, Derek, Meredith, Cristina, and Arizona,”

“I’ll be right there,” you threw on your clothes and walked right past her.

“What’s your problem with me?” she asked as you guys were walking to Hunt’s office.

“Nothing,”

“Obviously there’s something, you won’t even look at me,” she stated a hint of sadness in her voice.

“There’s nothing. We’re fine,”

“Just stop and talk to me!” she yelled.

“There’s nothing to talk about Lexie. You already have one Sloan in your life. You don’t need two. Remember the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree,” you snapped.

“Y/N, I’m dying,” she whispered and you shook your head. The adrenaline coursing through your body.

“No, you’re not dying today, okay?” you whispered.

You started to get up again when she grabbed her hand, “Please just stay with me. I have one more thing I want to say,”

“I always thought you were-you were a player. You didn’t want to settle down, you just wanted fun. But that didn’t stop me from loving you. If things were different, if we were different,” she whispered and your eyes started to tear up, “I never loved Mark the way I loved you. And he knew that, we both knew that.”

“Stop, okay? No goodbyes. You’re going to become and amazing neurosurgeon, Lexie. You have so much more to learn. A whole life ahead of you,” you told her, “You’ll settle down with kids and a husband or wife. Someone who makes you happy,”

It was her turn to shake her head, “I don’t get that. We will never get that together. I know you hate me, but Y/N, you’ll always be my favorite what if,”

That was all it took for you to get up. You don’t know what came over you, but you stood up and you tried lifting the stupid plane metal off of her. You let out a groan as you started pushing it off.

Hysterical strength is what they called it. When your adrenaline and your hormones and body chemistry kicks in during a dangerous situation. You pushed the plane right off of her.

Then started to immediately patching her up. Not too long later a rescue plane arrived. Lexie started falling in and out of consciousness.

You sat in the emergency room as your hand was getting checked out. They rushed Lexie back to the OR, you didn’t care if your hand lost all its function. All you cared about was her.

“I always knew,” Mark whispered to you as the two of you sat next to each other in the emergency room, “That she loves you and that you love her. I don’t know why I thought that I could get into the middle of it,”

He places his hand in your numb one, “She’s going to be okay,”

“The last thing she’s going to think about me is that I hated her. I never hated her,” I whispered.

You don’t know how long it was before the doctor came out, looking straight at me, “She’s okay and she’s asking for you.”

You shot out from your bed and rushed to her room. She sat there, her hair slightly messy as she gave you a small smile, “Hi,”

You immediately ran towards her, cupping her face as gently as possible, before pulling her closer. The two of your lips finally touching. It was magic. Sparks flying as the two of you kissed.

“I never hated you. I could never hate you. I’m sorry I was just so jealous and upset about you and-“ you started to ramble as you pulled away.

“I know,”

“I’ve loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you,” you whispered, “Please don’t ever leave me. You’re too special to be a what if,”

Fifteen years later

“So mommy used to have super strength?” your youngest daughter turned to Lexie and you chuckled softly.

Lexie nodded, “She still does. Whenever you’re in danger, mommy will help activate her super strength and help you,” Lexie bopped her nose as the two of you told her, her favorite bedtime story.

“She’s like the Hulk!” your son added and you laughed before ruffling his hair.

“You guys really set the bar for love stories didn’t you?” your teenage daughter asked, rolling her eyes playfully after hearing the semi true fairytale story for a thousandth time.

“Oh definitely. You can try to beat us, but you’ll fail,” you teased her and Lexie pushed you playfully.

You guys laugh, “Bedtime everyone!” Lexie announced.

“Goodnight,” the two of you said to your youngest daughter, placing a soft kiss on her forehead. Before hugging your son and daughter.

The two of you settled into bed as Lexie curled up into your arms. She placed her hand in yours, squeezing it ever so softly. The feeling of her hand in your once injured one was comforting.

“You’re my better half, did you know that?” you whispered, “You bring out the better half of me,”

“And you bring out mine,”

#grey’s anatomy imagines #lexie grey imagines #lexie grey x reader #lexie grey

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icyowl · 4 years

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Hawks’s wings have a mind of their own (headcanons)

A/N: some slight suggestive themes, so don’t like read this to your parents or anything.

You were about to step off a curb right into the path of a cyclist and suddenly you were mom-armed back onto the sidewalk. It was a powerful force that almost had you tripping back onto your butt. He was standing next to you with a smirk, so you thought this was his cheeky way of keeping you safe.

Internally though, this man is screaming. What the hell was that? This has never happened before with his other girlfriends. It wasn’t hero instinct either -- his wing had yanked him to you.

He gets flustered the next time.

Once is a fluke, but twice is a pattern.

You hadn’t seen the old glass mason jar come off the top shelf along with whatever you were reaching for until it was heading straight down to your face. There was nothing to do other than brace for a painful impact. You were surprised at the large gust of wind and a deafening shatter of glass. Hawk’s wing had narrowly missed your head and full on backhanded that mason jar across the room. Wasn’t his fault the glass shattered when it hit the wall, but he did offer to clean it up.

Even his feathers will detach from their home and come to your aid. Can’t reach something? They’ve already scooped it up and are offering it to you. About to trip over a pair of shoes that got left out? They’re pushing them out of the way. Something’s heavy? Well now they’re carrying it for you.

Yes, they do unconsciously cover you from rain if you’re both caught outside. It’s cliche but damn if it doesn’t make your heart all big and mushy.

Weeks later it was snowing and the two of you were walking in a park because you insisted on seeing the beautiful new scenery. Even with all the clothes, gusts of wind burst through your layers and made you shiver a little. It wasn’t that bad, but suddenly there was one of his wings coming to your rescue. Not only did it wrap carefully around your waist, but his alula arced over your head so you weren’t just getting hugged, you were being surrounded by fuzz and fluff.

Hawks was looking ahead and hadn’t stopped talking, so it was clear he hadn’t realized what he’d done. It wasn’t until you carefully grabbed one of his primary feathers to further bring his wing around you that he broke consciousness and saw what was happening. Christ, he thought, I have to talk to someone about this.

He finally decided to share his findings with you when a particularly heavy makeout session gave his wings enough control to ever-so-carefully slip under your shirt before stiffening and -- rriiippp -- sending the shredded remains to the floor and causing you to cover yourself in utter surprise. Again, his wings had never done that before.

‘The talk’ has nothing to do with changing bodies or how to avoid pregnancy. No, this talk with Hawks involves him sitting you down and haphazardly trying to explain to you that his wings just do stuff when you’re around. He tried to get help from other animal-based quirk users after the day it snowed, and they all said they had experienced the same things: animalistic appendages moving on their own, instincts becoming overwhelmingly powerful for people they hold dear, even making strange noises during times of excitement for that special someone.

It can get embarrassing when others are around because he’s got a persona to maintain and now he can’t control his own limbs so what does that say about his abilities? Someone makes a joke that hits you the wrong way at a gala and suddenly a wing has placed itself in front of you and is pushing you back behind your date. Hawks’s wing had tried to place you under his protection by all but pinning you to his spine. People began to stare when they realized the almighty Hawks had subconsciously tried to protect your honor. That one had been fun to try and explain away.

Someone tried to attack Hawks and you out of the blue one day and triggered both his predatory and protective instincts. A wing lashed out and shoved you back and out of harm's reach. The force was powerful enough to make you fall and almost hit your head. Meanwhile Hawks had become an entirely different creature than the carefree one you had grown too accustomed to.

Now, Hawks isn’t a big guy. He’s average height and got a slim build. However, the sudden intensity of his presence was frightening and growing more powerful by the second as he all but stalked the man who had tried to come after you. Hawks was now an apex hunter cornering his prey with his animalistic gaze alone. Wings came up to make him larger than his opponent, furthering his status as a high ranking animal and crowning him king over his opponent.

Hawks didn’t speak -- he might have even lost the ability to -- and that made him even scarier. Instead he growled deep and powerful with a timber only a beast could perform. This wasn’t a person anymore.

Unbeknownst to you or Hawks, his eyes had constricted to onyx specs hooded by eyelids lowered in powerful contempt for the insufferable cretin that had dared harm his mate in such an underhanded method. At least face him head on like someone of power would do.

You could only see Hawks from the back, but he was still unsettling to watch. You’d never want to be frightened of him, but this was so unexpected.

It was only your scream that brought Hawks out of his hunt. It hadn’t occurred to you during the commotion that the assailant would have a compatriot. You were being dragged away for only a couple of feet before Hawks registered the threat and all but lunged at the woman who had the audacity to lay a hand on you.

Hawks came at you in one movement, so swift and violent you closed your eyes. A gust of wind disturbed your hair, and a weight settled gently over you. For all his ferocity, Hawks stopped on a dime over top of you, hunched low to the ground and incinerating the female attacker with just his eyes.

You weren’t scared now. Sure, Hawks was something entirely different right now, but the way he covered you and kept you close to the ground with his body could only be an action of protection. He had one knee and one foot on either side of your waist, with one hand planted firmly on the ground right next to your head and the other wielding a primary feather as a blade.

His wings fanned out to their maximum reach and skimmed the ground. They were covering any possible blind spots Hawks might have whilst protecting your sight from seeing any lethal damage their owner might cause in the next few seconds. Time slowed enough for one wing to lean down and barely brush your hand in a show of comfort. It was trying to convey to you that you were safe now, and wanted to see if you were okay. Hawks’s wings were sensitive enough to gauge the wellbeing of a person based on a second of contact, and you knew that was what he was unconsciously doing now.

Seeing their odds of success diminishing by the second, the two assailants took off with screams of apology thrown over their shoulders.

There was a pause while Hawks regained his mental acuity and composure. He slowly lowered his head onto your own and breathed in deeply. It was a deeply compassionate action that contrasted sharply with the man of instinct that had pinned you under him only a couple of seconds ago. “You’re okay?”

You were still too jarred to do much other than nod and hum an approval. “Thank you.”

It took him some time to convince himself the threats were gone and to get off of you.

You had a nightmare that same night. Hawks was still waking up when his wings pulled you over to him. You couldn’t remember much of the dream, but it must have been a bad one; you felt fine, but tears were clearly running down your face. Again his wing was there, gentler than a lamb as it wiped the paths of water from your cheeks and dried the corners of your eyes.

The next time you do the dirty, it becomes surprisingly intimate. He totally caught you off guard when his wings wrapped around him to slip under your body and basically hug you to him while you guys are getting down to business. You knew him well enough to see the uncertainty in his face: he’d never felt this way before, or done things like this. This part of him had never been this powerful before and it made him nervous. What if he was changing? What if he was losing himself?

His canines had grown and sharpened so talking was really difficult. All you had to go off of were his eyes of wariness and a hint of shame. For Christ’s sake, he couldn't even speak to you right now. What did that say of him? Hawks felt nothing like himself right now and it was quite unsettling.

The best and only thing you could think of to prove to him was to show that you accepted all of him, even the parts of him he tried not to show or didn’t understand. You manifested that affection in your mouth, and touched it gently to his own. That night was spent cocooned in his rumbling, chesty calls and easing him through the bouts of potent instinctual desire that almost consumed him. He didn’t want to hurt you, and he was worried he would cause you harm with all this emotion and intensity crashing through his blood. Your presence and comforting words helped him keep the worst of it at bay and work through it. After that night you achieved a closeness few could imagine.

If you’re ever in a combat situation, Hawks likes to put you between him and a wall and use his wings to stretch back and cage you in, in a sort of triangle of protection. He knows you’re not weak or anything, he knows that… but he can’t help himself.

You talk to his wings as if Hawks isn’t there. It’s a whole thing. He can’t meet your eyes ‘cause it's cute and he’s not supposed to enjoy it this much so he’s trying not to react. Thankfully you only do these kinds of antics in private. When you coo and gush over them they puff out without warning and rub into you like an overzealous dog.

--------

As a fellow birb I sympathize with this man. It’s okay to like shiny objects Hawks, no one will judge you.

#icyowl #hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #fluff #suggestive themes #avian keigo

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glitteryglitter · 3 years

Note

hii i have a request for a finnick story. so i was thinking maybe if it was during the quarter quell and the reader is a victor for district 1 or something and her and finnick hate each other but secretly care about each other. the reader ends up leaving her alliance with the careers to join finnicks group forming an alliance at some point in the games. THANKS!!

𝙰𝙽: It's been a while since I read Mockingjay, so I'm sorry if some details are off. Thank you so much for requesting!

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: Mentions of violence

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: Finnick X District 1! Fem! Reader

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 1286

๑*˚🍓˚*๑

The quarter quell had been an absolute nightmare for everyone. even the careers

As they all milled around a clearing in the forest, they all had the exact same worries.

They were all terrified, for themselves, and each other.

Y/n had almost gotten stabbed, and Gloss hadn't been doing too well either.

Even Brutus looked visibly stressed.

Meanwhile, Enobaria had been glancing around the small clearing shiftily. The careers had decided to stay in a part of the arena that didn't look as dangerous, yet the tension was almost unbearable.

The entire experience had been even worse than Y/n's first hunger games, mainly because people very close to her were very likely to be killed,

Also the absolutely insufferably cocky district four boy was in the arena with her.

He'd even had the nerve to recited a love poem he'd written to someone in his interview.

Y/n couldn't imagine anyone actually wanting to spend more than five minutes with him and his overall demeanor.

She truly couldn't stand him, or his deep blue eyes. Why anyone would ever want to date him, she didn't know.

Why he thought he had a chance with someone, she didn't know either. But, she wasn't one to judge, and the topic of him dating someone merely made her feel angry, so she decided to shove all thoughts of Finnick and his love life out of her already racing mind.

What y/n did know for certain, was that she'd do everything in her power to make sure that those in her alliance stayed alive.

At that moment, monkey mutts, hundreds of them appeared and began running towards the group.

Y/n tried to focus, but there were so many of them, and she certainly didn't want any of them to catch up with her.

She couldn't place where they were coming from, but she didn't really need to at the moment.

What she needed, was to keep her allies safe.

The careers scattered.

Their previous attempts at sticking together were not working out as well as they had hoped.

Gloss dashed towards the ocean, meanwhile, Brutus ran through some bushes.

Enobaria had already disappeared, no doubt trying to get away from the horrible little mutts as well.

It was at that moment that Y/n realized something: She was all alone.

She really needed a plan.

However, with the monkey's shrieking playing in her head, practically driving her insane, it was hard to think straight.

She ran in the direction she thought Gloss had gone, but only succeeded in getting lost.

Finally, she found an area that was thankfully, small-primate-free.

Y/n was left with the terrifying feeling of being alone, and very very vulnerable.

She'd dropped her spear and there was no way that the others were unarmed.

She knew some hand-to-hand combat, but not enough to save herself if someone else had a knife.

Or worse, a bow and arrow.

๑*˚🍓˚*๑

At that moment. she heard voices.

Internally swearing, she crouched behind some vines as Finnick, Mags, Johanna, Katniss, and Peeta came into view.

They looked like they were arguing about something, Y/n only hoped that they would leave as soon as possible.

Unfortunately, that was not the case.

They all sat down and appeared to be setting up a place to stay.

Perfect.

Just perfect.

She had no way of escaping and Finnick, that idiot was with them.

She just couldn't believe how his hair still looked that good!

Wait, what?

She didn't know where that thought had come from, but she didn't particularly care, as long as she never needed to think about it again. ever.

If only there was a way for her to escape...

At that moment, a tree branch cracked and fell to the ground, startling her.

Y/n promptly tipped over and fell into plain view.

Everyone looked up and froze.

"Who is that?" Peeta asked.

Finnick, that idiot, walked over.

"Look who it is" Finnick pulled her up onto her feet with a hard expression on his face.

Y/n cringed slightly.

You two know each other?" Peeta asked, sounding more confused by the minute.

"Of course, they do. Finnick couldn't take his eyes off of her at the interviews. All through the training, I couldn't tell if they wanted to murder or kiss each other, but it was definitely one of the two. Don't act like you didn't see it." Katniss whispered.

That warranted a glare from the two.

"Listen, I don't think you like me very much, but I need to join your alliance."

Y/n was desperate at this point and this seemed to be her best bet if she didn't want to get murdered.

She really didn't want to rely on anyone, especially not Finnick, but she didn't have any other choice at the moment.

He nodded. "We'll make it work."

Finnick sighed, He didn't want to ever talk with the district 1 girl ever again.

He hated to admit it, but Katniss was right.

Y/n seemed to despise him, despite his best attempts at flirting.

He'd even written her a poem and recited it for the entire capitol to hear.

She certainly was special, and it would be better if he didn't have to kill her.

๑*˚🍓˚*๑

Several hours passed and the group, plus y/n, decided to move on.

They'd been walking for a while when she recognized the area they were in.

There weren't any monkey mutts this time.

Y/n was just beginning to relax when she heard something.

The sound of wings, along with Finnick shrieking.

"Y/n stop screaming You're not helping anyone!" Finnick yelled.

"Me? You're the one screaming! Could you maybe stop it? Just let me think!"

"Just shut up! You two weren't screaming up until now and it's not helping anything." Johanna was standing off to the side, completely calm as the entire group dissolved into chaos.

She did have a point.

Y/n remembered something.

She'd been told that Jabberjays echoed the screams of the person one cared about the most.

Why on earth were they echoing Finnick?

She realized then and there, it was all so obvious.

Maybe she did want to kiss him.

Had she been jealous all this time?

Why hadn't she noticed this earlier?

How on earth would she deal with this?

She was in the Quarter Quell of all things, definitely not the most romantic place to confess your love to someone.

Y/n took a few deep breaths, she knew that the screams weren't real.

It was a bad time to tell Finnick her feelings, but it was better now than never.

"Finnick, I need to tell you something"

Y/n was practically shaking, but she still persisted.

How do I say this...I hated you- I thought I hated you... She paused to take a deep breath.

Finnick hoped this was going the way he thought it was. Did she like him? She couldn't possibly. After all, she'd basically admitted to wanting to murder him. But had she? She'd never said it specifically.

"I like you. I didn't want to admit it, but I like you. A lot. I understand if you don't feel the same, but- she paused again no doubt, thinking she'd said something very wrong.

"Can we kiss?" Finnick asked.

This must be a dream. A fever dream, but still, a very, very good one.

Y/n thought as she melted into the kiss.

"Oh my god. What is it with you two? I can't believe I decided to ally with this group", Johanna hollered over the Jabberjays.

"Because we're better than the careers, of course! Sorry, y/n not you." Finnick yelled back.

She shook her head.

Y/n could still see a hint of a smile on her lips.

๑*˚🍓˚*๑

#finnick odair #finnick imagine #finnick x reader #THG #the hunger games imagine

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jamespotterthefirst · 4 years

Text

At Last (Ethan x f!MC)

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 2.5K Warning: N/A Premise: It’s the day after gala and they’re not hiding anymore.

A/N: Just MC and Ethan being disgustingly cute publicly. Told through three different POVs

Rosa quickened her steps as she trekked through the parking lot, her numb fingers tugging her coat closer around her shoulders. She was in a rush to get inside the hospital, partly because of the piercing cold of the bleak morning but also because of the fresh wave of gossip that awaited her. Now more than ever, she kicked herself for skipping out on the gala, having thought of herself as just a tired, overworked nurse who was not important enough to bring in any donations.

By the way her phone blew up throughout the night with notifications, she had missed the revelation of the century. Apparently, irritable and reserved Dr. Ramsey had kissed charming and vivacious Dr. Allende for everyone to see.

And if the many accounts were to be believed, it had been one hell of a kiss.

Said accounts varied wildly depending on who recounted them. Roxanne, for example, claimed they fully made out in the middle of the dance floor while the residents cheered them on. Marlene, on the other hand, swore Dr. Ramsey professed his feelings for the unsuspecting young doctor in a grand gesture before he dipped her back and kissed her as the music swelled around them.

Rosa didn't have an opportunity to decide which version she believed because just then, she heard the unmistakable baritone voice of Dr. Ramsey from a few parked cars away.

“The gossip in there is going to be insufferable.”

Rosa halted, realizing a second later that he stood several feet away, easily towering over the parked cars. Once convinced she was well out of sight, she craned her neck to take a better look. Both subjects of the new Edenbrook gossip stood by Dr. Ramsey’s luxury car, the space between them so minimal that it left no doubt that they were indeed together. If their proximity was not enough to convince anyone of this fact, the way Dr. Ramsey caressed every inch of her face with his gaze would be more than enough proof.

“So it'll be just like any other day,” Dr. Allende laughed, circling her arms around his neck and closing the small space between them. “Might I remind you that you're the one who decided to kiss me in front of the whole hospital?”

To Rosa's utter shock, Dr. Ramsey grinned down at his companion. The sight was so rare from the usually reticent doctor that Rosa mindlessly leaned forward to take a better look.

“Is that a complaint, Allende?”

“Hardly.”

Their words were playful but quiet, as though uttered from under a hazy spell. Effortlessly, Dr. Allende raised herself on tiptoes to kiss him, not that she needed to because Dr. Ramsey leaned down at once to meet her. It was a brief kiss that still managed to be so much more, their small sighs getting lost in the other's lips.

When they broke apart, Dr. Ramsey looked troubled, his mouth slanting thoughtfully.

“What is it?”

“I don't regret what I did,” he began after a short pause. “But it doesn't change the fact that I acted impulsively last night and I didn't stop to think how it might affect you.” His fingers gently brushed away a wayward strand of hair away from her face. “Unfortunately, in these situations, it is always the woman who endures the most criticism. If anyone even dares—”

An affectionate smile had been growing on Dr. Allende's lips until it culminated in another quick kiss.

“I don't care,” she told him solemnly.

Dr. Ramsey opened his mouth to argue but the poor man looked to be having a difficult time with that, looking thoroughly distracted by the pretty, radiant smile before him.

“Ethan, I'm serious. Having you completely, like this—it's all I ever wanted. Besides, I'm here to do a job that I do damn well. If anyone has a problem with me, they can say it straight to my face.”

Dr. Ramsey regarded her with devoted admiration. Even Rosa felt a surge of approval toward the fierce doctor.

“That's so goddamn attractive.”

Dr. Allende let out a small, startled laugh. “Me being feisty?”

He nodded, already hovering close to her lips. “You did it to me often, especially last year. It was entirely too… distracting.”

The tortured way he confessed that left no doubt that this was far more than a fling or superficial office gossip. Dr. Allende realized that too because her smile was adoring, eyes alight with unmistakable happiness.

“And what are you going to do about that?”

“What I should've done every damn time.”

And he leaned down to kiss her.

---------

II.

Ines was certain that Zaid wasn't fully listening, his every effort invested in sending a glare at a gaggle of gossiping interns.

“You would think they had jobs to do,” he grumbled once they passed them in the hall. “If they spent as much time studying their cases as they do discussing senseless gossip, then they'd be half decent at their jobs.”

As usual, Ines offered him a fond smile, rolling her eyes in amusement. “You can't blame them, Z. Even you have to admit Dr. Ramsey and Lilac dating is a huge deal.”

Zaid let out an unconvincing scoff.

Restraining a laugh, Ines allowed a small silence to follow. Just as she knew he would, he dropped the stern facade and said, “I wonder if it's serious.”

“I hope so,” she confessed in a giddy whisper. Something about last night's events made Ines feel insurmountably happy for both doctors. “They make an adorable couple.”

Ines found confirmation to both of her statements hours later as she strolled into the packed coffeehouse. The plan had been to get a caramel latte for herself and a black coffee for Zaid during her afternoon break. But she'd be lucky to make it through the line before her next meeting.

In the end, she decided to stay. The prospect of her latte with a mountain of whipped cream was worth the line. She was trying to convince herself that the rare, grateful smile she would receive from Zaid in exchange for his coffee had nothing to do with it when she heard a familiar voice.

“There's not enough coffee in the world to get me through this day.”

Dr. Ramsey and Lilac sat at a table by one of the windows. The way they huddled together gave Ines the impression that they were enjoying a small respite from the whirlwind taking root at Edenbrook, both because of their relationship and because of the lawsuit.

Lilac reached across the table to clasp his hand firmly in hers. “You have me,” she told him earnestly, her thumb sweeping small trails across his skin. “We'll get through it together.”

Dr. Ramsey looked down at their joined hands and then back up at Lilac. It was almost as if every doubt and every hardship melted at the sight of her quiet smile. With a small nod, he raised their hands to kiss hers with such adoration, Ines felt as though she was intruding by just looking.

“You're right,” he told her. “I also have the promise of dinner together to get me through.”

At that, Lilac sent him a coy smile that made a slight blush appear on his cheeks. She leaned in and whispered something against his ear, the words lost against the cacophony of blenders, music, and conversation around them. By the time she leaned away, her smile was downright wicked while Dr. Ramsey looked stunned and pleased all at once, his face redder than before.

“Order for Ethan,” the barista called from the counter, saving him from spluttering a response.

As Dr. Ramsey approached the front to collect their drinks, his eyes fell on Ines, who couldn't help but grin sheepishly.

“Good afternoon, Dr. Delarosa,” he greeted with a nod.

“Hi Dr. Ramsey,” she returned cheerfully from her place in line. “I had to swing by to get good coffee. There are days when the cafeteria coffee just won't do.”

Dr. Ramsey grimaced in solidarity at the mention of the Edenbrook coffee. Aside from the small gesture, he didn't offer much more of a response, but he didn't move to walk away either. At the same time, both of their eyes moved to Lilac, too invested in her phone as she waited for Dr. Ramsey's return.

Something like panic flitted across Dr. Ramsey's face, before he relaxed, probably remembering he didn't have to hide anymore. With a defeated exhale, he asked, “So how bad is it?”

“Hmm?”

“The gossip. How vicious is it?” His voice sounded detached, purposely casual. Ines could tell, however, that the answer mattered more to him than he was willing to admit.

“Oh, it's not—” she started, still caught off guard.

“Because if anyone is suggesting anything untrue about Lilac or her place in my now disbanded team, I'll personally see that their job at Edenbrook is cut short, shorter than the rest of us.”

Ines couldn't help but smile broadly at that impassioned proclamation. Lilac was, without a doubt, lucky to have someone like Dr. Ramsey in her corner.

“It's okay, Dr. Ramsey,” she assured him. “That won't be necessary. Most of the staff is just shocked that you two kissed last night. So everyone's been mostly telling and retelling that story so much it's changed. The most outrageous one I've heard is a version where you took the microphone from the band and used it to dedicate Isn't She Lovely? to Lilac.”

“I don't think I'd ever—”

But he stopped himself abruptly, his eyes falling on Lilac at a distance. The small smile that tugged at his lips said everything he would never say to Ines in words: he'd do anything for Lilac.

It was most as if he was realizing that himself too because he couldn't bring himself to look away from her.

“I'm happy for you both, Dr. Ramsey,” Ines said sincerely.

Dr. Ramsey looked at Ines with an unreadable expression. She shifted on her feet, suddenly anxious she had overstepped. But Dr. Ramsey offered her a rare smile that made him look years younger.

“Thank you, Dr. Delarosa.” His eyes traveled back to Lilac. “I'm happy, too.”

---------

III.

It was no surprise that Naveen felt exhausted by the end of the day, as though every step drilled exhaustion further into his sore muscles. It was true that he was getting old but dealing with a malpractice lawsuit while desperately trying to keep a hospital afloat would wear out even the youngest and most resilient of doctors.

It seemed fitting that at the end of that thought, he found himself outside of Ethan's old office. The door, Naveen noticed, was halfway open and the voices of the office's occupants drifted out to the empty hall.

“...pointless to set up an office for only a month,” Ethan was saying.

Naveen drew closer to the door, never one to resist the prospect of a good conversation. Inside, Ethan and Lilac stood by the desk, unpacking a box of belongings and placing a few items around the otherwise bare room.

“Is this everything?” Lilac asked as she peered into the box.

“I've never been into frivolous office décor,” Ethan admitted with a shrug. “Particularly if it doesn't serve a purpose. It easily becomes clutter otherwise.”

Naveen almost chuckled at that, remembering the many times he teased and urged his protégé to have at least one personal item on his desk—anything to indicate a small semblance of his personality. In the end, Ethan agreed to a small succulent plant, refusing to add anything else.

Seeming to remember something, Ethan reached into his coat pocket and produced what looked like a small photograph.

“Is that the one they took last night at the gala?” Lilac asked, taking it from his hand to take a close look. “We look damn good.”

Ethan laughed, the sound almost foreign to Naveen.

“Most of the credit goes to you.” He finalized the words by giving her a sweet kiss on the forehead. Lilac did not seem to be satisfied with such a chaste kiss because she pulled him back down to her, their lips meeting.

Their kiss was short, breaking off into small sips that neither could stop. Foreheads pressed together, they shared a giddy string of laughter, looking much like a pair of lovestruck teenagers.

Ethan took the photo back from her. “I'll frame it and keep it at my desk.”

Lilac visibly froze at that, taking a second too long to recover with a signature taunting smile. Even from a distance, however, the old doctor could tell she was genuinely touched. Naveen, too, was pleasantly surprised. Back when he coerced Ethan into decorating his office, he had refused to add any framed photos.

“I don't have anyone I care enough about,” Ethan had begrudgingly explained back then.

“Will I be the only framed photo in your office, Dr. Ramsey? I am honored.”

Lilac's teasing smirk disappeared when Ethan drew closer to her, his hand easily finding their place at her hips. He kissed a soft trail from her cheek up to her ear before whispering, “You'll be the first, too.”

She pulled back briefly to study his face, perhaps expecting to see traces of dishonesty. When she saw none, she placed her hands at either side of his face and pulled him into a fiery kiss. She kissed him with such desperation, that they clumsily sent the empty box flying off the desk as Ethan walked her backwards.

That was Naveen's cue.

He cleared his throat.

They sprang apart, Lilac almost falling off the desk to meet the box as Ethan heartily stepped away.

Naveen chuckled as he entered the office. “Don't bother on my account,” he assured them. “After last night's display, no one in this hospital would expect anything less.”

“Eavesdropping again, old man?”

“You make it far too easy by leaving the door ajar. For someone who dedicates his life to solving mysteries, you're not very good at being one yourself.”

Lilac laughed, the sound infecting even Ethan. He allowed a grin as he drew her close, pressing her back against his chest and wrapping his arms securely around her.

Naveen couldn't help the knowing smile that spread across his face as he watched them.

Ethan, on the other hand, made a show of rolling his eyes. “Go on, then. Say it. I know you want to gloat.”

“Ah, you know me quite well.”

Lilac looked over her shoulder at Ethan and then at Naveen. “Gloat? Gloat about what?”

“About being right when regarding you two,” Naveen explained simply. “Even as I was slowly dying last year, I could tell you had caught Ethan's eye. In all my years knowing him, I had never seen him that way.”

Lilac all but squealed. “You liked me?”

In response, Ethan groaned, well aware he was outnumbered. “I thought that was obvious.”

“It wasn't.”

Both Lilac and Naveen laughed out loud while Ethan did a poor job at looking annoyed, all traces of this weak performance disappearing when she swiveled in his arms to press a kiss on his cheek. Naveen, for his part, felt his chest swell with pride, overcome with emotion at finally seeing Ethan unconditionally happy.

---------

A/N: Babies, are we okay after that chapter? Because I’m not!

Thank you for making it this far! Thank you @aestheticartsx for pre-reading and helping me out!

_____

(Sorry if I forgot anyone)

tags: @openheart12 , @takeharryandgo , @trappedinfanfiction, @aestheticartsx, @aworldoffandoms, @paulfwesley, @myusualnerdyself, @rookie-ramsey, @ohchoices, @colossalpainintheass, @enmchoices, @i-bloody-love-drake-walker, @choicesfanaf, @openheartthot, @octobereighth, @nazarihoe, @utterlyinevitable, @kites-in-our-skies, @maurine07, @schnitzelbutterfingers, @doilooklikeiknow, @snesdudes, @kingliam2019, @perriewinklenerdie, @cinnamonspongecake, @choicesstan1, @queencarb, @ethxnrxmsey, @missmiimiie, @jens-diamondchoices, @adamsdumortain, @mrsramseyy, @apphia12, @kalogh, @lucy-268, @binny1985, @queenbirbs, @honeyandsunfl0wers, @newcolonies, @lilyvalentine, @rigatonireid, @interobanginyourmom, @parkerattano, @custaroonie, @nikki-2406, @lilypills, @chasingrobbie, @nooruleman, @angela8756, @lonely-mxxnlight, @ruinedbypixels, @shadynaturehilariouscookie, @tsrookie, @mvalentine, @professorkingslay, @drakewalkerfantasy, @casey-v, @helloblueeyedcat, @mysticaurathings, @blossomanarchy, @thegreentwin, @togetherwearerapture, @rookieoh, @ramseysno1rookie, @rookiemarsswiftie, @natashajaniphil, @mysticalgalaxysstuff, @hatescapsicum, @choices-lurker, @kiara-36, @junehiratas, @danijimenezv, @macy-ray85, @adrex04, @canigetanawwjunk, @sanchita012, @overwhelminglyaquarius , @scorpiochick8, @skylarklyon, @starrystarrytrouble, @mercury84choices, @drariellevalentine, @ethanrcmsey, @lion-ess24, @aarisa-frost, @kaavyaethanramsey , @udishaman

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #playchoices #my writing #ethan ramsey fanfiction #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart fanfiction #choices fanfiction

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giorno-plays-piano · 4 years

Note

Can i get a yandere steve or bucky "rescuing reader" from a family brunch? She doesn't know him, hes been stalking her.

Who loves the characters stalking their darlings?? Meeee 🙈🙈🙈

Thank you for your request, honey!

Secret relationship

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, swearing, implied stalking, kidnapping.

Words: 1729.

__________________

Although the encounters with your family grew a bit more hostile over the year, this family brunch was an utter nightmare to you: your mom decided you didn’t know how worried she were about you having no decent partner. Listening to her trying to force you meeting a son of her coworker - “a very sweet boy with a kind heart and a nice salary, Y/N!” - you did your best not to roll your eyes. She was being impossible. Why on Earth did your mother think she could invade your life this way? You weren’t a kid anymore, and you didn’t need her interfering in your affairs.

But even your dad was unable to stop her as she kept talking more and more about you finally settling down. Once again your mother reminded you that in your age she had already had children of her own while you still struggled to find a man. Of course, she didn’t listen to you saying you didn’t want to settle down just yet.

Internally screaming, you drank your tea, unable to touch those amazing cinnamon buns right in front of you because your mom would definitely ask you whether you kept a healthy diet. She sent you such a look when you wanted to order some pasta.

“Mom, please.” You exhaled, barely holding on. “Every time you tried fixing me up with someone it never worked out. I know you’re doing it for me, but, ugh, we just have very different taste in men. Dad, no offense!”

He had to suppress a laugh under your mother’s icy glare and quickly snatched a bun, pretending he’s busy eating. You couldn’t blame him - sometimes you wandered how he was holding on all those years with your mom.

She wasn’t a bad parent, really. You loved her, and she was ready to give you everything she had to make you happy, but sometimes your mother just couldn’t see the line where she had to stop. Of course, her concern was genuine, yet she had no right to intrude into your personal life like it wasn’t a big deal.

“Dear, if you were able to find a nice man on your own, I wouldn’t have to do it for you,” she said, narrowing her eyes at you, and you felt like hiding behind your dad’s back.

“Well, maybe I have someone, but I just don’t tell you about him!” You protested, setting your cup back on the saucer and crossing your arms on your chest. “Have you ever thought about that?”

“And why would you refuse letting me know you date someone decent?” She chuckled, lowering her fork into heavenly smelling spaghetti Bolognese. “The answer is simple, isn’t it? Because even if he exists he’s not decent!”

You were really fighting your growing desire to just stand up, pay for the meal at the counter and leave because your mother was really insufferable today. You could never understand her concern with you not seeing anyone. if you were still happy, why did it matter? Why didn’t she ask you about your reasons? The last relationship you were in was suffocating, and you thought you were still recovering from it, enjoying your freedom.

God, now you were really thinking of asking your friend to pretend you were dating just to calm down your mom.

Exhaling loudly and squeezing your eyes shut when your dad tried talking to her, you wished for this family brunch to end as quickly as it could. Well, could you maybe message some of your friends to give you a call and then act like it was your boss? Last time it worked.

“Sweetheart, why do you never pick up your phone?”

Someone’s voice rang right behind you, and you jumped a little in your seat, turning away from your parents and looking at the man standing too close to your liking.

Holy cow. He looked like Adonis. Or Apollo. You couldn’t really tell, gawking at his impressive biceps barely hidden by his t-shirt, his tight jeans hugging all the right places - he reminded you of a ancient Greek statue, so picture-perfect and absolutely hot.

But what did this breathtakingly handsome stranger want from you? You certainly didn’t remember befriending any Greek gods in this lifetime.

“I’m sorry if I scared you. I admit I was a little mad you didn’t answer my calls.” He smiled, disarming and charming, and you were almost chocking on air at his tender tone.

Then he lifted the sunglasses he was wearing, and you realized he was winking at you.

Oh. Ooooh.

“I’m sorry!” You exclaimed, hurriedly taking out your phone from your bag hanging on the chair. “I put it on silent and forgot to check. Hi dear! How did you find me?”

“I’ve been secretly stalking you, of course.” He laughed it off, and the glasses kept going down on his nose until you saw who he really was. The next second you froze, happy you turned away from your parents as they would definitely see something wasn’t right.

Steve Rogers, Captain America himself, was staring back at you.

For a moment you forgot how to breathe, mentally kicking yourself to say something, anything at all to keep the conversation going. Captain America saw your miserable encounter with your mom and decided to give you a hand to escape this family brunch, and you weren’t even able to utter a single word. But who could blame you for that, right? How often did you see a superhero coming to rescue you from your own mom?

You needed to say something. You absolutely needed to say something.

“I will be more careful next time.” You managed to smile playfully at him, turning to face your parents and seeing they, too, had already realized who was standing in front of them. “Mom, dad, I’m sorry, but there’s a very good reason why I can’t meet that nice guy you were telling me about.”

“Please, forgive me my rudeness.” Steve hurriedly said as if he just saw people sitting at the same table with you, coming closer and extending his arm to your dad, then kissing the back of your mother’s hand. You were ready to laugh at her bedazzled expression, her mouth open a little. “My name is Steve. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” Your father said in a quiet voice, unable to process who was standing close to him.

It looked pretty surreal to you too, but you could hardly wish for a more perfect way to stop your mom from fixing you up with someone. Of course, you couldn’t tell her about your date because you were seeing Captain fucking America, alright? And no other sweet and nice boy could ever be compared to him, perfection of perfection.

You were so damn lucky Steve Rogers was willing to help you out here.

“I’m very sorry to interrupt your brunch, but I really need Y/N’s help with something and it's rather delicate. May I snatch her from you?” You could tell even your mother was absolutely abashed with his wide smile when Steve looked at her questioningly.

“O-of course, sir.” Your dad said, seeing his wife currently losing her ability to speak. “We perfectly understand. Thank you for taking care of her. Have a good day!”

With that you were finally free, standing up abruptly and clenching your bag in your hands as you bid your goodbye to your parents, now walking side by side with a national hero who had put his large arm around your waist like it was a usual thing. You still had a hard time accepting the fact it was Steve Rogers who had volunteered to save you. He was risking his privacy doing it - how did he know your mom or you wouldn’t run to paparazzi squad and claim you’re dating Captain America? It would surely bring him troubles.

Yet here you were, walking further and further from that little restaurant with him, unable to say a single word.

“Thank you so much, sir.” You barely whispered, and the man turned his head to you, smiling. “I don’t know what I’d do if you wouldn’t come.”

“Why are you calling me sir?” He laughed, shaking his head and rubbing your back affectionately. “I’m just Steve. Always happy to help a lady.”

Your cheeks were burning instantly, and you bit your lips, lowering your head and wondering how far did you have to walk together so your parents wouldn’t see you two parting ways. Hell, would your mom try to spy on you? It wouldn’t be surprising, actually.

So, you walked and walked until the restaurant became just a little spot somewhere far away.

“Thank you for your help.” You repeated, stopping in the middle of a street and making Steve frown, unable to understand why you weren’t willing to keep walking. “I’m so sorry I took so much of your time. You don’t have to accompany me any longer!”

“What?” He asked, looking at you with a slight concern.

“I mean, I’m sure my parents had long lost us in the crowd. Besides, we’re so far from them, So, um, you don’t have to keep pretending.”

“What are you talking about, sweetheart?”

Taking his sunglasses away, he gently drew you closer to him, and you watched him tilting his head to the side as he rubbed circles on the back of your hand. Steve’s smile was so tender it was able to make you melt, but the way his eyes lingered on you... You suddenly felt uneasy. Why was he reluctant to let you go?

“I’m saying I’m alright and I can continue on my own, si-” You got silent for a second as his gaze turned dark. “Steve.”

“Let’s not a make a scene, dear.” He smiled, giving you a kiss on the forehead while you froze on the spot. “I don’t want your mom to think things haven't been great between us. It’s gonna break her heart, you know?”

Before you had time to say something, confused and a little scared of the things Steve was talking about, he had forcefully dragged you along to a car parked out on the street and opened the door, quickly pushing you inside. He closed the door right when you decided it was time to scream for help.

_______________________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @void-hoechlin @abyssaint @heeeyitskay @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherubwrites @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lovelydarkdaydream @soleil-dor @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @ninefuckingoneone

#dark steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #steve rogers #captain america #mcu #mcu fanfiction #yandere #requests

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everlarkficexchange · 3 years

Text

Not today

Written by: @emilia206

Prompt 4: Trope: Jealousy Katniss. Modern AU Katniss Everdeen sees his ex boyfriend as the date of one of her coworkers in the company party. She shouldn’t care, because she broke with him, one year ago and still…. when their song plays, against her better judgements, she finds herself dancing with him. [submitted by @alwayseverlark]

Rating: Mature

Word count: 8062

British lingo you might be unaware of:

A-Level’s - Last form of examination before students go off to university.

Ladbrokes - betting shop

Tesco - food store

(If I left anything out, let me know)

A/N: Thank you to my wonderful beta @melting-starlight, on ao3 she’s Starlight_Wren.

Forlorn, she stares down at her lager, it’s the first moment of quiet she’s had since she entered the pub. Plutarch had been the first to drag her away, talking about everything from what his lunch was like to how much the station was missing her shows. She had only been able to nod and smile, making agreeable noises at the appropriate times, but otherwise letting all of his words wash over her. Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, Plutarch had bustled off through the crowd to go talk to another unsuspecting colleague. She had tried to crane her neck over the other patrons’ head, to see if she could spot either Johanna or Annie, the only reason she had relented and come to this thing. But before she could make any discernible recognition, Fulvia, Plutarch’s right hand woman, had sidled up behind her, saying that they simply must ‘catch up’. Ever straight to the point though, she had skipped pleasantries and gone right to the heart of the matter. What had she been doing this past year?

The answer was a pretty simple one, but for some reason that escaped Katniss, it needed lots of explanation. She had spent close to forty-five minutes getting her brain picked apart. Trying, to no avail, to explain to the silly woman the exact reason she had uprooted her and left everything behind to travel all over the globe. Meeting new people, not many, but some. Enough people, Katniss thought. At first, there hadn’t really been a point in it, other than she had to get away from the shit show that was her life. Five years she’d worked at that stupid radio station, blathering on about meaningless things that made her mind fog up with the mundanity of it all. And all she had gotten out of it was a small damp flat in the north of London, with expensive bills and an insufferable landlord. Five years of only seeing her little sister once, twice if she was lucky, a year. Five years of shattered dreams and a dead end job. And still, this woman could not understand why she would want to leave. Of course Katniss never said any of this to Fulvia, but it had been swimming around her head throughout the entirety of the conversation. Instead, she had given watered down reasons and held her tongue as Fulvia had gone on to say, “But what about that boyfriend of yours? I remember him being so supportive…”

She didn’t want to get into that, how she had left him behind. It had been a year and the wound that it had inflicted still ran too deep, was too painful to get into. Especially with nosy, judgy Fulvia. So, she had politely excused herself from the conversation, taking to the bar and ordering herself an overpriced pint. Fantastic. It wasn’t like she was strapped for cash or anything.

Having given up on searching for Annie and Johanna at this nightmarish reunion, she had found herself a quiet corner in the buzzing room, sitting on a lumpy sofa and setting her drink down on an aged wooden table that had ring marks on the surface from drinks overspilling. It wasn’t often that she thought about Peeta, having long since trained her mind to immediately turn and run in the other direction if any thoughts began leading her down that painful path. But now, with Fulvia bringing him up, and being surrounded by people who had all been privy to their relationship, it was only inevitable that she should think of him. Specifically, the last time she had seen him.

—————————–

His face had closed off, completely shuttering all emotions that would otherwise flick across his face. And still, as he stood, staring blankly at her, she continued talking. Trying to explain herself, explain why she just had to leave.

“Please Peeta, believe me when I say it isn’t you,” she whispered, “I just feel so trapped in my own life, and I feel as if I don’t leave now, I never will get anywhere.”

“What about us?” he replied, tone blank and neutral, but still betraying the underlying anger and confusion.

She shook her head sadly, tears falling unbidden from her eyes. Desperately wanting him to hold her and tell her it would be alright, but needing him to stay well away from her so that she could do this. Finish this, clean and precise as Johanna had told her to do it.

“Right,” Peeta said, voice hollow.

They stood there, silence engulfing the little flat. It was never silent in there, the generators downstairs always humming, her boiler constantly gurgling away, but it seemed even these held their breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“I think you should leave now,” Katniss said to her feet, not daring to look up at his face.

She stood in her kitchen, stock still, as if any movement from her would cause her to break and shatter on the linoleum tiles of the floor. She listened as Peeta collected his toothbrush and spare clothes. Katniss flinched at the sense of finality she felt when the door banged shut.

————————-

Their break-up had been anything but clean and precise, and it wasn’t a wonder considering that Katniss had been at the helm of it. It was ironic, really, that for five years, her income had depended on her being able to talk for hours about nonsensical things, always upbeat and on the ball for the listeners chiming in, but when it came to her own boyfriend, she hadn’t been able to get the words out right. She had made him think that it was him that was suffocating her, when in actuality it was everything. She was pushing thirty and already she could feel herself stagnating.

She wished that she could do it again, try not to make such a mess of it as she had done. How could she have known, though, the profound affect it seemed to have had on Peeta? He had always been so supportive of her decisions, only asking that she open up to him and be honest. Of course she hadn’t expected him to be completely OK with her decision, but she had been hoping that he would at least understand her reasoning. Instead, he had been angry and confused, perhaps even rightfully so, before he had completely shut down becoming cold and distant in the moments prior to him slamming out of her little home.

“Penny for your thoughts?” a perky voice said next to her, pulling Katniss out of her reverie.

Looking up, Katniss couldn’t help but smile at the big brown eyes that were peering down at her. Rue. Her intern from a year ago. She didn’t look much different, just a little older and worse for wear. But that’s what this job did to you, lured you in with promises of bigger and better ahead, before getting you trapped and very much stuck.

“You don’t want to know,” Katniss replied, shuffling over and making space for the young woman.

“Oh, and why’s that?” Rue asked, her lips quirked upwards in a smile.

“Neither thinking, nor talking about it will solve a thing,” she mumbled down at her glass before taking a prolonged drink from it. She reveled in the fizz and slightly bitter taste as it washed down her throat.

“Well, if you’re gonna be all closed off to me, your favourite intern, I’ll let you in on all of my issues to date,” Rue said, taking a sip from her own glass.

Katniss smirked. It was true that Rue was her favourite intern, but that wasn’t exactly a feat. Most interns that Katniss had been given the responsibility of taking care of had been so awful that they were fired within their first two weeks of working at the station.

“So, remember how you warned me before you left, that this job ‘will suck me dry of all inspiration and motivation’ whilst also ‘dashing my dreams and love for the craft’ but not before ‘restricting what me on what I can talk about, and instead giving me stupid shows that will make me want to die’?” Rue paused, taking a drink from her pint.

“Yes, I do recall telling you all of those things, I assume you’ve come to the conclusion that I was correct and that you should have saved yourself while you could,” Katniss said, trying not to gloat at the fact that she was at least right about something, and it wasn’t just her overreacting and being dramatic.

Rue nodded her head vigorously, her corkscrew curls bouncing, “Well, I’ll be honest. At the time, I thought you were just being dramatic, or maybe you were bitter about something, but you really were so right. I can’t get anyone to take me seriously or invest in any bigger show ideas, or get them to take on or promote more obscure artists. The sponsors continuously overlook me so that they can pour more money into presenters who have a body to boot. Even though that shouldn’t matter, ‘cause we’re on a fucking radio, nobody is looking at the face or body behind the voice anyway!”

“And as soon as I try to get Plutarch or Fulvia to give me a recommendation so that I can move to something a little more low key and less industrious, they tell me that I shouldn’t leave, that I have so much potential, and that it would be such a waste for me to go do something less mainstream, because how will I ever be recognised then?” Rue finished with a defeated groan, flopping back against the leather cushions.

Looking up at the ceiling, Rue asked, “How’d you get out? I mean for me, it’s just an endless cycle of early mornings, playing music that makes my ears bleed, and frustration that after all my hard work, I’ve just become another peppy girl on the radio.”

Katniss snorted at this, “Depressing, isn’t it? After all the analysing of different styles of music and poetry, it amounted to this.”

“Fuucckk,” Rue groaned at the ceiling fans, “It’s depressing because it’s so painfully true. Do you know how many hours I spent holed up in my room studying for my Music and English A-Levels just so I could at least get a seven, and now I’m stuck here.”

Katniss nodded her head, “Only ‘cause I did the same thing though. What were we thinking?”

“Ugh, I know! My mum told me that this was an ‘unsustainable career path’. I hate to say it, but I think she may have had a point.”

A crash came from the other side of the room, effectively interrupting their mutual venting session, a clattering of glasses fell to the floor and shattered, causing both Katniss and Rue to jump before turning around to see what happened. A flustered waiter apologised profusely to a skimpy blonde who looked upon him with narrowed green eyes, and a stain that looked an awful lot like red wine spilled on her yellow dress. The few people who had been applauding the waiters slip up began to slow their claps when they realised that the unfortunate woman who now had a stain across the front of her dress, was not taking it on the chin as it were. In fact, she looked like she was a few seconds from throwing a fit.

“Oof, would not want to be that guy,” Rue remarked, “Glimmer looks about ready to go get his ass fired.”

Katniss turned to look at Rue, who was leaning her chin on the back of the sofa, “How’d you know her name?”

Rue made a face, “She’s a presenter at the radio station, she does the show that Annie used to do.”

“Shit, really,” Katniss said, blowing air through her teeth to make a low whistling sound. “That show was one of the more popular ones.”

“Still is. Rumour has it that the company hired her to replace Annie, who was making noises to leave, so they sent her Glimmer as an intern. Annie left a week later, claiming that the work environment had become insufferable.”

Katniss had turned back to watch as the waiter bent to pick up the broken glass, whilst so-called Glimmer rolled her eyes impatiently at another waiter who was handing her paper towels to try wipe up the mess on her dress. While watching, Katniss listened intently to what Rue was saying, “People weren’t surprised when she quit. Glimmer is quite literally the epitome of a toxic work environment.”

“Oh well, this just makes me all the more glad that I left,” Katniss said. Annie had emailed her when she’d quit, but hadn’t given a reason why. At the time, Katniss had just assumed it was because both Johanna and herself had already left, but this must have been the breaking point for her.

“Oh, she’s not even the worst of it,” Rue said, a cynical smile touching her lips as they watched another woman with jet black hair and pinched features walk up to Glimmer, she took the paper towels from the waitress and threw them down to the floor, yelling something unintelligible, “That’s Clove. As you can see, she’s got quite a temper on her. She’s the one who replaced Johanna as DJ. The two of them together are quite… formidable.”

Katniss turned in her seat to grab her drink from the table so she could drink and watch this scene unfold in front of her. She would be lying if she said that it wasn’t just a teeny bit entertaining. Taking a sip from her mellowing beer, she almost choked when she saw who was joining the show. Blond ashen curls, broad shoulders, and a slight limp from a rugby injury that had never quite healed. It was Peeta. Her Peeta, consoling this shallow, pitiful, blonde bimbo.

She could feel Rue’s eyes on her, watching for a reaction. Katniss swallowed painfully, oblivious to the taste, eyes glued to what was happening in front of her very eyes. Maybe it wasn’t him. It couldn’t possibly be him. There was no way, absolutely no fucking way, that the Peeta Mellark that she had known all throughout secondary school, was even remotely affiliated with such a cow. Deep down, Katniss knew that she was possibly being a little harsh, but jealousy, lots of it, was rearing its ugly green head, skewing her opinions.

“Yeah, and then there’s that,” Rue uttered, “reason number fuck knows what as to why I ‘strongly dislike’ Glimmer.”

Katniss breathed deeply, shoving down the irrational, possessive anger that was overcoming her. She cleared her throat, which had become exceptionally tight in the last two minutes, “Are they… an item?”

“I wouldn’t say so,” Rue said, turning around to face the other way again, “as far as I know, they’re just fuck buddies. Who knows, though, maybe he does the wine and dining as well.”

Katniss, following suit, also turned around, sitting stoically, and taking slow sips from her sweating drink. “So he’s fucking her.”

Rue nodded, sighing a little as she did so, “I know it might not be my place to comment-”

“It probably isn’t then,” Katniss interrupted, wanting very much to go back to her hotel room now.

“But,” Rue continued, “you were really fucking dense to let that man walk away from you. I have no idea what happened between the two of you, but even I can appreciate that ass, and oh my god those shoulders,” she pretended to fan herself, before turning incredulous, “and he’s not even my type.”

Katniss snorted at this, turning around for a quick second, to survey the specimen that was now patting down an incensed Glimmer. She couldn’t deny that he still looked sexy as fuck. He definitely seemed to have fared this year a little better than her. Turning back around, she looked down at what she was wearing. A simple dress that she’d bought from a charity shop when she was sixteen, it was light blue and the material was soft and light, perfect for the humid weather that London summers were, but it did look as if it might be on its last legs. Her hair was loose for once, and hung in ebony waves down her back, but otherwise she hadn’t made much of an effort, as could be seen by her scruffy trainers and mismatched socks. She didn’t need to impress these people anyway.

“Yeah, stupid indeed,” Katniss muttered.

They sat there then, silence washing over them, until the unmistakable sound of a speaker system being plugged in echoed throughout the crowded room. Katniss looked up to see her friend climbing up onto the bar, a little wobbly on her feet, but her voice was commanding no less.

“Alrighty, I’ve been asked to do a little set tonight, but because I forgot to set up a good playlist that will please all of you old folk, I’ll be taking requests,” she made to get off the bar, but paused mid-step hollering across the room, “And if I think your song request is shit I won’t play it, feel free to take it personally.”

Katniss didn’t really care much for the offer to request music, she was just relieved to know that Johanna had, in fact, shown up. She had been wondering whether either of her ex-work-colleagues had actually bothered. Knowing that Johanna was here, though where she’d been all night was something Katniss would like to know, meant that Annie was probably here as well.

Rue, on the other hand, immediately got up. Kissing Katniss on the cheek, she proclaimed, “Oh, I have a song that Jo simply must play.”

She walked off into the crowd, but abruptly turned back, looking down at Katniss, who was still cocooned in the soft leather of the sofa, “Also, if you get any interesting job offers don’t be scared to recommend me,” with a wink, she waltzed off again.

Alone once again, and trying desperately to distract herself from the ‘pat down’ Peeta was assuredly still giving Glimmer, Katniss gulped down the rest of her pint, before standing to go get another.

Waiting at the bar for the barmaid to get to her drink, she tapped out a rhythm on the polished wood. Distracted, she almost didn’t notice the familiar opening chords to a song she hadn’t let herself listen to in a year.

Johanna’s voice sounded over the speaker system, “For all you lovesick idiots here tonight, Don’t Stop Believin’ by Journey.”

Katniss’ breath stilled in her chest, this must have been some sick joke the universe was playing on her. Despite herself, Katniss searched the room for the familiar face that she had once danced to this with at prom. Scanning the crowd, her eyes finally landed on a seemingly just as stunned Peeta Mellark, his face so pale and pinched he looked like he was about to throw up. He, too, looked to be scanning the crowd. He couldn’t know that she was here, could he? She knew that she should probably shrink back into the shadows, or, better yet, vacate the premises and head back to her hotel room, to avoid any unnecessary drama that she most certainly did not need. Yet, against her better judgement, she stood her ground, not actively looking to be seen, but not hiding from sight either.

Her eyes stayed on him, noticing with a missed beat of her heart that Glimmer and Clove were both conspicuously absent. The song had already passed the first verse when Peeta’s eyes finally locked on hers. His eyes widened in surprise, but beneath it was still the same warmth and affection that had always been. Her sharp intake of breath told her all she needed to know, those baby blues could still make her knees weak, could still make her feel like she was adrift and untethered in a desolate ocean, with him being the only tether to reality. Their gazes locked on one another as the second verse began;

A singer in a smoky room

The smell of wine and cheap perfume

Peeta’s eyes stared holes into her, and for a moment it was as if no time had passed, as if he was standing on the other side of the school’s assembly hall as an entire year group of nervous sweaty eighteen year olds danced the evening away to overplayed 80’s tracks. Katniss was even greeted with the familiar erratic beating of her heart, wishing and hoping that he’d just bottle up the nerve and ask her already!

That night, she had been the one to walk across the dance floor to ask him to dance, but tonight, it seemed it would be Peeta who would take the first tentative steps towards her.

For a smile they can share the night

It goes on and on, and on, and on

Drink forgotten, Katniss stepped away from the bar, walking towards the people already congregating to dance on a small open space on the floor. The first chorus sounded through the room;

Strangers, waitin’

Up and down the boulevard

Their shadows

Searchin’ in the night

Streetlights, people

Livin’ just to find emotion

Hidin’ somewhere in the night

They met in the middle, and Katniss looked up at him through her lashes.

“For old times sake,” Peeta murmured down to her, offering his hand.

She tried not to let his remark sting, that their relationship is in fact in the past. That he had moved on from her, that she should too. But falling into his arms, head resting over his breast bone listening to his heart thumping away, letting him sway them to the music, felt so natural and familiar. The tears stung behind her eyes, and she bit her lip to stop herself from sobbing out loud. She didn’t want to be sad, to mar this song with her regrets, when it was accompanied by so many good and happy memories. Of the two of them messing around in his kitchen, or her bedroom.

So, she swallowed down her tears, and let herself fall back in time to when things were simpler. Letting the music and words wash over her, rejuvenating her weary soul.

Workin’ hard to get my fill

Everybody wants a thrill

Payin’ anything to roll the dice

Just one more time

Some will win

Some will lose

Some were born to sing the blues

Oh, the movie never ends

It goes on and on, and on, and on

She laughed when he spun her, then recaptured her in his arms. He swooped low, before lifting them back up and spinning them in slow circles.

Strangers waitin’

Up and down the boulevard

Their shadows

Searchin’ in the night

Streetlights, people

Livin’ just to find emotion

Hidin’ somewhere in the night

She took the lead, moving them faster, along to the tune of the song. Pulling away from his embrace, but holding on to his hands, as she spun herself to lean her back against his chest with his arms crossed protectively over her.

Don’t stop believin’

Hold on to that feelin’

Streetlight, people

Don’t stop, believin’

Hold on

Streetlights, people

As the song began to slow again, and Steve Perry ad-libbed his way through the end of the song, Peeta turned her again so that they were pressed chest to chest. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and their steps became so minuscule they could do it on a pie plate if they wished to do so. She stared up into his bottomless blue eyes, a genuine smile lighting up her face for the first time this evening.

“I missed you,” he whispered.

Her smile faltered slightly, and she looked down, ashamed at how easily she had let herself fall back into his arms. The moment of magic had ended, and she was thrown back into the icy cold reality of her life. For christ’s sake they hadn’t spoken in a year, and now suddenly they were dancing and laughing on the dance floor!

Don’t stop believin’

Hold on to that feelin’

Streetlight, people

He turned them one last time. He leant his cheek on the top of her head, sighing quietly as if knowing about the beratement Katniss was giving herself in her head. He swayed them as the song faded out. She pulled away, chancing a glance up at his face. The pain she had inflicted onto him shone through his eyes, and though it killed her to do it, she could only pull further out of his arms, backing away. He watched after her, arms limp at his sides, and she turned, pushing through the crowd.

“Oi, watch it!” Someone called after her as she shoved past people.

Finally, after stepping on numerous toes and elbowing a few people in the sides, she made it over to the makeshift DJ table. Johanna was leaning against it, chewing on a toothpick as she announced in a lazy drawl the next song. Behind her shoulder she could see Annie leaning heavily into some guy with bronzed curls and tanned skin, Katniss thought that she had seen him before in a couple of Annie’s instagram posts.

“Ahhh, Brainless,” Johanna called out when she spotted a breathless Katniss standing before the table, “here to make a song request? Maybe another one that you can dance to with lover boy.”

“What the fuck, Jo?” Katniss cried out, “Did you put that song on just to mess with my head? ‘Cause it sure as hell worked.” Katniss ran her shaking hands through her hair, not caring if she messed it up, or if it got tangled.

Johanna raised her eyebrows in surprise, “Wait, you don’t actually believe I put that song on, do you?”

“Well, who else, Johanna?!”

“I didn’t even know you were here up until five minutes ago, let alone him!” Johanna spat out, incredulity lacing her voice, “And besides, I’m only taking requests this evening. I did let everyone know,” she sniffed, rolling her eyes.

“Ok fine, if it wasn’t you, then who?” Katniss hissed, “Because I will start throwing arms if I have to, Jo.”

“Jeez, don’t get your knickers all in a twist, it was only a little dancey,” Johanna teased. Looking at Katniss’ bemused face, she relented, “If you promise to not beat the living lights out of her, I’ll tell.”

“‘Kay fine, I promise,” Katniss said, her anger subsiding a little. Whoever it was, it wasn’t their fault that she couldn’t just leave when she definitely should have, “Just tell me who.”

Johanna nodded her head in the direction of the bar, Katniss followed her gaze, eyes greeted with an apologetic looking Rue. Rue grimaced a little, apparently having watched Katniss’ outburst. At least she looked sorry, Katniss thought.

Her anger having dissipated, the feeling of regret and sadness settled cold and heavy in her stomach. She deflated against the table, feeling very tired all of a sudden, “I need a smoke,” she muttered, “Lighter,” she held out her hand.

Johanna grumbled under her breath, fishing through her pockets for a lighter. “Give it back after,” she warned, slapping it into Katniss’ outstretched palm.

Katniss weaved her way through the crowds once more, being a little more careful to not piss off so many people this time, until she got to the coat rack next to the door. The coat rack itself was leaning over under the weight of all the coats draped over the top of it. After some digging around, Katniss found her light jean jacket and pulled it out from underneath the mountain of others piled up on top of it. Pulling it on, she pushed open the door to the pub and stepped out into the night.

It looked like the sun had just gone down, streaks of orange fading into the sky as dusk settled over the stinking, sweltering city. It had cooled off quite a bit from earlier, and Katniss huddled herself further into her jacket, trying to leech off any residual warmth from it. She walked down the shallow stone steps, found herself a place to light her cigarette. Leaning against the cold brick wall behind her, not caring if she got her coat or dress dirty. She fished a loose cigarette out of her coat pocket, and lit the fag, taking a long drag from it, breathing it back out into the cooling air.

“Those things kill, you know,” A voice sounded from behind her. She scowled at how it made her heart leap hopefully in her chest.

“I know,” she almost growled, wanting him to fuck off back to Glimmer already. She couldn’t deal with having him thrust back into her life, pretending like nothing happened between them. Like she hadn’t irreparably fucked up their entire relationship, just because she felt ‘claustrophobic’.

“I thought you were quitting?” Peeta asked, walking to stand next to her and pulling out his own cigarette.

She passed him Johanna’s lighter, “You can’t talk,” she snorted as she watched him light his, “And anyway, I am. I just keep emergency ones in all of my coats, and in a few of my trousers.”

Peeta laughed at this, “Yeah, sure does sound like you’re quitting.”

“Hey,” she protested, “I never keep a lighter on me, that way I have to ask someone, and then they’re also accountable for my inevitable lung cancer.”

Peeta’s eyebrows rose at this, and he took a puff from his own cancer stick, “Oh yeah, and how long did it take you do that mental gymnastics.”

Katniss only rolled her eyes, and they both stood next to each other staring out at the street. They watched as a bus pulled up at the stop, and an old man stumbled out, hobbling into the Ladbrokes opposite. A siren blared somewhere in the distance. Two extremely drunk men sat on the steps a good ten metres away from them, but were loud enough for their slurred words to reach the two.

“Listen Katniss, about before,” Peeta started, breaking their comfortable silence, “I didn’t mean to make you feel crowded or guilty, or anything like that.” He looked to her, but she stared resolutely ahead, taking slow small puffs from her cigarette.

“It’s fine,” she finally said, “forget about it. I probably shouldn’t have even danced with you in the first place, what with you being with Glimmer and all.”

“Ah, shit,” Peeta breathed out, “I didn’t think you knew about that.”

“Yeah well, I do,” Katniss snapped.

Peeta looked as if he wanted to say something, but Katniss cut him off before he could, “I really don’t want to know.”

Peeta nodded his head. They were quiet for a moment.

“I mean, it’s not like you’re not allowed anyway,” Katniss said, scuffing the toe of her already scruffy trainer against the cracked pavement.

Peeta huffed out a bemused, short-lived laugh, “Care to explain that, whilst we’re out here talking civilly?”

“What?” Katniss asked, “Are you asking why I broke up with you?”

Peeta nodded his head once more.

Katniss sighed, “I feel like I’ve told myself and everyone around me the same explanation about a million times, but standing here it doesn’t feel like enough.”

“Well, that’s convenient,” Peeta whispered.

Katniss sighed, trying not to sound too exasperated. What’s it to him anyway, she thought. “Look Peeta, I told you before, and I’ll say it again. It wasn’t you.”

“Doesn’t mean I’ll ever stop asking myself if I did something,” Peeta said.

Katniss finally turned to look up at him, as he stared up at the darkening sky, searching it for the few visible stars, “We’re not even thirty yet, Peeta, I’m not ready to settle. I wasn’t last year, and I definitely am not this year. And I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if you told me you weren’t ready yet either, and you’re allowed to be with whoever you want, even if it is someone as silly and shallow as Glimmer. I guess it’s better to get your mid-life crisis out the way now,” she said with a smirk, before sobering and adding quietly, “I’m not completely oblivious Peeta, it’s not like I don’t see her appeal.”

Peeta looked down at her, opening his mouth, she was sure, to deny that Glimmer’s big boobs were the reason. She held up her hand to stop him, “Who knows though, maybe someone’ll convince me to come to this thing again next year, and I’ll see you again. Hopefully with someone other than Glimmer. And just like this year, I’ll steal you for a dance, and then lure you outside for a smoke, and we’ll catch up,” she paused for dramatic affect, stealing herself for what she was going to say next, “After that, you’ll kiss me, right up against the cold brick wall,” she watched as Peeta’s eyes widened at her bold statement.

Maybe it was her pint of beer that had made her so free and uncaring with her sentiments. Though Katniss would never describe herself as a lightweight, she admitted to herself that it had been a good six weeks since she’d had a proper drink. On second thought, she remembered the last time she drank before tonight being a little over a week ago, and it had been a cider. She grimaced at the thought. Fuck, she mused, when did I become a lightweight? Peeta cleared his throat uncomfortably, prompting her to continue, but unsure of whether she was finished or not. Katniss mentally shook herself before finishing in a low, sultry voice, “Just like you’re going to do this year.”

“Fuck,” Peeta breathed out, and Katniss watched him visibly struggle to swallow. She tried, and failed, to suppress her smug little smirk, that she could still affect him like this. It eased the green beast within her, the one that had wanted to stamp her foot and cry out earlier when she had witnessed Peeta wiping down the front of Glimmer’s dress. She shook her head. She didn’t want to think of Glimmer, Peeta was out here with her now, that must count for something, right?

“Are you, umm - being serious?” Peeta stuttered, and despite herself Katniss grinned at how flustered he was getting, the pink staining his cheeks betraying how agitated he really was, “Or are you just pulling my leg?”

Katniss took a long drag from her fag, sucking on it until it was down to the stub, “Do I look like I’m joking, Mellark?”

She watched as his pupils dilated even more in the darkening night, until the blue of his irises were only thin rings around the black pits of his desire. She reveled in being able to do this to him still, after all this time. It comforted her, in a weird, possessive, unhealthy sort of way.

“No,” he whispered, voice hoarse and barely audible. He dropped his cigarette on the floor, not even bothering to stamp it out before stepping forwards. Large hands came to a rest on her waist, pushing her further back against the wall. She bit back a slight moan at the way he seemed to shelter her, the stark contrast of the cold wall behind her, nipping at the backs of her legs, and the heat that enmantend from his body and radiated onto her. She took a deep shuddering breath, pushing her chest upwards against his. Her hand shook slightly as she stubbed out the remnants of her cigarette against the wall next to her, before letting it fall to the ground as well.

Their faces were so close now, their mouths only a hair’s breadth apart, all it would take is for one of them to lean in, to close the tantalisingly small space between them. “Tell me you want me to,” Peeta uttered, breath fanning her face. She bit her lip, a sly grin gracing her features.

She leant up on her tiptoes, tracing a path to his ear lobe with her breath, “Peeta Mellark, I want you to kiss me up against this brick wall, until I’m breathless and my knees are weak.”

He groaned loudly, and she was about to tell him to be quiet when his lips descended greedily on hers. Knocking the breath right out of her, as he sucked and bit tenderly against first her top and then her bottom lip. She whimpered, admitting to herself that she had missed the way it felt to be kissed by someone who cared. Who didn’t just do it as a way to get into her underwear.

It was his turn to smile smugly, he pulled away from her, and she chased his lips with her own. Wanting them back, wanting him to plunge and plunder. She huffed out a frustrated growl when he moved even further away. She opened her eyes, taking in his face that grinned with feigned innocence down at her, “What’s the matter Everdeen?” He asked teasingly, “Knees not weak enough yet?”

She glared at him, he knew exactly what he was doing, and she wasn’t having any of it, not tonight. Lifting her hands to his hair, she played with the blond locks, smiling up at him demurely. She would tell him what she wanted step by step if necessary, but she didn’t think it would be. Cocking her head to the side, she mirrored his look of feigned innocence, before tangling her fingers into the shorter hairs at the back of his head, and pulling his lips back down to hers. He grunted against her, and she opened her mouth ever so slightly in invitation.

It took her all of two seconds to lose all inhibitions, Peeta’s hands moved up from their resting spot on her waist, one cradling the back of her neck and one stroking up and down her back in a motion that made Katniss giddy with desire. Their tongues met in a dance, reacquainting themselves. Peeta’s dove into her mouth, rediscovering everything he already knew about her.

Peeta placed his leg in between her own, which had opened a little of their own accord, bringing it upwards slightly, daring her to grind up against it. Stubborn as ever, though, Katniss refused to take the bait. Knowing him, he would probably tease her, pull away before she could really get going. But when he tugged on her bottom lip with his teeth, she relented. She could feel her knees turning into jelly, forcing her to slump down onto his leg. She ground down on it experimentally, the rough material of his jeans rubbing up against her boy shorts. Katniss swore into his mouth, and did it again, letting the motion stimulate her throbbing center. She was almost glad that he couldn’t feel the intensity of the heat that seemed to be pouring from her core, but another part of her needed him to know that he could still do this to her. Could still drive her to do halfway insane things, like letting him ravage her up against a wall with all of her ex colleagues a mere few metres away. Pulling his head down further, she held him there, desperate to drink more of him in.

“Katniss,” he whispered against her mouth, before diving right back in.

It was her turn to grunt at the power in which he started almost devouring her mouth, she could only cling to the locks of hair wrapped around her fingers, in hopes that she wouldn’t just crumple to the floor. She was rocking against his leg in a steady rhythm, each stroke of his rough denim trousers against her center making her more frantic, desperate for more. Her nerve endings felt frayed, threatening to short circuit and send her spiralling through the abyss. Peeta continued to busy himself with her mouth, pulling away before delving back in, more thorough and rough each time, so that she could only whimper helplessly into his mouth.

It was when the hand that had been stroking leisurely circles into her spine crept towards her front before meandering downwards, that Katniss came somewhat to her senses. She stopped his hand with one of her own, before it could get to the hemline of the skirt to her dress. She pulled away from his lips that had been stroking soft sublime on hers, and looked at him. Eyes blown wide, lips swollen and red from kissing, blond hair tousled and mussed from all her incessant tugging. She was sure she was mirroring this disheveled appearance back at him. He lowered his leg from where it had stayed resting against her, but his hand stayed trapped between their two bodies. If it weren’t so painfully obvious how much they had missed each other, it would be comical how fast and hard they’d fallen back into heated touches and frantic kisses.

She took a deep breath, wondering if she should apologise, or at least explain, but her brain was still fogged with arousal, and she was finding it very hard to look him in the eye. Instead, she got back on to her tip toes and brought her arms up around his neck, pulling him close to her for a hug. She rested her head against his shoulder, and he slowly brought his arms around her waist, holding her to him as well.

“One day, Peeta,” she began, talking into his neck, “one day…”

“But not today,” he finished for her.

She nodded and squeezed him tighter, a hundred memories of them together flooding her mind, and for the second time this evening she had to fight back the urge to sob. She could only be relieved that he had understood, understood why she couldn’t let him do that, not now, and certainly not here.

He squeezed her back, and she swore she felt him inhaling her smell, at any other time this would have turned her on beyond reason, but now it only saddened her. How had she managed to fuck it up again? He pressed a quick kiss into the juncture of where her neck met her shoulder, before releasing her from his grasp.

She wobbled, still a little unsteady on her feet, but managed to start walking in the direction of her bus stop. As she walked past the two drunk men that were still sitting on the stone steps to the pub, she heard one of them call out to her.

“Is the show over, sweetheart?” he asked, sarcasm along with whatever he’d had to drink lacing his voice, “That’s a shame, me an’ Chaff here were really startin’ to ge’ into it.”

Katniss turned to look at the man who had said it, scathing reply waiting at the tip of her tongue, but before she could say anything, the other man, Chaff she assumed, slurred out;

“Won’t you give an ol’ man a kiss before you go?” The two men guffawed as he made kissy faces at her.

“Arseholes,” Katniss muttered under her breath.

The man with salt and pepper hair down to his shoulders called after her again, though all traces of amusement were gone from his voice. He sounded surprisingly sober when he told her, “I see the way you have him wrapped around your finger, sweetheart, you could live a hundred lifetimes and still not deserve what he gave you tonight,” he burped loudly and continued, “One day he’ll realise that, he’ll realise that he’s better than tha’, be’er than you.”

Katniss tried to ignore his words as she waited at the traffic light for the little green man to pop up so she could cross the road, but they still made her blood run cold, because maybe he was right. She turned her head to the side, waiting impatiently for the cars to come to a slow at the T-junction, when the old man, who had since left the betting shop, added his own snarky comment to the fray. If she had known how many people were watching them, she wouldn’t have let it get that far, or go on for so long.

“When do you think he’ll notice the exact degree of your indifference?” He asked in a voice that was weathered and old, but still demanded her attention. He had posed his comment as a question, but he said it as if he already knew the answer. She wasn’t indifferent, she thought, but doubt coursed through her. Hadn’t she just used him to prove a point? A stupid petty point, that she was better than Glimmer. She shook her head at the notion, it had just been a drunken mistake, nothing more.

She turned her head to face the decrepit old man, biting out a response, “Those are some awfully big words for a filthy old beggar, let’s hope you don’t choke on ‘em.”

The old man threw his head back and laughed, his cracked voice making it sound more like a cackle than anything. To her surprise the man actually did start choking, on his own blood. He bent forwards, crouching low as he spat blood to the floor.

“Gross,” Katniss muttered, before hurrying across the road. To hell with the traffic, she thought, she just needed to get the fuck out of here.

The shame and regret were already starting to curl themselves around her, and she felt almost sick with it. She was once again being reminded of how easily being around Peeta could fuck with her head, how it could make her do things that she otherwise wouldn’t do. That she’d sworn to herself wouldn’t happen again. Because, yes, her drink might have had something to do with it, but it was also him, he was intoxicating. The moment she had noticed he was in the room, she had wanted him, needed him. And it might be true that she could make him feel the same way, but people never seemed to see that he was just as good at it as she was. He was always the sweet golden boy, who had had the misfortune of falling in love with the likes of her.

She looked across the street when she arrived at the bus stop. The pub was pouring light from it’s windows and she heard the music playing. Peeta had already disappeared, and Katniss wondered how much he had heard. She hoped none of it. The old man was shuffling into the Tesco next door to the Ladbrokes, and the two men were still sat outside the pub, drinking from flasks. She looked up at the timetable that the bus stop provided, and cursed under her breath when she saw that her bus wouldn’t be arriving for another seven minutes.

She was about to start walking down the highstreet, so that she wouldn’t have to stand, waiting like a sitting duck, when her phone vibrated in her coat pocket with an incoming message.

Pulling it out of the pocket, she read what it said.

Johanna Mason [Sent 10:21pm]: Where are you? I’m hungry and bored, wanna get smth to eat?

Katniss considered ignoring the message, but her stomach rumbled in response to the thought of food.

Katniss Everdeen [Sent 10:22pm]: At the bus stop across the road. Don’t you have a set?

Johanna Mason [Sent 10:22pm]: Ofc you are. Yh I do, but any moron can do this. These song requests are driving me insane tho, so… food?

Katniss Everdeen [Sent 10:23pm]: Yh alright, what tho?

Johanna Mason [Sent 10:24pm]: I could really go for a kebab… and a smoke. We’re leaving now.

Katniss looked up from her phone. Shit. Johanna’s lighter. Peeta still had it. She watched as Johanna banged open the doors to the pub. Trailing after her was a wobbly Annie and the man from earlier. Katniss looked around her, hoping one of the many corner shops littering the street were still open, but they were all depressingly closed. Katniss glared at the closed signs on all the shop doors as if their existence offended her eyes, because in that moment, they really did.

She’d get that lighter back - she turned and saw the group crossing the road - though, maybe not today.

#emilia206 #alwayseverlark #prompt 4 #Springtime Edition 2021 #submission

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vanaera · 5 years

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The Heart Holiday | Act 1 | myg

Synopsis: Valentine’s Day is declared as an official holiday. However, private companies’ standards dictate it’s only for the people who are currently in a relationship. Unluckily for Y/N, she doesn’t have this year’s PRS’ (Proof of Relationship Status) “in a relationship” box ticked – the only ticket out she can have to enjoy one paid week of holiday leave away from her hellish job. And more unfortunately for Y/N, everyone around her is oh so conveniently currently committed in a relationship. Except for one person: Min Yoongi, Y/N’s biggest critic in every pitch meeting, the picky guy who always picks on her, and the most annoying jerk of the century. Desperate for that holiday leave, Y/N strikes Yoongi up with an offer: Fake date each other two weeks before February 14, just enough time for the Department of Relationship Management (DRM) to consider processing your PRSs. After Valentine’s Day, they will go back to their own ways and never speak about whatever that may happen during the plan. Good, plain, and simple. That is until, Yoongi uncharacteristically oh so enthusiastically agrees to Y/N’s offer, leaving her thinking that she may have bitten something too much more than she can chew.

Characters: Yoongi x Female Reader

AU/ Trope: Office AU (Creatives manager!yoongi x PA!reader), enemies to lovers, fake dating

Genre: fluff, angst, comedy (the triple t(h)reat)

Wordcount: 11, 798

Warnings: Lots of curses from two emotionally-constipated characters (PG-15 Rating)

A/N | This fic is in part with FWL’s Valentine’s project, The Luv Library: Romance. I had this premise about a Valentine’s holiday for a while and finally, I got to use it for this fic.

next | series masterlist

Ten seconds are enough to look at Min Yoongi. Two seconds to look at his unkempt, unprofessional, and stupid fringes that nonsensically cover his already small eyes. Three to look at his stupid, smug smile. Another two for his overly-confident stance—leaned forward in his chair, elbows on the table, hands clasping together—as if he’s better and of higher power than anyone else around the room when he’s just a measly representative of the day for the Creatives Team. And the last three seconds—they are enough to look at his mocking eyes, his jeering gaze, and the arrogant quirk of his brow.

This is the same look he gave to Y/N when he got promoted ahead of her. This is the same look he flashed to Y/N when he berated every word choice in her reports. And, this is the same look in his face when he ruined her presentation which could have been her ticket way out from this hellish job. Smug, arrogant, and proud, Min Yoongi is set to ruin Y/N’s life. And all Y/N could do now is glare at him and hope her eyes could set him on fire so it will be easy for hell to swallow him up and—

“Y/N?”

Y/N whips her head to her right, “S-sorry?”

Nancy Kim clicks her tongue, “Why are you just standing there, glaring at the windows? I told you to distribute the copies among the room.”

“R-right,” Y/N gulps and rushes forward. She hands the copies of last month’s Travel Loca issues among the representative of each department. Gracie from the Marketing Team sneaks her a small smile, which Y/N returns. However, that smile falls into a frown when she reaches the devil himself.

“Good morning, Y/N,” Min Yoongi greets, chin rested on his palm. When Y/N doesn’t greet back, Yoongi takes it upon himself to wink at her. With a huff, Y/N slams down the copy on the table in front of him, enough for the glossy, firm cover page to hit his pile of notes and cause some pages to fly off the table.

“Thank you, Y/N,” Nancy calls out, sighing. She waves away at Y/N and the latter takes it as a cue to sit back on her chair. Nancy leans back in her huge black chair, “Okay, let’s get the ball rolling. Now tell me something I don’t know.”

Y/N seats herself on the chair by the corner of the room, behind Nancy’s chair, far from the round meeting table. Every team representative starts to report their progress last month and their suggestions for the next, next month’s issue. Meanwhile, Min Yoongi is still busy picking up his notes on the floor. When he’s gathered them back, now in a sloppy stack, he looks from his crouched position and flashes Y/N his middle finger. She flashes back a finger at him, grinning. Y/N looks down at her small pocket notebook.

“Y/N – 1. Yoongi – 0.”

So far, this morning is really good.

Y/N hates Min Yoongi, and this is beyond an understatement. She hates him so much that the word “hate” started to become insufficient to describe her tantamount distaste for that man. Y/N blames his last name for that. “Min” should not be how his last name spelled. It should be M-E-A-N because that man is beyond mean.

When Y/N first met Yoongi, she knew there’s something off with him. He stands so arrogantly, so prideful as if he deserved every bit of the floor space of Travel Loca’s Main Office when he just got hired because there’s no other job-seeker that has actually applied. Yoongi looks at other people as if he’s any much greater than them. Lazy eyes, far-off gaze, indifferent façade—he just looks at you as if he’s listening when he’s actually just hearing so he can make some witty comeback. And Yoongi talks like a dictator know-it-all. He corrects every word people say here and there, like “Y/N, are you sure it’s ‘demonstrate,’ not ‘visualize’? We can’t physically see something if there’s nothing to see,” or “Y/N, you shouldn’t say ‘Xerox.’ It should be ‘photocopy.’ Xerox is just a brand, our junior high teacher told us so,” as if every word anyone says but him, will always be wrong. Yoongi talks as if no one but him will always be right and that everything around him does not deserve a bit of his attention unless they prove their worth to him.

And it frustrates Y/N to no end that no one seems to see his real form but her. Because apparently, Yoongi is “amazing.” Yoongi knows a lot of foreign places, having traveled to Malta, New Zealand, Hawaii, and yaddah yaddah, making his first-hand knowledge essential to the Writing Department. Yoongi has a lot of expertise in various editing apps, and he’s willing to teach the tricks and nicks to it to anybody. Anybody but Y/N. Because behind closed doors, Y/N knows his true face: Min Yoongi is a thick-skinned, double-faced bitch. That even if his name is on the tip of the tongue of anyone around the office every single morning, his quick promotion as manager of the Creatives Team a never-ending topic starter, Y/N knew the real story. Because Min Yoongi started out as Nancy’s Personal Assistant…just like Y/N.

Nancy Kim is the best photojournalist in the history of travel magazines. God-tier even, because when Nancy is just an intern in The Traveler’s Foot, she wrote the best articles Y/N has ever read. It didn’t matter if they were about a cliché tourist spot that has been featured over and over again or something bizarre that could make anyone wonder someone in their right mind would actually go there. Nancy is the goddess of travel journaling and Y/N obsessively consumed every article she wrote during her entire senior high and college life. So, to be able to get accepted in a company Nancy built, as Nancy’s personal assistant, is a sweet as fuck dream come true. Y/N didn’t care if she has to go home by 12 A.M. or 1 A.M. as Nancy said PA’s always have to leave the office after their bosses left. Nancy just shows the dedication to work one must have. Y/N didn’t find it tiresome when Nancy has to send her back-and-forth for errands both for work and personal life. She’s learning how to be resourceful while being good at time-management all at the same time. She’s learned a lot from Nancy. So, seeing Min Yoongi be so lax at work after getting hired frayed Y/N’s nerves to no end.

Yoongi doesn’t keep a tab on Nancy’s schedules just like Y/N does. He says there’s no reason for such rush to keep every event on track because Nancy will just cancel or push forward them anyway. It’s true, Nancy does sometimes mess up the week calendar Y/N arranged for her, but still, not tabbing anything on your work diary is still an evident proof Yoongi slacks of. He even takes a nap in between work hours for God’s sake. Yoongi also likes to talk behind Nancy’s back: of how inconveniencing, overbearing, and unnecessarily over-the line abuser she is as a boss. He tells this to Y/N day in and day out. Yoongi even mocked Y/N’s work ethic as a “willing subservience to work slavery.” He mercilessly reduced her dedication to work as blind obedience to an authority for the sake of monthly paychecks instead of hard, honest efforts to learn the essential skills in travel journalism.

And, it’s not a miracle no one finds out about this. Because when Yoongi is indeed caught, he finds one loophole in his and Y/N’s dynamic as co-PA’s for Nancy and implicitly, oh so subtly, turns it around against Y/N. Y/N remembers one time when Nancy berated them two for not inserting her friend Rosa’s son’s first birthday party into the 6 PM slot of one Monday in March. After her long sermon, Yoongi apologized for not encoding it into Nancy’s Schedule Work Sheet. Y/N handles Nancy’s Schedule Work Sheet, not Yoongi. Nancy knows this. So, after her 9-12 shift that same Tuesday, Nancy reminded Y/N of her replaceability in Travel Loca during one of the most tension-filled elevator rides in her life. She went home to her flatmate, Mina, in tears which did not permit her to get an ounce of sleep. Y/N turns up the next day at work, red eyes and red nose close to make Rudolph the reindeer run for his title, only to know from the call logs that Yoongi did not receive Rosa’s call because he was sleeping when Y/N outright told him to take over the phone because she needed a bathroom break.

Min Yoongi is mean and Y/N has seen the last straw of her respectful tolerance to people ticked off by this insufferable man one cursed Thursday night of September.

Thursdays are horrible. It is always assured to be the worst day Y/N will have in a week. Either an investor will change their mind about a deal with Travel Loca, or Nancy will lash out at her because of stress from stupid shenanigans of her rebellious teenage daughter—Thursdays always have it out for Y/N. Y/N can already tell this so when Nancy called for her at 10:30 P.M. to give her a run-down of her schedule for the weekends and the upcoming week. It is already an established routine that Nancy will have Y/N over to her office to give a schedule report at any time of the day. It’s just happened this day that Yoongi took a leave and Y/N shouldered every task to be done, easily wearing her out in the afternoon.

Y/N is close to crying right now because of exhaustion and it does not help that Nancy is wearing a sour face. She does not even look up at Y/N from her laptop when she said, “Tell me this week’s schedule.”

Y/N pulls up her notebook and traces her pen over her notes, “Tomorrow you have an 11 AM meeting with investors from VanTae Apparels. At 1 PM you will have an online meeting with our overseas partners, JM Restaurant Group. We also have to submit the Kim Yuna special feature by 2 PM and at 3 we have the Travel with RM to interview. And–”

“Push the Travel with RM to 2. We’re holding the Yuna feature ‘til next week because Jennie is writing as if she’s still in college.” Nancy presses a hand over her forehead and huffs, “The Writing Department has been consecutively disappointing me with boring, generic articles. Are fresh pieces non-existent nowadays?!”

Y/N looks up, eyes wide, hands sweaty.

Nancy turns back to her laptop, “What else is on my sched?”

“Um, O-on Saturday 4 PM, you are invited to your friend’s, Rica’s baby shower, and for 5, you are invited to Jungsoo’s son’s 1st birthday party. Then Sunday 2 PM is Hana’s sister’s daughter’s 1st birthday party. You are also invited to Nick and Ken’s wedding on Friday and–”

Nancy clicks her tongue, “Cancel them all. I have no time for these parties and meaningless chit-chats that always have these housewives bragging how great their husbands are or their children’s stupid what-nots.”

Y/N nods and slashes through her notes, “Okay.”

“So send them my apologies and give them a $300 gift instead.

“Okay, ma’am.”

Nancy turns her swivel chair to face her, “Did you get my daughter the unpublished sequel of The Swallowing?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Y/N smiles, recalling her last week’s adventure and success. Maybe Nancy’s mood will lighten up if she knew how she accomplished such an impossible task. “I got to grab a copy after weeks of talking with R. Lewis’ manager. Luckily, R. Lewis caught wind that it’s for your daughter. So he agreed to give me the copy. I actually have it right now, let me go back to my table –”

“You don’t have to. Suzie changed her mind. She doesn’t like The Swallowing anymore. Return the copy and get her the unpublished sequel instead of Bird and Foe.”

Y/N’s jaw nearly falls as she stammers, “S-sure, no problem.” Deep inside, Y/N cannot help but think to herself, “Yes, Nancy may be fickle-minded and forgetful of differences in company protocols that intervene with such transactions, but she cannot just disregard my hard work! All the money in my train tickets and brain cells have gone all in the drain for nothing—Okay, calm down, Y/N, this is Nancy. Nancy can help you to write the best articles in no time. This is just training for the real deal—

“Y/N, did you hear me?”

“S-sorry, what?”

“I said, where’s the USB I told you to get from my laptop at our home? I need the files for the JM Restaurant Group.”

Oh shit. The USB. Y/N told Yoongi to get it since he lived nearer to Nancy’s residence in West Street than her. And since, Yoongi’s on leave, the USB is—!

“And first thing in the morning, I want you to go to the Writing Department to get some fresh stories. I do not want to personally see them or else I will be able to fire one whole department in a day.”

At this, Y/N fiddles with her fingers. “Umm, I think I have a story.”

Nancy quirks her brow.

Y/N wrings her hands behind her back. “I-it’s not yet polished and I still have more to cover on–”

“So, you’re already telling me it’s bad before you even pitch a formal proposal –”

Y/N’s eyes widen and she rushes to Nancy. “No! I-it’s about the Write and Backpack Trip Club. The-they’re a club of unpublished writers, usually late 30s, who met on Facebook and decide to travel together to the countries or places their stories are supposed to take place.” Nancy tilts her head and Y/N picks up her tone. Her hands start to quiver with her voice as she says, “People think—people think it’s hopeless. Like, like, they’re wasting their lives on something so trivial instead of focusing on their jobs. But this club gave them a purpose to still reach for their dreams even when people tell them it’s already too late. And I just,” Y/N wipes a stray tear on her cheek–which she doesn’t know if it’s because of her attachment to the club, Nancy’s new orders, or her frustration at Yoongi for leaving all their responsibilities on her–but she sucks them up and breathes out, “I find it really inspiring to have the courage to seek out your purpose when everything in the world is against you.”

Nancy stares at her, brows furrowed. Another drop of tear falls from Y/N’s eyes. Nancy fixes her eyes back on her laptop. “The USB, Y/N, I need it now. A.S.A.P., capiche.”

Wiping her cheeks again, Y/N nods, “Ye-yeah, capiche.”

Y/N could not remember any time she’s rushed out the office as fast as now. Yoongi’s cell is out of reach and nothing is present in Y/N’s mind but to just run out of the building. She needs to clear her mind. She has to think of a solution. She can’t go back to Nancy empty-handed. Nancy’s already unimpressed of her sloppy work for this day, much more at her uncalled emotional breakdown in her office. She will definitely get fired for sure this time.

The cold dry wind hits Y/N’s face the moment she pushes past the large glass doors of the Rockfort Building. The night sky has blackened into dark indigo and the establishments that dot the neighboring grounds of the building have blurred into monotonous dim shops. With just their solar lights left on, the rest of the complex looked like a washed-out commercial center. The only thing that stands out has to be the small mango tree just a meter away from her—the center-piece and quite the only humanizing element of the harsh Rockfort Complex.

Okay, this is great. Y/N always tend to get the best ideas and solutions when she’s standing near this tree. She proved this twice. First, when Nancy demanded her to re-do all their presentations for VanTae Apparel. Y/N managed to slay it by getting inspired by the mangoes and editing the templates to look like nature’s rendition of Van Gogh’s starry night, which happened to be the favorite painting of VanTae’s CEO. And second, when Yoongi messed up Y/N’s schedules for Nancy’s personal events by misnaming each invitation, this mango tree provided her peace to quickly fix everything up before Nancy gets to the office.

Put your thinking cap on, Y/N. What should you do? Should you rush to Nancy’s house now? Oh no, maybe Yoongi already got the USB. Should you go then to Yoongi’s house? Shit, I don’t know his house address—

“Here’s $25, sir. Thank you!”

Y/N freezes. It can’t be.

Y/N turns to her right only for her eyes to land on a man with a familiar jet black mop of hair, standing about two meters before her, talking with a blue-vested delivery man.

No. No. No. NO. Min Yoongi cannot just swoop out of nowhere and sound so chirpy like that while I have to stress over a problem that I DID NOT create. I cannot get fired in a company I’ve spent my life on for two years just because of this man’s unreasonable incompetence!

Fueled by the purest form of aggravation, Y/N stomps ahead and brushes Yoongi’s shoulder, making him turn back to her.

“Oh, hi, Y/N.”

“‘Hi?!’ ‘Hi,’ yourself, Min Yoongi!—"

“Oh my God,” Yoongi rolls his eyes, “she’s Adolf Hitler again.”

“Adolf Hitler?!” Y/N scoffs, “Say it for yourself, Min! You’re Hitler because you’re twisted enough to ruin my career because doing shit in yours is not enough. Where’s Nancy’s USB?!”

“If you’re going to talk about work again, I gotta leave. If you didn’t know, a ‘leave’ is a leave.” He emphasizes the last syllable as he starts to walk toward the street.

Letting common sense knock into her, Y/N momentarily disregards her pride and runs after him. When he rounds the corner of a clothing boutique, she slips by his side and places herself in the middle of the sidewalk, blocking him.

Unlike his usual work attire, Yoongi is clad in a black hoodie and denim ripped jeans, an ensemble that remarkably turned to look horrible in 0.5 seconds just because he’s wearing it. Y/N deduces it’s just Yoongi ruining fashion because he 24/7 looks like an asshole.

“What, are you just gonna stare at me?”

Yoongi’s voice brings Y/N back to her purpose. “No, I’m here to tell you, you forgot to do your job—Nancy wants her USB for JM Restaurant Group right now.”

“Well, I don’t have it, sweetheart. Work hours are already over so practically, I’m in no responsibility to do whatever the fuck Nancy wants,” the man quips back, smiling.

Y/N cannot help but snap. “Why are you even here in Rockfort, then? You didn’t turn up for work and now you’re just casually strolling in front of our building. You didn’t take home at least a quarter of our tasks and dumped everything on my shoulders like an irresponsible, signature free-loader high school groupmate. And now you think it’s okay to tell me ‘sorry, I don’t have the USB’ when I told you yesterday to bring it today?! I cannot believe what an asshole you can be, Yoongi.”

Yoongi raises a hand. “Okay, chill, tiger. To answer your question, I am here because my friends and I hung out at a bar near here. Not that you will understand, of course, considering your whole life revolves around work, work, and work. Ooh, and Nancy,” Yoongi grins. “How can I forget you idolize Nancy? Actually no, you worship her.”

Y/N’s face falls into an indignant scowl, “I do NOT worship Nancy! I respect her. Which you also should do because she employed you, not the other way around. Also, I have friends! Mina is my friend!”

“Correction, Mina is your only friend at work. And she happened to be your flatmate and college buddy first before you both had luck to also be co-workers. So no, your friendship with Mina is out of the equation.”

Y/N opens her mouth to tell him Mina cannot be out of the equation when Yoongi beats her, “And second, how could I be a free-loader? A leave is a leave. Our job description did not say we should also take work home. You are the only one who does that because you’re paranoid. So don’t impose your so-called work ethic, that is actually masked obsession, to me because I am a mentally healthy person. I don’t want to have a stick in my ass like you do.”

Y/N steps closer to Yoongi, making the latter cock a brow at her. “I’m not paranoid, Min. It’s you who is the problem. You don’t take this job seriously. You don’t take on responsibilities like a mature adult. You think you’re so great just because no one told you you suck at something when you were a kid. Well, let me tell you now. You suck at plain human decency, something that should be innate in every people. You’re so high up your ass you think you can just do anything and get away with it and you–”

“If you’re just going to insult me, can you do that tomorrow? My food is getting cold.”

Oh no. Nancy’s USB. Y/N closes her eyes and releases a long sigh. She thinks her eyes already did a 360 by the time she managed to fix her composure. She looks up at the man in front of her, currently giving her an amused look. Y/N’s voice cracks as she says, “Yoongi…This is the only time I will ask a favor from you. Please help me with Nancy’s USB. I just want to end this night and go home peacefully without her chewing my head off further more. So please, please, please, can you just help me for once?”

“Hmm,” Yoongi scratches his chin, “let me think about it first.”

“Yoongi, please!”

“Okay, fine,” Yoongi grimaces, “considering you practically begged to me for dear life, I, as a human with pure soul will help you out despite all the shits you said to me—”

“Just help me out!”

Yoongi slaps your reaching hands, “Stop, I’m not yet done with my speech. Anyway, considering this as a favor, not a request, I expect a return of favor, too.”

“Sure, fine, anything!”

“Okay, I think I may or may not have slipped in Nancy’s USB in my bag,” Yoongi breathes out as he reaches for his black satchel. “Oh yeah, I totally have it,” he says, flashing the orange 32 GB USB in front of you.

What the fuck. All this time-!

“Why didn’t you tell me you already have the USB?!”

Yoongi nearly guffaws, “Didn’t I tell you a “leave” is a leave? Wait, oh my god, you should see yourself, sweetheart. You’re about to pop a vein.”

“Min Yoongi, I fucking hate you!” Y/N snatches the USB from Yoongi’s hand and stomps back to the direction of the Rockfort Building. The man doesn’t seem to go on his own way though because Y/N hears him holler “Same sentiment too, Y/N!”

Y/N doesn’t turn back. She just raises a middle finger up that she’s sure Yoongi will not miss. And he did not, for the man’s faint chuckles only continued.

The travel back up to the 12th floor seems like the longest elevator ride Y/N has ever been on. Every additional second into the constricted metal box feels like a one-second deduction from her own lifetime. So when the elevator doors open to Travel Loca’s floor, the air is immediately knocked off Y/N lungs. But not because of relief. Nancy stands in front of her, bags in hand, and obviously upset.

Y/N quickly steps out of the lift. “Nancy, here! The USB!”

“You took too long. Just e-mail them to me. I have to cram-reading them in the morning anyway because a certain someone forgot to do their job.” Nancy brushes by her shoulder and steps into the elevator. “You know, Y/N, if I’m paying you to make my life easier for me and instead, you’re making it harder, your position in this company is useless.” Nancy presses the button for the parking lot. The doors close in front of Y/N, letting her see the disappointment on Nancy’s face for the last second of the night.

Y/N goes home twenty minutes later, worn out, and ready to sleep the second she reaches her floor. But when she opens the door, Mina’s smiling face greets her, and she immediately rushes to the sofa next to her bestfriend.

“Mina, oh my god, I have so much to tell you.”

“Me, too!” Mina giggles, wrapping her arms around Y/N’s arms, “Can I go first though?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Y/N smiles, fixing her seat.

“Well, remember last week when I told you I finally confessed to Mark?”

“Mark, as in, the café barista Mark Tuan?”

Mina jokingly hits Y/N’s arm, “Yes, what Mark would I be talking about?”

“Sorry, you know how I get so spaced out when I’m tired and groggy. Anyway, what happened?”

“Well, Mark finally said yes!” Mina bursts into a wide grin, arms outstretched in joy. “I finally get to date Mark!”

“Oh my god, I’m so happy for you, Nana,” Y/N engulfs Mina into an embrace, “I can’t believe you’re finally in a relationship! I mean, who would not want to date you? You’re smart, pretty, and funny. The boys have missed out on you for seven long years. And now, there’s finally someone who has eyes and can see what a gem you are. And damn right, Mark would see that. It’s not every day he can have a gorgeous girl court him for six months after getting rejected twice.”

“Oh my god, stop bringing that up!” Mina playfully slaps her back and Y/N chortles.

“Okay, okay, I’m just joking. What I really mean is: Mark is a lucky guy. I’m glad he finally realized what an idiot he will be if he rejects you again for the third time when you’ve been with him through all his problems. He won’t find another beautiful girl willing to ride his motorcycle with him in a huge-ass dress just to help him deliver orders in time. You’re the total package Mina and I’m so happy Mark has realized it.”

“Oh, Y/N, you’re making me blush,” Mina laughs. She sways the both of them in their hug, “Mark has an impossibly high standard to meet now because of you.”

“Mark doesn’t have to meet any standards,” Y/N snickers, “You already drool at his face the moment we enter The Daily Bean.”

Mina detaches herself from Y/N and dramatically places a hand over her chest. “How can you remember that so well and not who Mark is?”

Y/N shrugs, “Because I’m not staring at Mark and eye-fucking him 24/7.”

“Oh my god, I do not!” Mina giggles, making you laugh again as she hugs you tight once more. Mina’s fingers card through your hair as she murmurs “But you do know, Y/N, even if I’m in a relationship now, I’m not gonna leave you alone. Even if Mark will start to occupy the top priority in my life, it doesn’t mean you will lose your spot in the top-pest part of my list. You know you’re still and will forever be my number one, right?” Y/N hums at that, closing her eyes from the head massage Mina is currently giving her. She feels Mina nod, “Right, you should because you’re practically my baby.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are! Who would wash the red stain on your pants and underpants in the girl’s CR while you prance around the cubicle only in a top because you bled through your bottoms during your period, much more, on our Christmas Party, other than me?”

Y/N grimaces, “Oh god, you didn’t have to bring that up.”

“You hit right through me when you said I eye-fuck Mark so yeah, eye for an eye, bitch,” Mina cackles as she finally unlatches her arms around her friend. “Anyway, I’m finished with my story of the day. Your turn. What happened tonight?”

Y/N bites her lip, unconsciously easing an inch between her and her bestfriend. Mina is in a good mood today. Y/N doesn’t want to ruin it by ranting off about how horrible Yoongi is again. She knows Mina. She will listen to her rant about another bullshit done by her co-PA and she will also indulge in an insult-fest against the man. That’s just their dynamic: Y/N’s enemy is Mina’s enemy and vice versa. So as Y/N looks at Mina’s smile which doesn’t do much covering up her dark eyes, which have grown from staying up late to wait for her to come home for multiple nights on end, Y/N decides it’s enough negativity for the day.

“It’s nothing, Mina,” Y/N shakes her head, forcing a smile on her face, “just another tiring day from work.”

Mina tilts her head, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Y/N flashes her another smile as she heads for her room, “I’m totally fine. Just tired. Congratulations to you and Mark again.”

“Yeah, thank you,” Mina replies, but the look on her face tells Y/N she’s unconvinced of what she said. Seemingly aware that her friend needed space, Mina turns back the TV. Before Y/N closes her door, she hears Mina chuckle to a punch-line in the airing sitcom.

Y/N flops on her bed face down. If Yoongi didn’t put much of a fight and just handed her Nancy’s USB when he knew he already had it, then maybe this night won’t be so horrible. Y/N would have given Nancy her USB in time, and her boss could have acknowledged it as a peace offering to her unremarkable work performance that day. Y/N would have totally rejoiced with Mina with her full heart into it and not force a smile on her face when such an announcement deserves much more celebration.

Y/N releases a stifled scream into her pillow. Thursdays are really the worst and it’s all Min Yoongi’s fault.

However, what Y/N didn’t expect is that the following week will get much worse. The Writing Department is late in their deadline, causing the online publication of the September issue to be pushed in the first week of October, a big deal late to the releases of their magazine competitors. Thus, Nancy became more pissy and naggy, giving Y/N a cold shoulder for the longest streak in her work life. Nancy became more frigid when Y/N failed to get Nancy the copy of the unpublished sequel of Bird and Foe. Y/N tried her best, she really did. It’s just that the publishers of Russell Park refused to give another copy because they said they cannot give out two unpublished copies at the same time. Of course, this turned out as a lazy excuse to Nancy, making her dump additional workload on Y/N’s already staggering pile. But that was not what made Y/N’s last week of September the worst week she’s ever had. It was Min Yoongi getting promoted as a staff member to the Creatives Team after giving Nancy the unpublished Bird and Foe sequel.

Ringing phones, staff members running to- and fro- the beige faux wood office floor, and the occasional requests for coffee from the break room–Travel Loca is buzzing with life as usual. But not for long though, because the clock hands are currently on 12:49 P.M. At 12:57, it seems everyone on the floor have gone silent. Almost everyone taps their foot against the floor. All eyes were set on the digital wall clock. Some have even glanced on their own wristwatches to check if the wall clock was right. The hands start to move. Everyone gulps.

The hands hit one o’clock. Everyone scrambles off their swivel chairs. Some have bee-lined for the break room. Meanwhile, a huge mass had created a bottle-neck of office workers at Travel Loca’s main door. No one is left on the staff chairs, except for one: Mina Young.

The accountant slides her swivel chair to the left. Her hands meander through her large file cases and when she feels a cold, ribbed metal surface on her index, she smiles. Mina pushes the on-button and immediately, the then-silent office space has now become a replica of her own flat.

“Good morning everyone! Today seems an extra sweet day than yesterday because you know what? I can smell and see the sweet aroma of those dark, chewy chocolates and those pretty pink balloons surrounding our streets. That’s right folks, Valentine’s Day is just around the corner! Which also means–drumroll for me, Alexa–Holidays are about to sweep in! It’s just three weeks to go, folks, note that! So, for our dear, sweet listeners, I hope you already got your hotels booked and your plane tickets ready so you can finally have that amazing buffet, relaxing spa, or a fun tour around places you’ve never been with your very lovable significant others! I’m sure all of you will have that wonderful, exciting, and pleasurable rendezvous away from school, work, and any responsibilities. Just make sure to channel in on our station if you want the best playlist to get you in the mood for some steamy, passionate, and intimate time–”

“Mina, will you turn off that radio?”

The short-haired brunette frowns at her friend, whose also frowning at her. Mina pushes up her glasses on her nose, “Why? You know I always listen to this station during break time. Plus, Nancy is not here.”

“Still, it doesn’t excuse how irritating that DJ sounds.” Y/N rolls her eyes as she plops herself on another swivel chair. “His voice sounds like there are two styrofoams gyrating each other in a sweaty club.”

Mina’s jaw drops as she turns off her portable mini-radio on her desk. She faces Y/N with a frown this time—actually a scowl now. “Kim Seokjin’s voice is like creamy velvet to the ears! Also,” she scrunches her nose in disgust, “you did not just sexualize non-living objects so casually as if you’re not aware that the mental image you’re painting is so disturbing.”

“First off,” Y/N turns to her, swivel chair squeaking in her abrupt movement, “you’re already seeing Mark Tuan for you to have any weird fantasies about Kim Seokjin and his voice or how cute his laugh is when it literally sounds like he’s an old man dying on a choked-out old joke. And second, sexualizing objects is not illegal by law and even if it so, I did NOT sexualize them. They are just the perfect representation of how Seokjin’s voice sounds.”

Mina purses her lips and props her elbow on her desk to cup her face. “Cut to the point, Y/N. Just tell me what is with you today. You barged in furious in here for no reason, threw a fit at the break room, and now you’re ruining lunch by insulting Seokjin for something so trivial.”

“Trivial?! His voice is fucking irritating! Just because he’s handsome does not mean his voice will also sound good on the radio. It’s like listening to a whale dying while making mating calls–”

“The point, Y/N?” Mina cuts you with an unamused look.

You deflate in your seat. “Fine, it’s Min Yoongi. He made it a point that he is more intelligent and capable than me in our 10 AM meeting with Nancy for this month’s spread. Said he knows more about weird facts and trivia about Sweden because I never got to travel outside this fucking country when I damn well know he only uses some advanced search engine to look for info like the computer whiz that he is! I went so many times on his Facebook to know he posts nothing in his wall but his work achievements—and his dog! Of course, if you went outside the country, you will post pictures in your wall, ‘cus social media sites are just platforms masked as an outlet for free expression when we damn well know it’s just a place where you can brag and be not called out for being arrogant. And damn hell, Min Yoongi does not have any out-of-the-country pictures posted there. What only comes close is his picture of that gumbo he said he made—yeah, quotation marks—because it looks too good to be made by his ugly crooked hands and even if it’s got this aesthetic background not expected to come from this fucking country, I still think he just photoshopped it.” Y/N crosses her arms, “Bet that gumbo did not even taste good.”

Mina scrunches her forehead, “Are you the only flawed person Min Yoongi sees? Why does he always have to nitpick every single bit of your work? He just criticized your last week’s report because of your ‘poor articulation.’”

“Right?!” Y/N leans back on her chair. She groans, “I still remember how he sabotaged my files for Nancy’s professional and personal events. Who in their right mind would change the contact names to mythical creatures? Rica’s 2nd baby shower was named ‘Merlin’s Demon Baby’s Party?’ It’s a baby event for God’s sake!” Y/N looks at her friend, “I swear Mina, one day I will get a brain hemorrhage because of Yoongi’s shits.”

Mina winces, “Please don’t. I don’t want to be the one to tell your mother you already died before you even managed to pay your housing loans.”

“Hey! Don’t attack me like that,” Y/N slaps the back of her friend’s chair. Mina, choking on her spit first, erupts into a fit of giggles.

Unfortunately, it seems lunch’s fun will be cut short as Y/N hears Nancy’s megaphone’s speaker start up, “Calling for Y/N to come into my office. A.S.A.P!”

Y/N scrambles from her seat as Mina sees her off with a sad wave. Pushing through Nancy’s glass door, Y/N could see the lines of ridges forming on Nancy’s forehead before the latter can even eye her.

“Y-yes, Ma’am? You called for me?”

Nancy pins her a look, “You’re asking me if I called you? Are you deaf? Did you not understand what I said?”

“Yes!—I-I mean on the understanding part, yes, not about being deaf or something hehe-“

“Y/N,” Nancy clasps her hands on her table, “I called you here because I have something important to tell you.”

Y/N nears her table, pulling up her notebook and pen.

“I need you to work in the Creatives Department for the next two weeks.”

Y/N’s fingers freeze. She looks up at Nancy with eyes as wide as a goldfish. And before she can brain-filter out her words, they’ve already escaped her mouth. “What do you mean I have to be in the Creatives next week? I’m your personal assistant, not Min Yoongi’s!”

“Y/N, I didn’t say you will work for Yoongi. He’s not the head of the Creatives. Steven Spielberg is,” Nancy gives the girl an unamused look, waving her off from her desk. Y/N bites her lip as she takes two steps backward. She didn’t know she’s rushed up too close to Nancy’s table just at the prospect of Yoongi and her working together came from her boss’ lips.

Nancy leans back on her chair, “I know you two have this petty children-in-the-playground fights ever since the start of October last year. I get that your differences are too great to be bridged anytime soon, thus the reason why I grew tired telling you to stop doing your cat and dog thing because I know you two wouldn’t listen anyway. You two just like to bang heads whenever you like—”

“But, it’s Yoongi’s fault-”

Nancy raises a finger, “But, Y/N, this is really important. I will be out-of-the-country for the next three weeks for both some business and family matters. Hence, why I cannot bring you with me as usual. And why I will need you to work under Steven for the meantime: to report to me about any of their progress. The Creatives’ current designs will have us late into this month’s deadline and I do not want this business going down anytime soon because of a weak holiday cover. So, as my PA, you will report everything about their progress to me, and you will report my feedback to them. At the same time, you will tame your childish fights with Yoongi to a minimum so Travel Loca will function as well as it can be while I’m not physically here. Understand?”

Y/N nods, “understand, Ma’am.” She doesn’t have a choice even if she wanted to object. Whatever Nancy dictated is already set in stone.

“Also,” Nancy looks at Y/N, “since I will be off the next three weeks, my schedules for the weeks in my absence will be pushed and packed on the following week. So, I expect you to still work on your station—and work even harder after I came back. Understand?”

More workload? Y/N internally groans. She doesn’t like work getting reduced early into the week then doubling into hell in the latter part of the month. She likes them evened out—everything is balanced, familiar, and predictable. Nevertheless, Y/N only nods, “yes.” “No” doesn’t exist in Nancy’s dictionary.

Nancy returns to her laptop and waves her off, “Okay. Then, capiche.”

“Yes, ma’am, capiche,” Y/N makes a quick bow and scampers out of her boss’ office.

When Y/N reaches her station, she sinks herself into the cushion of her seat. First, Min Yoongi belittles her researching ability in the morning meeting. Then now, she will work with him for the majority of three weeks. After that, another hell will start because of Nancy’s incoming packed schedules.

Y/N’s eyes land on her laptop and she immediately sees her calendar. January 16, 2020. Thursday. Y/N releases an inhumane groan. Of course, the goddamn Thursday curse. When will she ever live?

“When will I ever die?” Y/N sobs into Mina’s shirt. Her friend keeps her arms around her tight as she cards through her hair.

“Hey, don’t think so negative,” Mina coos, “Think of this as an opportunity to finally have Nancy off your back.”

“Yeah, as if working with Min Yoongi is better than that. He already ruins my life when we only physically encounter each other in meetings and breaks and lunches. Imagine working with him for a whole fucking day!”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I take that back,” Mina hugs her friend tighter.

Y/N continues, “And after enduring all that, my workload will quadruple when Nancy comes back after three weeks! I already experienced this during her daughter’s debut last year. When Nancy said a pile of work will come, it fucking means four metal file cases of work. I spent the last two weeks of August plunging myself into an abyss of papers. I did not sleep for two weeks straight! And now— I will have three weeks-worth of hell work to come after spending three weeks working with the personification of Satan. Can the world just eat me up?!”

“Wait, wait, wait, wait,” Mina pulls away to hold her bestfriend at arms-length, “What did you say will happen in three weeks?”

Y/N closes her eyes, “Another hell will come because a shit-pile of work is coming in three weeks! Mina, I’ve been telling you this since morning-”

“Y/N, after three weeks, it’s Valentine’s Day.”

Y/N’s eyes immediately shoot open, “What?”

“Look,” Mina clicks on her phone and flashes Y/N her calendar app. “Today’s January 17. Exactly after three weeks is the Valentine’s week.”

Y/N’s jaw drops ajar, “Oh my god.”

“Yes, Y/N, oh my God. It’s the fucking Heart Holiday.”

“…The country’s long-time problem with their low birth rate has driven the government to build another department that will help its citizens build, manage, and maintain healthy relationships. The Department of Relationship Management was established in 2015, and ever since then, there have been impressive developments in our country’s birth rate. One of the best programs of DRM behind this wonderful growth is the Heart Holiday, the holiday held in the week of Valentine’s Day. It grants any person employed in a private sector one week of paid holiday vacation leave as long as they are currently in a relationship. Meanwhile, education establishments and students are given one week off their academic calendars without regard to their relationship status. Isn’t that sweet? The only downside to that, folks, is that government employees can only have two days of paid holiday leave on the 14th and 15th. But, still, a holiday is still a holiday! So for our lovely listeners, start planning your vacation trips and hangouts! Especially when Cloud 10 Airlines is there to make your holiday week even sweeter with their 70% discount on local trips! Just contact 675-9859 and 568-987—”

“Mina, can you turn off the radio?!”

“Again?!” Mina heaves, “What’s with your aggravation streak these days against Kim Seokjin’s voice?”

“It rattles me,” Y/N half-screams, plopping into the swivel chair next to her friend’s cubicle. “Yesterday, he already announced that goddamn timeline of the DRM and ‘all hailed’ importance of the Heart Holiday. Why does he have to repeat it again today? In that overly-enthusiastic voice, too, as if he’s never read of that script again and again?!”

“Y/N, it’s how broadcasting works. It’s one of the most awaited holidays in the year, so of course, they will nab as many advertisement deals as they can.”

“Well, I don’t like how they work!”

“You cannot just tell a radio company to stop working,” Mina turns in her chair to face her friend, “Also, stop venting your frustration on Seokjin. He doesn’t even know you hate his voice. Routinely doing this noise pollution doesn’t do anything at all. Just tell me what made you upset today.”

“It’s Yoongi!” Y/N scowls. “He won’t explain to me the technical editing terms on Steven’s report for Nancy! He said a five grader can even know what they are. I went through fifth grade, Mina, and I did not freaking know about any photoshop shit!”

“Well, that’s because you’re old.”

Mina looks up and sees Yoongi hovering her cubicle.

Y/N’s scowl deepens, as she turns her chair to the direction of the intruder. “As if you’re any much younger. From what I know, you’re four years older than me, dumbass.”

“Well, at least I know what Steven is talking about,” Yoongi props his chin on Mina’s cubicle.

Y/n rolls her eyes, “Because it’s your freaking line of work! Of course, you’ll know about it!”

“Well, you’re now working most of the time in the Creatives Team and you don’t know it. What does that make you, then? I’ll give you a hint: It’s what you called me three seconds ago. Starts with the letter ‘d’ and ends with the letter ‘s.’”

“What? You think you’re so smart now just because you know that vector-mask-thingy?! News flash, Yoongi, you did not graduate with any Latin honor. I did! So, who’s the real dumbass?!”

“You damn well know Latin honors doesn’t actually have any effect on real life. Practical knowledge has—especially knowledge about terminologies used in digital designing. Which you need because you won’t be able to report anything to your god Nancy. Because, well: You. Don’t. Know. Anything. Like. Always.”

“Min Yoongi, fuck you–”

“Guys, guys, guys, can you stop?”

Y/N gives Yoongi another glare before fixing herself back in her seat. Mina puffs, “Yoongi, can you leave us alone for a while? We’re talking here and you just invited yourself in our conversation.”

Yoongi chides, “Well, tell your friend that if she wants to shit-talk a person just a meter away from her without the said person barging in the conversation, she should keep her voice on the down-low. Not screaming around like a crazy ape.”

Y/N’s jaw drops open, “What crazy ape?! You’re the crazy ape! You look like a fucking gorilla who accidentally get dwarfed by a tooth fairy and-”

“Min Yoongi, just leave us alone,” Mina gives the man a pointed look.

Yoongi shrugs and detaches himself from her cubicle. He heads back to their office but he doesn’t completely leave the room without giving Y/N a middle finger.

Y/N’s mouth drops open in disbelief. She turns to Mina. “See? Isn’t it obvious he just wants to make me the bad man to Nancy again? What kind of person are you to not cooperate with your co-worker like a goddamn adult? I don’t get why no one sees this bitch’s true face but you and me! I just want to freaking tear off his face, make him wipe it in his ass, then place it back on his head since he’s such a literal ass—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Mina clasps a hand over your shoulder, “don’t get too homicidal. What you just said, aside from disturbing, is very disgusting.”

Y/N slumps in her seat and crosses her arms.

Mina sighs. “Okay, yeah, I know, Min Yoongi is the worst. But I don’t want you to do anything stupid so let’s not talk about him for a while, ‘kay?” Y/N nods. Mina leans back in her seat with the nth sigh for the day. “Okay, I got some update from Jaehyun.”

Y/N leans forward. “What did he say?”

Mina gives you a sad smile, “He already has a fiancé.”

“So soon?” Y/N scoffs. “He was just courting me two months ago.”

“Yeah, well he’s getting married this week. Whatever,” Mina waves off, “I don’t like him for you anyway. He dresses like a college fuckboy.”

“Okay, what about Dahyun?”

“Already married.”

Y/N’s eyes widen, “and she didn’t tell us?”

“Yeah, I already nagged her on the phone. She said it all kinda happened too fast–her and Sana. And the marriage was in New York. We’re too broke for out-of-the-country trips to attend anyway if we were informed.” Mina smiles, “She said she’s gonna invite us to the Christening of their baby.”

“Okay, I’m glad she still cared about us. Oh,” Y/N pipes up, “what did Jackson say over the phone?”

Mina gives you a tight smile. “Getting married, too. And guess what, the invitations were already in our mail box when I went to get our bills.”

“Momo?”

“Engaged. She and Heechul just broke out the news a week ago.”

“Sam?”

“Married. And 4 months pregnant.”

“Jongdae?”

“Engaged. Also has a baby in way.”

“Hana?”

“Engaged.”

“Changmin?”

“Engaged.”

“Jaebum?

“Engaaaaaged.”

Y/N throws her hands in the air, “Why is everyone getting married?!”

“Well, we’re in our late 20s. It’s the “marrying age” they say. It got more enphasized when DRM’s programs had succeeded in encouraging hundreds of people to marry in the recent year. Even my mom already expects Mark to propose by next month. We’re just dating for 6 months!” Mina cringes. She pulls Y/N’s chair closer to her to hold her hands. “Y/N, I’m really sorry. It kinda slipped my mind that we always apply together for the Heart Holiday every year. It’s just that Mark and I—”

“Hey, hey, don’t blame yourself. You’ve been pining after Mark for about two years and now look at you—together, stable, and in-love half into the year! I don’t want you to fret having a relationship with the boy you liked for so long.”

“Yeah, Y/N, I know,” Mina closes her eyes. “It’s just sad and unfortunate everyone we know are already in relationships.”

“Yeah…” Y/N nods and the two fall into silence. Why is everyone conveniently in a relationship just in time with the Heart Holiday? What, the whole world suddenly knew the loophole in DRM’s program? Y/N and Mina studied that for a whole year! This is unfair. Y/N cannot be the only single person out there who’ll miserably work in the office while everyone gets to have the time of their lives—wait.

Y/N grabs Mina’s hands. “Hey, Nana, I know we said co-workers are off-limits because Nancy will definitely know it’s a ruse. She’ll block my application form before it can even have the seal from the HR. Especially when she found out our lesbian “relationship” was fake after you and Mark updated your civil statuses.” Mina winces and opens her mouth to apologize again but Y/N cuts her with a finger to her mouth. “Nancy will definitely call me a liar and grill my head if she finds out what we’re planning to do now. But look, Nancy’s out of the country. Teddy is the general supervisor and she’s the next in the hierarchy. We damn well know her 45-year-old heart is soft for some nicely-woven romantic story. Even more, in an office setting—the bane of every middle-aged woman’s sappy romantic heart. So, what do you say?”

Mina lets out an exasperated breath, “That crossed my mind, too, you know. But, Y/N, the thing is—the whole Accounting Department is in a relationship. And the same goes for the Writing, Marketing, Logistics, and HR. All of them are either in a relationship, married, or getting married.”

“What?” Y/N’s eyebrows curve up high, “How come I didn’t know this?”

“Uh, because you’re busy working for Nancy day-in and day-out? Also, I just happen to be friends with Jisoo from HR. She’s in charge of the company’s relationship records. Sometimes, she slips in everyone’s stories while we listen to WWL Radio during break time.”

Y/N bites her lip. This can’t be happening to her. Not now. Not when the most un-objectifiable reason for a break from Nancy is about to slip through her fingers like fine sand.

Mina scratches her nape, “I…may have someone in mind though.”

Y/N’s eyes look straight into Mina’s. “Tell me.”

“Well, the entire Creatives Department is either married or engaged save for one.”

Y/N holds Mina’s hands tighter. “Who?”

“Min, Yoongi.”

Y/N must be going crazy. She thinks she must be growing a nest of vultures in her brain now, the mother routinely picking on her numerous dead brain cells to feed to her young. It doesn’t help that the bags under her eyes have started to droop like a waterfall, forming a sad saddle of grey on her cheeks. She cannot even remember the last time she had a decent meal. All she remembers is the finger foods Mina hands to her station every once in a while.

The universe is being unfair to her and it is all taking a toll on her body. They weren’t kidding when they said adjusting to a new environment is an entire whole work in itself. The Creatives Team runs a completely different routine. Large monitors crammed with multiple editing softwares Y/N cannot understand surround the studio-size office space. There are drafted papers and previous issues scattered in every possible corner, some even gathering dust by the floor-to-ceiling windows. Y/N is not even sure if anyone has re-arranged their desks in the last few months. The Creatives’ work ethic is loosely bound on schedules and everyone seems to be doing everyone else’s job. Except for Y/N, because Steven is the only one willing to share their team’s progress to her. But that alone is not enough for her daily report to Nancy because Steven is always busy in his computer. More unfortunately, everyone is wary of her. Y/N’s sure she even saw Kim Myungsoo clutch their design folders closer to his chest when her eyes glanced at his cubicle.

Sure, Y/N expected everyone will have their guards up on her. Who wouldn’t be when they know Nancy still has eyes on them even if she’s countries away? But still, it doesn’t lessen the pain on Y/N’s self-esteem and the stress on her back. If Y/N can’t get someone to talk to her, she won’t be able to provide a more substantial report to Nancy more than just reading Steven’s printed reports verbatim.

Y/N is desperate to find a workmate to discuss everything happening in the Creatives with her, but unluckily for her, she only has someone she wishes to not even breathe the same air with. Of course, no one in the Creatives wants to talk to her except for Min Yoongi. He’s an insufferable ass who doesn’t know when to shut up. He welcomes Y/N every single day with an annoying “Yo, Y/N” and an unneeded commentary about her outfit, like how yesterday he told her “I know retro is in but I didn’t know grandma blouses are deemed stylish again.” He blabbers about his unnecessarily extensive general knowledge about every South Asian country, even if Y/N countlessly told him she didn’t care. He brags about the cover designs and templates he did in the previous issues, flipping the pages too close in Y/N’s face while he speaks about colors and mixing like Y/N is an imbecile about basic color combinations high school students used in their PowerPoint presentations. Yet despite them all, Yoongi still refuses to explain to her the jargon in Steven’s reports.

Y/N tried her best to keep herself from bursting and giving Yoongi an earful of sense. Yes, everyone knows she does not like Yoongi but Y/N doesn’t want them to know to what extent she can go to express them, afraid of embarrassing herself. But in her defense, three days into the first week without Nancy, Yoongi has gone as far as to chip a small bit off Y/N’s mug in the break room. The mug with the “creative juices” in cursive printed around its body—Mina’s gift from college. Y/N’s patience meter was blasted off the roof. It will be safe to tell that at the end of the day, Y/N has screamed the hell out of Yoongi that everyone can be sure the latter’s ears may have fallen out of his head. Steven was close to reporting to Teddy what just happened. It was just Y/N’s remaining luck that helped her successfully and implicitly begged Steven not to do so by telling him calling Yoongi “a mean, inconsiderate, self-absorbed jerk who should eat his shit because people are what they eat and he is obviously the biggest shit in her life,” is just her “unique” way of expressing co-worker appreciation to the man.

Aside from putting up with Yoongi’s Satanic attitude, Y/N has to endure Nancy’s intermittent calls with her forever pissed voice coming in first thing in the morning until in the late, ungodly hours. And despite Teddy’s patient guidance over Y/N’s “transition” to the Creatives Team, Y/N’s still close to digging a six-feet deep hole in her station. No, not because of Teddy or Nancy. It’s because she poured her remaining effort dedicated for work by spending the entire week going through every staff member of Travel Loca. Y/N thought Mina must have overlooked a face. That it’s possible Jisoo skipped on a detail she told to her friend. But despite learning Lee Minyoung from the Writing Department is going to call it quits to her boyfriend just after Valentine’s, or how Michael Park from Marketing is about to pop the ring to his girlfriend just right on Valentine’s Day, the looming fact Y/N dreads presents itself on January 24, two weeks before Valentine’s: No one else in the office is single but her…and Min Yoongi.

Of course, it didn’t surprise Y/N, Yoongi must be single. With that know-it-all façade and condescending tone wearing you out like a 24/7 walking instruction manual no one even asked for, who would even like to date him? One week with him as a co-worker alone already makes Y/N want to throw herself into the flaming hot pit of the nearest volcano.

But it’s only two more weeks before Valentine’s and Y/N is desperate and desperate times call for desperate measures. Y/N did a last-minute check-up on her and Mina’s lists of contacts—phone, social media, e-mails, everything under the sun—only to come up with nothing. Mina’s “marrying age” theory must be true because everyone, every single one, of their acquaintances are already married or getting married. Y/N then changed up her game. She started to opt for resources she never thought she will ever use in her life: dating apps. Tinder, Bumble, The League, Grindr—name it, Y/N had made every account for every conceivable dating site. She even spent the most of her break time this week hiding her phone beneath her desk and swiping right. But even this last considerable option proved to be pointless as all the replies she received are either honest “sorry, not interested,” rude “you’re no fun,” or out-right salacious “suck my dick.”

This then left Y/N no choice but to consider the most unspeakably horrendously unfortunate option she didn’t even want to have. Min Yoongi is her only choice left. And for that, Y/N spent two days making an elaborate plan. She can’t afford any loose threads or plan-holes that can further make her at the mercy of the infuriating jerk. However, even if she made everything as seamless as it can be, Y/N knows it will be the worst decision she’ll ever make in her life. Mina also expressed the same concern, even apologized for planting that small information about Yoongi in her friend’s mind. But even her friend’s day-by-day discouragement to push through with her plan is not enough to deter Y/N.

Because even if just thinking about the plan makes Y/N feel the world is about to crumble and swallow her down in its unending, fathomless depths; even if it makes her want to set up an appointment with an exorcist, Y/N knew she won’t back out. It’s not viruses or bacteria, it’s a seeded idea that is the most contagious living entity that can take hold of any human being. And the moment Y/N realized there’s no other ticket way out of her dilemma but Yoongi, she knew this thought will haunt her for nights on end.

This is the reason why Y/N’s currently standing by the corner of the Creatives’ office when it’s already 6:46 P.M. while almost everyone has left the office. Almost, because Yoongi, apart from her, is the only one left in the office as Steven requested him to finish a color palette by tonight. Y/N gulps a thick blob of saliva. Sweat runs thick on her forehead. God, if Mina could see what Y/N’s about to do, she will be already by her side, yelling for her to just give up. Y/N shakes her head. This is Mina’s fault anyway. If she didn’t plant the idea in her head, she wouldn’t have to do this. She wouldn’t be creeping behind a door like a disgusting stalker. She wouldn’t be profusely sweating in an air-conditioned room like a guilty murderer. She wouldn’t be-

“What the hell are you doing behind the door?”

Y/N shrieks and jumps a half-foot away from her spot.

“The hell—what’s gotten into you?!” Yoongi frowns, “And why are you even here?”

Y/N’s brows meet together in her forehead. But before she can speak, Yoongi’s snickers drown out the words in her throat.

“Wait, don’t tell me you’ve come as far as spying on my work. I didn’t know you’re going to be this petty,” Yoongi sighs and puts his hand on his waist, “Well, if you think going through my work laptop will get you to understand Steven’s report, I’m sorry to say you won’t get anything, little girl.”

Yes, it’s true. The words did die out in Y/N’s throat. It’s just flames of anger sweeping in the valleys of her mouth. Y/N surges forward, fists clenched tight, “‘Little girl’? I am not a fucking little girl!”

Yoongi grins, “Then what should I call someone who’s a foot smaller than me?”

“What fucking ‘foot’?! We’re just inches apart! Have you ever seen yourself in a mirror? You’re not even that tall!”

“Says the one who’s looking up at me just to level her eyes with mine,” Yoongi raises his brows, “and who’s now standing a little too close to me because apparently, standing a socially-decent foot away won’t enable her to see my face.”

Y/N’s eyes widen and she immediately takes a step back. She doesn’t get how easy it is for Yoongi to rile her up that she instantly forgets how to control her body. When she looks up at him, the man is smirking at her. Her mouth aches to tell him he actually looks stupid with that lopsided smile if he thought doing it will make him a tad bit inch sorry excuse of “sexy.” But then, Y/N remembers she has a purpose tonight. She didn’t just waste an hour waiting in the excruciating office space of the Creatives Team just to get nothing done.

Y/N closes her eyes and breathes out. When she opens them again, she looks at Yoongi in the eyes. “I’m not here to fight with you, Yoongi. I’m here to make an offer.”

Yoongi scoffs, “An offer? You? Are you hearing yourself right now? In case you weren’t informed, I don’t need anything from you. And I didn’t—”

“You’re single right?”

Yoongi gawks at her, “W-what?”

“Well, I’m single, too. And Valentine’s week is coming in two weeks.”

“So?”

Y/N tries not to grit her teeth, “So, that means the Heart Holiday is also coming. Nancy is bound to come back during that time, too, with an obvious incoming large workload to come for me. I can’t afford to hole myself up in this office while everyone gets to enjoy a paid holiday week. And since you have an affinity for disliking your job, I figured you also wouldn’t want to go to work during Valentine’s week.” Y/N crosses her arms, “So I’m here, Min Yoongi, to give you an offer: Fake date me for two weeks to make it to DRM’s PRS’ application deadline. When our application gets approved, we part ways and never speak about what happened in these two weeks. It’s a win-win situation. I don’t get to work during Valentine’s. You also don’t get to work, and we both will still get paid. So, what do you say?”

Yoongi just stares at her. Y/N could feel cold sweat running from her scalp and down to her back. Why is he looking at her like that? Why is he being so silent? Is he about to make fun of her and bring it up to work tomorrow? Oh God, Y/N shouldn’t have even gone through with this plan. This is a bad idea. A bad, bad, bad, idea that should have never been entertained and buried in a trunk of embarrassing memories, never to see the light again—

“I’m in.”

Y/N freezes, “W-what?”

Yoongi takes a step closer to Y/N. He leans forward, closing the distance between their faces into mere six inches. Y/N doesn’t need to crane her head up anymore because this time, their eyes are finally leveled with each other.

Yoongi smiles, “I’m telling you, Y/N, I’m in in your plan.”

Y/N looks at him. She just looks at him. Five seconds have already passed. Yoongi should be laughing in her face right now. But the man did not, and takes a step back away from her. He fixes his satchel on his shoulder and closes the Creatives’ glass door behind him shut. When Yoongi looks back at Y/N, he gives her a shrug, “Hey, if you’re not going home, I am.” He heads for the main door, hands dug into his pockets. Y/N’s eyes just follow his figure. Before Yoongi completely gets out of the office, he hollers, a hand cupping over his mouth, “I said I’m already in in your plan. You can go now. See you tomorrow.” He sends Y/N one last smile.

It takes Y/N five more seconds before she breaks her frozen stance. What did just happen? Yoongi didn’t laugh at her. He didn’t put up a fight. He….agreed? Just like that? This is impossible. This cannot happen! Yoongi doesn’t agree, he argues! Always! And he just doesn’t bid her goodbye and “see you tomorrow.” Yoongi annoys her with one last hit of “goodbye, grandma.” And Yoongi doesn’t smile. He smirks. He just pulls up one side of his lips, squints his eyes, and snorts. Y/N must be going crazy. This is not Yoongi! A whole different man has suddenly appeared before her. This cannot be!

But despite all the things going back and forth in her head right now, there’s only one looming thought on top of them all that had Y/N release a staggered breath:

What the fuck did she just get herself into?

next | series masterlist

Disclaimer: This first chapter is based on Netflix’s Set It Up (2018), particularly Nancy’s briefing scene and the USB scene. Netflix’s Set It Up (2018) is the inspiration for this fic and so I based Ms. Nancy’s personality on Lucy Liu’s portrayal of Kirsten Stevens! Ms. Lucy Liu was fantastic in her performance! That being said, all scenes and references from the movie used in this story are the property of its respective owners. The rest belongs to the author. This work is for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement is intended. Anyways, if you wish to watch the movie, don’t worry about encountering any spoilers in this fic!

A/N pt. 2: Hi hons! I decided to cut this fic into parts as this will be very long (hello banter dialogues). Writing a 25+k wordcount (so far, this is my assumed final wordcount) may overwhelm a lot of readers and make them not want to read this anymore ☹ Anyway, the succeeding parts will be released soon as I already have a detailed storyboard and outline for this mini-series so you don’t have to wait that long. Thank you for giving this fic a chance, hons. Also, feedback is more than appreciated. Tell me what you guys think! ♡♡♡ \(> u

Taglist: @fangirls94 @ditttiii @chogiyeol-utopia

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third-generation-female-warrior · 4 years

Text

The Path we Walk

Talbott x Ravenclaw!Alexus oneshot

I just wanna see if anyone wants to read my writing (4,318 words) They’re idiots in love, you’re honor, with one count mutual pining in the 1st degree, and multiple accounts of angst/comfort in the 2nd degree.

Talbott Winger had never been an emotional person. Ever since he lost his parents when he was a child, he had no need nor want for emotions, or attachments to other people for that matter. He didn’t want that pain again.

So when Mr. Winger found himself feeling a romantic pull towards Alexus Johnson, a Ravenclaw girl in his year, he was torn perfectly between fear and annoyance.

He hadn’t initially thought there wasn’t anything remarkable about Alexus when he first met her when she was inquiring about being an animagus. Now, he knew otherwise. She was determined and clever, almost dangerously so. She had an annoying determination to be his friend, a dedication to him that had become endearing over time. He looked at her, and he saw someone he actually trusted, someone he let himself care about before he realized he cared about her. He furiously reflected on remarkable Alexus as he trudged up the snowy steps to the Owlery.

‘She’s annoying,’ he thought. ‘She’s insufferable, persistent. Too persistent. She’s quiet, comfortingly so. Clever. Too clever and too kind to the point where she seamlessly weaved through the obstacles and barriers that I had put up to keep the rest of the world out. Clever to where she could match wits with me, I didn’t even know I admired that…’

Talbott nearly screamed in frustration. As much as his head told him to resist, as much as he was reluctant to allow it, he’d only get hurt again, Alexus had definitely become one of his best friends before she became someone he was attracted to. Her closeness to him only intensified his feelings and he wasn’t sure if he hated it.

He shoved his hands into his pockets as he reached the entry to the Owlery. He looked forward only in time to see a face right before he collided into that person, chin first.

He stumbled back, clutching his jaw, brief yelling muffled into his palms. He glared down at the person who had stumbled back opposite to him. Then his expression softened when he saw that it was, of course, Alexus Johnson, like his life was a cliché novel that he himself wouldn’t bother to read.

But he didn’t let her see the waiver in the mask he wore, hardening his expression again into that of annoyance.

“I should have known it was you,” he snapped.

“Oh, sod off and watch where you’re going,” Alexus retorted, holding a hand to her forehead. That must have been where his chin collided, which made sense, since, not only was he considerably taller than most students, but she was rather shorter than most their year. This had led to more than one occasion of him daydreaming about holding her in his arms so she could tuck her head perfectly under his chin.

He let a small smirk cross his sharp face as he looked at her.

“Come here to sulk?” she continued.

“Only if you are,” he replied, earning a small laugh out of her.

“No, I was actually sending a letter to my mother…” she muttered the last bit, knowing the topic of mothers were rather touchy for the both of them.

Talbott imagined it was a rather large possibility that he was the only person who knew that her mother was almost totally despondent, ever since the infamous Jacob Johnson disappeared. There was also the mysterious fate of her father she grappled with. Though, what that fate was, Alexus still had not revealed to him. Her mother was a topic that Alexus had not divulged to him so easily, only in a moment of softness, when he revealed the tragedy of his parents. It was solid grief they felt for each other that night. Missing their family was another thing they had in common.

He gave her a slight nod of acknowledgement, the silence between them that of a knowing air that no more words of the topic needed to be discussed.

“So, any new information on the Vaults?” he asked, changing to a topic that he knew she had no qualms talking about.

She shifted on her feet, thinking about her answer. “No. Not really. Cold leads, for a majority, but there is something promising that Jae Kim is looking into for me.”

“Yeah? What sort of things?” he asked.

“Oh, it’s… it’s probably for the best if you don’t know. The less you know, the safer.”

He scoffed at her words, but he didn’t press more. He had heard a rumor or seven about Alexus and Jae Kim’s exploits to spots with dark wizards. “Do you have anything you’re doing in the meantime?” he asked.

“Just regular student activities. Gotta do something to make the professors think I’m normal. Friends as well. Valentine’s is in a couple days and it seems some of the Circle is rather concerned. I should do things to take my mind off the Vaults, you know, and romance seems to be their answer.” She spoke with a hint of disdain at the prospect of her entire scenario, and Talbott wished he could sympathize, but no one was particularly interested in his own dating habits enough to berate him. But he would still imagine it was annoying.

“I’m sorry,” he said, grimacing at the prospects of forced social interaction.

“It’s all fine, but the worst of it is that they seemed determined to find a date for me rather than ask me whom I would like to be with.”

His heart faltered for just a second before fluttering. He swallowed before he spoke again, hoping nothing about him was betraying his internal eagerness. “Any likely candidates?” he asked, voice even.

“Actually, yes. For them, they seem to think Barnaby Lee would be a good distraction.”

Talbott heard glass shattering in the distance, but he knew it was just in his head. “Oh?” he pressed.

“Yes. I admit, he would be good at lifting my spirits, but… he’s more a brother to me than anything else. Well, he has been something of a brother to me, since Jacob… you know. Barnaby is sweet, he’s kind and funny, but… I just don’t feel anything romantic for him. He’s a bit too energetic for me. I like someone more…” she trailed off for a second before focusing on Talbott. “Someone more… calm,” she spoke, resolved.

Talbott swallowed again, his throat drying up rapidly right now. “Seems like you have an unlucky lad in mind already,” he remarked.

She smirked and folded her arms over her chest. “Actually, I do.”

He was hoping his blush was not so visually obvious as he felt it was, his face was burning. “Anyone I know?” he asked.

She stared up at him for a second, her emerald green eyes meeting his piercing scarlet ones.

“You are… so daft!” she shouted. He jolted back, her voice resounded across the snowy sky, muffled by the weather, but still loud enough to shake the nearby owls, the fluttering of many wings resounding through the air like a shaky echo of her exclamation.

“I’m describing you! I’m thinking about you! It’s always been you! Merlin knows why, you’re thicker than a brick wall!” She threw her arms up in frustration as he slowly processed what she was saying.

Then, a slow, mischievous smile crossed his face. It was a relief that she felt the same way, but it was also a sense of victory that he had over her. She admitted her feelings first.

“You fancy me?” he started as Alexus realized the ammunition that she had handed over to him.

He almost laughed. “You call me thick, but you’re the one who just confessed from pure frustration!”

She pulled out her wand and made a quick job of knocking him down onto his bum. He just laughed, out loud.

“You’re the worst! You’re insufferable!” she yelled again before walking past him, disappearing down the stairs of the owlery.

He watched her leave, the smile never leaving his face. He will talk to her later today, apologize, maybe confess his returned affections, but for now, he felt like flying. Someone liked him. Someone whom he himself liked very much.

~ ~ ~

Night came, and so did curfew. Talbott waited in the corner of the Ravenclaw common room anxiously, waiting for Alexus to return. He had not seen her since their encounter earlier that day, but she was bound to return. Though, he did consider the idea that she might not. Her disregard for the rules and intellectual prowles had led to her spending the night in the library in secret, doing research on a miscellaneous number of things all throughout their six years at Hogwarts. He hoped that this was not a night where she needed to be gone.

Talbott almost had an overwhelming instinct to apologize for laughing, but they both knew it was the nature of their relationship. Chiding wits and quips, mixed with heavy sarcasm. It has been that way since they’ve known each other. He took another deep breath as he waited. He looked up every time someone came in, but none of them were Alexus.

Slowly, the number of students filing into the Common Room started to dwindle until no one was coming in anymore.

Talbott was feeling uneasy when Badeea Ali and Tulip Karasu came from their dorm room, the same dorm Alexus would be in. He stood up and silently made his way over to them. He almost felt apprehensive when they stopped talking as he approached, but he persisted nonetheless.

“Is Alexus in her dorm?” he asked tentatively, “I have something I need to tell her.”

“I haven’t seen her since dinner,” Badeea replied, almost in a contemplating way, some subtle emotion in her voice, and Talbott did not miss the small gleam in Tulip’s mischievous dark eyes. He remembered Alexus storming off, so it was not an illogical step that she told her friends a filtered version of what had transpired between them. Then he remembered the whole complaint about her friends in the Circle trying to set her up with someone for a date, Tulip would definitely be one to tease Alexus about her romantic quests, especially with Talbott.

“Oh, sorry, I’ll just… head up, then,” he started to excuse himself, making his way to his own dorm, but they stopped him.

“At dinner, Jae Kim came to the table, told her that his “contact” or something was ready to meet her,” Tulip recounted.

“Uh… did he happen to mention where this meeting was taking place?” he asked, but the fact that it was Jae, the fact that she told him it was safer if he didn’t know, it wasn’t hard to draw a conclusion as he had done earlier.

Alexus was a smart girl, one of the brightest students in their whole year. But she could be the thickest person in all of Hogwarts when the Cursed Vaults were in her mind.

“It’s hard to say, she’s rather secretive when it comes to her exploits with Jae. But for specific locations, she did not say a word. She just took off,” Badeea explained.

Talbott pursed his lips and gave them a nod, collecting himself without another word before he went upstairs to his own dorm. No one was in there, which was what he needed before he opened the window. He took off into the night sky as he assumed his animagus form, an eagle. He had a strong idea where Alexus currently was, and that gave him an educated guess as to where she was going to end up before the night was through.

He flew through the castle, elegantly, weaving between the highest walls with practiced ease, navigating the way to the Hospital Wing, or, at least, the outside of it. If Alexus had gone exactly where he thought she had, he imagined that the smartest girl in their year would have said something just as smart, more than likely to the wrong wizard. Or, maybe she was pursuing one of the dark wizards of ‘R’. It wasn’t so long after she was attacked by the black lake, she could very well be attacked again. The more he thought about it, the more it made sense to Talbott that she was going to be turning up in the Hospital Wing.

He circled a small thicket of trees outside the wing before he landed on a branch, perching close enough to the windows to where he could see a majority of the interior.

He waited now, every person moving had his head turning, every sign, any sign, he watched.

For an hour, there was no sign of Alexus, however, and no sign of anyone really, and the moon was slowly crawling higher into the sky. Talbott entertained the possibility that maybe Alexus would seek alternative help for healing, if she needed it, maybe to avoid the suspicion of the teachers. If that was the case, he would bring himself to inquiring Chiara Lobosca at breakfast.

For an hour, he waited, not quite ready to go back to the dorm yet, when the doors of the Hospital Wing were thrown open, and three people came in, one of them unconscious, carried on the back of another while the third urgently enlisted Madam Pomfrey.

Talbott immediately recognized Alexus being carried by Ben Cooper, Jae Kim running to Pomfrey. He watched as she was carefully lowered onto a bed. From what he could see, she was not bleeding, but the finer details were a bit harder to make out, and no blood wasn’t a definitively better sign.

Ben and Jae stepped back, and after some small exchange with Pomphrey, they left.

Talbott watched for another second of Pomfrey caring for Alexus before he resolved himself and flew away. He was worried, yes, but he knew Alexus. She was strong, and was bound to be okay. She had to be okay, it wouldn’t have made sense otherwise. He would be there for her, when she wasn’t okay, he would see to it himself that she was okay.

~ ~ ~

Alexus’s eyes shot open and she gasped, moving to sit up and whip out her wand to send a quick spell to the nearest danger, but was pushed back down when an explosion of pain raked through her body.

“Easy, easy,” she heard a soft voice next to her say as she was slowly pushed back down.

She took a calmer breath and looked around. Hospital Wing, not Knockturn Alley. Daytime, the morning judging by the position of the shadows being casted by the natural sunlight fluttering in from the windows. No dark wizards inflicting curses on her.

She blinked a bit, focusing her vision before slowly turning to the person at her bedside.

“Talbott,” she whispered, her throat sore, unable to speak much louder at the moment. But it was unmistakable, the sharp-featured Ravenclaw boy whom she fancied, his red eyes filled with concern and worry.

“Yes, unless you were expecting someone else,” he muttered as he reached over to the nightstand. He did not miss the strain in her voice, and grabbed a small glass of water perched there. She took it carefully, hands shaking, but grip not so weak. She took the water in small sips, drinking enough before handing the half-empty glass back to him.

“Better?” he asked.

She nodded and let herself relax into the bed. It was hard to relax, being tortured for an indistinguishable amount of time by the Cruciatus Curse in a dark alley could have that effect on a witch.

“You were actually one of the last people I expected, after you laughed at me,” she muttered.

Talbott smiled softly, despite himself. “It was a laugh of relief, Alexus.”

She had half a mind to tell him to leave. “What would you possibly be relieved about?”

He leaned back into his seat, and she looked up at him. “You mean it’s not obvious?” he asked, “It’s a mutual feeling. I… fancy you too.”

She sat up abruptly again before pain pushed her back down. “I ought to hex you!” she whispered harshly, unable to raise her voice into a proper yell.

“You’re in no right shape to do so,” he chided.

“Careful, Winger, I won’t be in this bed forever.”

His face blanched at the smug look that crossed her face, but he steeled himself. “You’re uncharacteristically temperamental right now, emphasis on mental.”

“You get tortured, see if that doesn’t make you a little mental.”

He sighed and watched her face. She looked cross, brows furrowed, lips tugged down, but in her eyes, it was different. He’d seen that look before, the look of frayed terror and exhaustion. The ordeal weighed on her more than she was willing to admit, and he understood. The pride, the expectations, the appearance. She’d been through too much before she stepped foot on Hogwarts, they both had. But her life had not gotten easier, not with the betrayal, the death, the attacks. She found Jacob, but at what cost? She had lost him, and she was looking for him again.

Talbott knew that Alexus’s pursuit of the Vaults was no longer just the pursuit of knowledge that no one had obtained before. In her heart, in her pursuit was all just for the chance to see her brother, one more time. Talbott would give anything to see his mother just once, if only for a second.

He slowly slid his hand over hers, gently linking his fingers with hers, a gesture that she reciprocated.

“You know… it’s… it’s not the torture that was the hardest part. It’s not the hardest part of this journey, of this path that I’m walking. N-not by a long shot,” she whispered, faltering at her words, lacking the strength to speak, but not for the reasons that were obvious.

He just tilted his head in a silent inquiry for her to say whatever she needed to say. He would listen.

She took a shuddering breath. “It’s… it’s hard finding people, finding friends who will still want to walk with me, once they realize how serious my path is.” She let go of his hand, slowly moving it away. She turned away from him, not able to meet his eyes anymore.

He kept watching her. She spoke vaguely, she spoke seriously, and he read between the lines, maybe the rehearsed speech she prepared for him, prepared for anyone who dared to get close. She was asking him if he would be someone who still wanted to walk with her. Not just in a path of friendship, but if he liked her, she was terrified of him getting hurt. Worrying about him, making him relieve the one thing he wanted to and had been trying to avoid for a majority of his life because of the choices she made.

This was something he thought about, often. More often than he cared to admit, wondering what his feelings met in the long term, knowing full well that Alexus may walk out the door and never come back. She could very well die in front of him, and he knew that.

“Everything… is with risk in life, Alexus. I know that. It’s just a matter of knowing which risks to take, the one’s you’d be willing to take. I know which ones I want to take unwaveringly so.”

“That doesn’t mean that I should risk the lives of others in my own pursuit of knowledge.”

“No, you shouldn’t, you shouldn’t even be risking your life for that matter, but here we are. That said, I know why, Alexus. I know why you’re doing this. And I hope you realize that I’m not the only one who thinks you’re worth the risk.”

Alexus looked back at him, mouth agape, eyes wide, trying to speak, but nothing came out. Eventually, she closed her mouth and looked down, hiding her face. “I can’t abandon the path I’m on,” she whispered. He noted her fists clenching the bedsheets, the slight shaking of her shoulders.

She was crying.

She was crying, and she didn’t want him to see.

Soft sniffling came from her before she looked up at him, eyes glistening. “I’ve come too far. I can’t give up on him…”

Ordinarily, he’d be looking for any excuse to leave immediately the second anyone gave any indication they were about to have a heart to heart, but Talbott felt an even greater pull to Alexus, a compelling force to comfort her, to make the tears disappear.

“I know you can’t. If I was in your shoes, I know I wouldn’t be able to either. So the best thing I can do is stay by your side. Walk your path with you, because you are someone I can’t walk away from. Not anymore.”

Her expression relaxed before she furiously wiped the tears away with her thumb. “You’d do that?” she whispered.

“I would.”

“Thank you.”

He looked at her, his eyes piercing at her with a certain sharpness, almost calculating. Then, they weren’t calculating. Every so subtly, his expression softened, a quiet admiration, still easily mistaken for something steeled. He did have a reputation, afterall.

She smiled, finally. He felt some pride, having contributed to that.

“So,” she started, her smile turning into something a little more mischievous, reminding him of Tulip’s persistent presence at breakfast that morning, and he had a sneaking suspicion she had correctly guessed his emotions for her.

“So…?” he repeated, quirking an eyebrow.

“So, would you be willing to walk the path with me… on Valentine’s Day?”

His face heated up immediately, and he pressed a hand to his mouth, trying to hide the blushing. “I’d love to,” his muttered utterance stifled by his hand.

She grinned more. “Don’t worry, Winger, it’ll be somewhere quiet. Hopefully, the Hospital Wing is quiet enough for you.”

“Oi, I didn’t think you’d stay here for that long!”

“No, I plan to be out by tonight, but… well, nothing is certain in the future.”

“Well, I’ll have you know, the Hospital Wing is plenty quiet, but don’t you go and take that as an invitation to go and get trampled by a hippogriff or whatever you do in your spare time.”

“You’re stupid,” she said, almost laughing. “But I take risks, as we said.”

“You’re the stupid one,” he shot back. “Take risks, but just be fine. For three days, be fine. Okay? You need the rest.”

She gave a small nod. “Okay.”

He gave a small sigh before leaning down and pressing a kiss to her cheek, only for a second, but a good and soft second.

He pulled away, and they were both satisfied to find that the other was visibly flushing red.

It was pride that made them blush. A sense of things such as reputation and unfamiliarity to vulnerability and fear that created that pride.

It was a display of affection that was tremendous to him. Unfamiliarity in the sense that it had been years since he had done like that. Talbott had not kissed anyone on the cheek since he was kissing his mother goodbye. That memory brought fear, and he couldn’t show anyone he was afraid. That was his pride. He could be afraid in front of her. He could display tremendous actions to her.

It was warmth in her chest and the secure feeling the action signified to her that was unfamiliar to her. Alexus had not been kissed on the cheek since her mother was coherent. The memory, to her, was a bittersweet rage that was more bitter than sweet. No one had cared for her, no one to care about her, to give her comforting gestures, to make her feel safe. She had to let the world know she was unflappable, perfectly in control unlike the speculation of her maddened brother. That was her pride. She could be vulnerable to him. She could let him get close enough to give her a sense of security that she had feared would never envelope her again.

He slowly slid his hand over hers again before he reached into the bag at his feet. “Would you be bothered if I read to you?” he asked as he pulled out a blue-leather bound book. He held up the cover so she could read it. A collection of poems from a particular author. She was familiar with the book, actually on the waiting list in the library to check it out, poetry being something she was very fond of.

She looked at him, and he flushed again. “I-I have imagined reading allowed to someone I cared about. Something about sharing the feeling of a good poem always attracted me.”

She smiled. “I would love that.”

He returned her smile, and, with one hand, flipped to a page he had marked previously. “There’s a few I thought you would enjoy,” he muttered before clearing his throat.

“The sun was hot You were cool My mother's flowers were beautiful My mother's flowers were safe Your flowers were new Your garden a gift Your love is mine My love is yours

You're a winter husband I'm the summer's daughter My mother's flowers were safe My mother's flowers were a cage Your flowers were a life Your garden a haven My love is yours Your love is mine

You were strong I was helpless My mother's flowers bloom for me My mother's flowers are a gift Your flowers are ours Your garden is ours Our love is ours Our love is life”

He looked at her when he finished. Alexus had a soft smile on her face. “That’s Persephone’s Husband, isn’t it?”

He nodded.

“That’s one of my favorites. Any poems about Hades and Persephone have a place in my heart.”

He almost snickered. “I never took you for being romantically inclined, you’re so logical.”

“Just shut up and read, Winger.”

28 notes · View notes

virtueangel · 4 years

Text

limitless.

chapter thirteen.

wc: 2,245. original publish date: october 27, 2020.

"Christ, Jack, what did you do?" Van Gogh mutters. He and JFK are in the master bathroom, Kennedy sitting on the tiled floor while Vincent sits on the side of the bathtub, scrubbing John's arm with a warm rag, fresh blood trickling into the basin.

"Exactly what you told me not to," John replies, smiling.

Van Gogh and JFK sat on the rollercoaster track for some amount of time -- it could've been minutes or hours, it made no difference to them. They didn't talk outside of the occasional, your eyes are pretty or your skin is soft, and eventually they stood up and walked back to the service ladder. They'd gotten lucky on their ascent, managing to avoid all the rusty metal. On their descent, though, JFK hadn't been so good at avoiding.

Vincent takes the rag off of John's arm to examine the wound. There's a small amount of blood trickling out of it, but he can't see any rust contaminating his boyfriend's skin anymore. He gives one last swipe with the rag, smearing the blood from the wound before dabbing it up with the cloth. From the cardboard box on the lip of the bathtub next to him, Van Gogh fishes out a big rectangular bandaid and peels back the paper. He sticks it to JFK's arm, the cut vanishing from sight.

"You got your shot, right?" Vincent asks, an unwelcome twinge of panic seeping into his voice. "I could never live with myself if you got tetanus under my care."

"Under your care, huh?" Kennedy jokes. Van Gogh raises a warning eyebrow. "Yes, I got my tetanus shot," he adds in a more controlled voice.

Vincent smoothes down the bandaid before crumpling up the paper in his palm. "Good," he says before turning away and depositing the wrapper into the trashcan.

JFK bends his arm and looks down at it, assessing the bandage and the damage underneath. He smiles to himself in satisfaction. "You could be a doctor, Vinny."

Vincent laughs. "Yeah, because I'm so gentle."

Kennedy shrugs. "You didn't hurt me while you were patching me up."

Van Gogh turns to look at JFK, his elbow resting on the bathtub, his wet brown hair flopping over his face. The individual strands clump together, sticking to his forehead, his cheeks, his brow bones. He moves the hair out of his eyes with the back of his hand, and Vincent watches with a slack jaw.

When he finally gains his composure, and stops staring, he says, "I'm gentle with my hands, not with my words."

"You're gentle with your lips, too," JFK adds.

A sly smile tears across Vincent's face, and his cheeks glow pink. "Oh, stop that," he replies, shoving Kennedy playfully.

"Ow!" He whines, rubbing his arm in his over-exaggerated way. "Don't hit the wounded!"

"You're insufferable, my boy," Vincent smiles.

"Clearly you don't think so, considering you just saved me from tetanus."

Van Gogh laughs. "Come on, we don't need to be sitting on the bathroom floor anymore. I'm gonna go read." He stands up and heads for the bathroom door, JFK following shortly behind.

"Ooh, when he reads for fun!"

Vincent stops suddenly, and John nearly smacks into his back. "Jack."

"Vincent."

"We're missing school," he replies, turning around.

JFK and Van Gogh stare at each other for a couple of seconds, before bursting into mutual laughter.

"I don't care," JFK says once he catches his breath.

"Oh, me neither."

Van Gogh takes his book off of the nightstand on his side of the bed and pushes open the dormer window, listening to it squeal and shriek against the wind and rusty mechanism. He climbs out onto the balcony, setting his book down on one of the chairs before assessing how cool the air is and turning around to get a blanket.

"Are you going to come outside?" Vincent asks after retrieving a folded blanket from the bottom drawer of the dresser. JFK is sitting on the bed, the faint white glow of his phone screen illuminating his face.

He looks up at Van Gogh, his expression distant. "Hm? Oh, yeah in a second."

Vincent shakes the blanket, letting it out of its neat square before wrapping it around himself. "What're you doing?"

"Oh, you know..." JFK waves him off. "Just... texting."

Van Gogh stops, one hand on the dormer window, an eyebrow raised. "Who?"

John shrugs, as if to say no big deal. "Ponce de León."

"The guy with the weird pants?" Vincent asks.

JFK's eyebrows knit together, defensive. "His pants aren't weird!"

"I'm kidding," Vincent replies. Kind of.

Kennedy looks up from his phone when he feels Van Gogh still staring. "I'll be out in a bit. He just... needs some help on an assignment."

"Oh, because you'd be able to help."

JFK knits his eyebrows together. "Didn't you say earlier today that I'm smarter than I let on?"

Vincent scoffs. "You are smarter than you let on. But how could you possibly help Ponce with an assignment when you haven't even been at school?"

Kennedy begrudgingly switches off his phone, and rolls himself off of the bed. He picks up his own book from the nightstand on his side of the bed, and walks across the room until he's standing in front of Van Gogh.

"Come on," he says. "Let's go read on the balcony."

Vincent drops his book, and it thuds onto the hardwood floor. He winces internally, worrying about the paper cover bending backwards. He doesn't peel his gaze off of JFK to look at it, though. That's an issue for later.

"I'm not going to read," he says, his words curt.

"Are you going to draw?" JFK asks, and he can feel Vincent soften.

Van Gogh can never stay mad at Kennedy for long, not with his watercolour-green eyes boring into his brown ones. "Yes," he replies, his tone lighter and volume lower. "I am going to draw."

John glances at the book lying on the floor beside Van Gogh's socked feet. He nods toward it. "The cover's going to bend back."

Vincent bends his knees to pick up the book, never breaking eye contact with John. "Thanks," he says before brushing past the boy to switch out the novel for his sketchpad. He hears JFK step out the window and rest his foot on the balcony behind him. His phone is still sitting on the bed, the screen dim, but the phone unlocked. Van Gogh takes a guilty look behind him, making sure Kennedy is occupied.

If I could just see what they were really texting about... he thinks, and he takes the device in his hands. He taps the screen, restoring it to its full colour. His thumb hovers over the iMessage icon, but he stops himself before he can go any further. No, Vincent! Looking through your boyfriend's phone is a crazy boyfriend thing, and you're not a crazy boyfriend. He sets the phone back down on the bed and takes a deep breath, retrieving his sketchpad from his nightstand.

JFK is reading peacefully when Van Gogh steps back out onto the balcony. He seems to already be absorbed in his book.

"What class did Ponce want your help with?" He asks casually, still not convinced that leaving JFK's phone alone was the best decision to make.

The corners of Kennedy's mouth pull up. "Algebra II," he replies.

"You're not even taking that class," Vincent says, forcing a polite laugh.

John laughs with his full chest. Vincent's lips twitch. He always crumples under the boy's euphoria. "Yeah, I know. He always forgets that I'm in pre calc."

"Always?" Vincent asks, trying to make his voice sound bigger than he feels.

JFK laughs again, shaking his head. "Yeah. He always needs help with some of the later problems in the lessons. I guess he's too scared to ask the teacher for help."

Vincent opens his sketchbook, and his stomach lurches when he flips past an unfinished drawing of John. He remembers the day he drew it -- he sketched it from a picture he'd taken. Kennedy is sitting on his bed in Exclamation!, his Colgate model grin filling up his face and his eyes crinkling with laughter. His hand is shielding his face, like he didn't want Vincent to take the picture. His hair is bigger than ever, perfectly styled with hair gel. His green eyes are glowing. Van Gogh had almost forgotten what genuine happiness looked like.

"Well, I guess you would be able to help him with the answers, considering you took the class last year..."

JFK shrugs. "I guess so, but I didn't really retain anything."

Vincent smiles at the boy with the corner of his mouth, but John doesn't notice. He's already lost in his book again. Van Gogh shakes his head and looks away. JFK isn't a cheater. He's not good with commitment, but he wouldn't get into something if he couldn't stay in it. But then again, they never really had the conversation about monogamy...

Van Gogh rests the sketchpad on his lap, the unfinished drawing of John still smiling up at him.

"Jack?" He asks, the smallest whisper of hesitation in his voice.

JFK shuts his book, his finger wedged in between the pages, keeping his place. "Yes?"

Vincent swallows. "I think you're beautiful."

Kennedy returns the boy's smile before casting his gaze down at the portrait of himself. "Can I see?" He asks, extending an arm.

Van Gogh hands him the sketchpad without a second guess. JFK studies the drawing, an affectionate smile painting his lips and a soft glow in his eyes. "Why'd you draw it in coloured pencil?"

Vincent shrugs. "I thought it captured your aura."

"What does green mean?"

Van Gogh shakes his head. "I wasn't paying attention to that. I just like the colour of your eyes."

JFK looks up at Vincent, a fire burning in his heart as a similar fire burns in the boy's eyes. "Is that what makes me beautiful?"

Van Gogh looks away, shrugging. "I don't know. I'm noticing a lot of things about you that I hadn't before."

Kennedy wants to ask what he means, what he's noticing, but the boy is turned away and his shoulders are hunched. He doesn't ask for the sketchbook back. JFK guesses the conversation is over.

***

Van Gogh wakes up in the middle of the night, the wind howling through the cracks in the dormer window and the loose latch banging ominously. JFK is sleeping on his back and Vincent was sleeping on his stomach, his left arm and leg draped over his boyfriend. He rolls away from Kennedy, rubbing his eyes against the darkness. Next to him, John grunts.

"Shh," Vincent says.

"Vinny..." He whispers groggily, reaching for the boy.

Van Gogh rolls back over to JFK, giving him a light kiss on the lips. "Go back to sleep, Jack. It's still nighttime."

"So why are you awake?"

"Shh..." Vincent says again before climbing out of bed.

He creeps down the stairs, hand trailing over the railing, his footsteps soft. He walks through the archway to the kitchen, trying to rifle through the junk drawer next to the stove as quietly as possible. His hand closes around the box of matches, and he lifts it out of the drawer, glancing over his shoulder every other second. He walks the box to the kitchen table, where the magenta tapers are still sitting. He strikes the match against the side of the box, watching as it sparks and fizzes before his eyes. He inhales the scent of the sulphur and the burning wood, letting it wrap around his soul. The warmth nestles in his heart, and he is one with the fire. He feels himself burning from the inside out, his internal organs the wick and his skin the wax. He lights the magenta candles after a couple of seconds, his mouth relaxed and his face resting. The flames reflect against the whites of his eyes as the wicks of the candles catch fire and the wax begins to melt.

"Burn," he whispers. "Down to the wick, down to the floor. Take the whole town with you, take the whole world."

The light flicks on, and Van Gogh whips around. Standing in the archway is a groggy JFK, his hair disheveled and the bags under his eyes dark. He wipes a hand across his puffy face, his vision blurry.

"Vincent?" He asks, his voice drowned in mucus.

Van Gogh blows out the candle and the match, and sits on his hands. His eyes widen when he turns to Kennedy, his face flushed and lips red.

"Yes?"

"What are you doing?" John asks, and it sounds more confused than accusing.

Van Gogh shakes his head urgently. "I- I don't know. I just felt like I had to come down here. I felt too awake."

JFK squints, but doesn't make an argument. "Come back up to bed, Vinny. It's three in the morning."

Van Gogh nods, abandoning the matchbox and the candles. He follows JFK out of the kitchen, flicking the light off behind them. He grabs onto the boy's hand as they walk up the stairs, interlacing their fingers tentatively. John gives Vincent's hand a reassuring squeeze, pulling the shorter boy in closer to him. They climb into bed and assume the position they'd been sleeping in before, the left side of Van Gogh's body draped over JFK.

#clone high #clone high jfk #clone high van gogh #jfgogh #limitless

21 notes · View notes

rosegoldannie · 5 years

Text

Tell Me no Lies-Chapter 14

TW: Mentions of abuse

Aelin sighed, rubbing at her temples as her cheeks grew warm. Across the table, her roommate wore a disgustingly smug smirk, hands folded neatly behind his head. “Give up?” He jibed, that smirk only widening.

She only glowered back at him, then shifted her gaze back down to the task at hand: not losing a fifth game of battleship. Slowly, she placed her piece, and crossed her fingers. With two spaces left each, they both had an equal chance of winning.

Rowan remained stone-faced for several agonizing seconds, then- “Yes!” He shouted, jumping to his feet as he danced yet again round her. Aelin only rolled her eyes, and leaned back against the couch. He was insufferable. Utterly insufferable.

After yet another victory lap around the room, he at last slowed to a stop. “Here.” He muttered, tossing one of his hoodies towards her. “We’re going to get food.”

Catching the sweatshirt with a hiss, Aelin scowled. “We have food here.” What she didn’t say was that she was afraid of going outside, regardless of the fact that Arobynn had not been seen in over a week.

“Fine. I want artery-clogging food, and we have nothing of that in our kale-smoothie filled fridge.”

Huffing a sigh, she waved a hand up at Rowan, who practically jumped with glee, and scampered over to her, eagerly helping her to stand. As always, he made to ask if she was alright. And as always, she simply waved him away with half-hearted reassurances.

A slight glance out the window at the heavy snow made her grab a thick, black jacket, fluffy beanie and brown uggs. Leaning over her, Rowan wound a woolen scarf around her neck, and finished it into a bow. “There,” He beamed proudly, “a fair princess fit for a date with her prince.”

“You are so not my prince.” Aelin muttered, but still slid her arm through his, and allowed him to lead her out and down to the snowy streets.

Despite snow being a regular occurrence in Adarlan, very few cars were out with even fewer people. The mundane streets appeared to take on an otherworldly air. Utter silence surrounded them as they trekked through the snow, making idle conversation. When their conversation lulled, Aelin found that the silence that followed was natural, and comfortable.

Rowan kept her arm looped through his, her hand clutched to his chest, all the way through the biting cold, to their favorite coffee shop.

He only released her to open the door, a warm blast of air hitting her in the face. Aelin grinned, scampering as fast as her back would allow the glass display case filled with sugary-sweet Christmas treats. She knew without looking that her roommate was rolling his eyes, and grinned wider at the thought, a fuzzy feeling filling her chest. “That one.” She stated, pointing at a large triple-chocolate cupcake.

Sighing, he relayed their order, a chocolate mocha, the cupcake, and a cinnamon dolce latte with caramel drizzle, to the tired-looking cashier.

Once they were alone at the pick-up counter, Aelin raised an eyebrow at his order. “A cinnamon dolce latte? Really?”

Rolling his eyes, Rowan braced his forearms against the wooden counter, those green eyes sparkling. “Says the twenty-three year old who eats more candy than the average eight year old.”

She huffed, a smirk winding onto her lips. “And this comes from the twenty-six year old who lets a twenty-three year old walk all over him.”

Rowan groaned, a grin hidden by his hand. “I hate you so much.”

“I know!” She chirped, beaming.

A slight flush spread across his cheeks, highlighting those keen eyes.

Taking their food, they went to sit in front of a small fireplace next to a large window, overlooking the street. Aelin instantly curled up on the stone in front of the fireplace, savoring its warmth as Rowan dropped quite unceremoniously into a leather chair.

“So.” He began, taking a large sip of that ridiculously sugary concoction. “Christmas is coming up.”

Aelin grinned, munching on her cupcake. “Yes, it is.”

“And…? What are we doing?”

She froze, and chose her next words very carefully. “How do you mean?”

He scoffed, though there was no venom behind it. “You’re not working, are you?”

“No, why?”

A grin spread across his lips, that blush returning. “Perfect. What would you think if I asked you to spend Christmas with me?” Aelin didn’t respond, sensing that he wasn’t yet finished. “With just me.”

It felt as if her lungs collapsed, as if she had been set aflame. Cheeks blazing a bring red, butterflies roaring in her gut, all Aelin could do was nod and try not to choke on her hot chocolate. She failed, launching into a harsh coughing fit.

The next two hours passed in a blur of laughter and coffee. At some point, Aelin discovered that she had slowly migrated towards her roommate, as he had with her. Now, they were curled up together in front of the roaring fire with Rowan’s arm wrapped securely around her.

“Alright,” Rowan murmured, “I know Aedion and Lorcan, but who the hell were all those people the other night?”

Instead of the expected jolt of fear she expected upon remembering that night, Aelin found herself chuckling. “Okay, you know who Chaol is, right?”

“Yes. Your ex,” He stated.

“Yep. The Curly-haired woman is his wife, Yrene. The girl sitting with Lorcan is-”

“-Elide, I know. Lorcan’s friend, I think.”

“Girlfriend.” Aelin corrected teasingly, and savored Rowan’s shocked expression. “She’s mine and Aedion’s cousin. The woman with Aedion is Lysandra, his fiance,” At that, she nudged Rowan with her elbow, “who I most certainly am not.”

Rowan chuckled, ducking his head down to hide that glorious smile that warmed her heart, and gestured for her to continue. “The girl with the red hair is Evangeline, Lysandra’s sister, -- though we tend to call her Eva -- and the guy with her was Hollin. He’s the younger brother of Dorian, who I’m pretty sure you know. Then there’s his wife, Manon, the chic with the white hair.”

“Got it.” He muttered, turning his head towards her. “Manon’s the one who came to the car, right?”

Aelin’s cheeks turned red yet again, as her mind whisked back to their conversation in the car. What almost came after. Her voice was high when she responded. “Yep, that’s her.”

The next night, after Rowan dropped her off at the hospital with a homemade lunch and a very thinly veiled interrogation as to how she was feeling, Nesryn asked yet again if she had a secret boyfriend, and yet again Aelin denied it, though a strange feeling overwhelmed her at the thought of Rowan as her boyfriend. She quickly shook it off and returned to filling out charts

Just before she was meant to clock out for lunch, a young girl no more than twenty stumbled in the ER doors. With how bad her...everything...was aching, Aelin nearly told Nesryn to take care of the girl, but froze when she saw the bruises and blood on her face.

“Shit,” Aelin murmured, launching out of her seat towards the girl, whose blue-grey eyes now roved wildly around the empty waiting room.

The girl at last faced her, terror blazing in her eyes. “Hi, um, could you help me please? I-my-he’s coming-”

Aelin’s stomach dropped, suspicions raving through her mind. Shoving them aside, she wrapped a careful arm around the girl’s bony shoulder, internally shuddering, and led her back into the triage area, to begin her assessment.

“Alright sweetie, we’re almost done.” Aelin murmured, scribbling away onto the chart. “Can you tell me your name?”

“F-Feyre,”

Aelin shuddered, clenching her eyes shut for a millisecond, before returning to the tasks at hand. “Can you tell me what happened please?”

“No!” Feyre hissed, scooting up on the gourney, her brown hair flying out in every direction. “No.”

Sighing, she leaned forward carefully. “Feyre, they won’t know. We have a system in place for this. No one will know you’re here unless you want them too, alright?”

She nodded slowly, the terror seeming to dim in her eyes.

“Alright, what is a name you would like to go on the Hospital records?”

“Clare,” She whispered.

“Perfect,” Aelin murmured, making a note on the chart to have Feyre not be listed in the database. “And can you tell me what happened?”

When Aelin at last slipped out of Feyre’s room, she couldn’t hobble to the breakroom fast enough as she dialed Rowan’s number.

He answered right as she collapsed onto an old couch, her lunch now long forgotten in the fridge. “Hey.” She said, staring out the window towards the heart of the city.

“Hey.” He slurred. “S’vry thing going?”

Guilt flared through her upon realizing she’d awoken him. “Sorry for waking you, I just really need someone to talk to.”

Muffled shuffling came through her phone. “No, no. I was awake I promise.”

Aelin scoffed.

“I promise. Now, what did you want to talk about?”

“Nothing. Just distract me. Please.” Her voice broke on the last word, and she found her cheeks damp even as her heart raced and fury boiled her blood.

Rowan was silent for several seconds. “What happened? Are you alright?”

“Distract me, Ro. I don’t care what, just do it.”

Several more seconds passed, then- “If I tell you, you have to promise not to tell a soul.”

“I promise.”

“Lorcan told me today that he’s in love with Elide.”

“Old news.” Aelin stated. “We’ve known for months.”

“Old news, we’ve known for months,” Rowan mimicked in a high-pitched voice that sounded suspiciously like hers. “What I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted was that he and Elide are planning on getting an apartment together.”

She froze. “Really? Are you serious?” She said, wonder lacing her voice.

“Serious as a heart attack,” He chuckled.

“Wow.”

Crackling filled the air as the rarely used loudspeaker hissed to life. “Security to the Emergency Department. Code Grey. Security to the Emergency Department. Code Grey.”

“Aelin? What was that?”

“Nothing,” She lied, nausea tingeing her vision green.

A loud crash echoed through the halls as Sartaq threw open the door, and it crashed into the wall. “Ashryver, we’ve got a situation. We need your help. Now.”

Aelin was already on her feet before Sartaq had finished, murmuring a quick apology to her roommate before hanging up, and dashing after her coworker, who had disappeared into the maze of halls and doors.

She heard the commotion long before she arrived in the ER, narrowly avoiding a chair that had been hurled in her direction.

“Where is she?!” A tall, blonde man demanded, even as three security guards slowly crept towards him.

“We don’t know who you mean.” Nesryn called soothingly. “If you could just tell us her name-”

“-It’s Feyre!” He shouted, shoving out at a guard that Aelin recognized from the annual holiday party to be Ren.

“There’s no Feyre here.” Aelin hissed, slowly reaching into a drawer and withdrawing an anesthetic. Her blood roiled within her veins upon realizing who the man was, what he had done.

The man roared in fury, and threw another chair, this time at Nesryn, who unfortunately was not able to dodge it in time. She hit the floor with a thump, and shouted several colorful words.

Ren took that opportunity to lunge at the man, tackling him to the ground and pinning his arms. The other two guards secured his legs as Aelin launched over the counter, ignoring the agonizing crunch of her spine to ram the needle into the man’s calf. Almost instantaneously, he calmed and went limp.

Flames and knives ran up into her neck and skull down into her knees, and Aelin couldn’t fight it any longer, sagging into Ren, who damn near dropped her out of surprise. She sunk slowly to the floor, teeth dangerously close to cracking by how hard she was gritting them.

Carefully, Ren helped her back into the breakroom as several other nurses brought the man back into a private room far away from Feyre, to hold him until law enforcement could arrive.

After a few minutes, Aelin got shakily to her feet, and stumbled back to Feyre’s room, and carefully settled into the bedside chair with an audible groan. “I’m here as a friend.”

The girl looked over at her, confused concern swimming in her blue-grey eyes. “Are you alright?”

Aelin waved her off. “I believe I just had the pleasure of meeting your boyfriend.”

She huffed disgustedly, crossing her arms and staring down at the bruises that covered them. “Ex-boyfriend.” After a moment, she whirled to face her. “Wait he came here? You didn’t tell him I-”

“-We would never.” Aelin swore vehemently. “The police are on their way to pick him up now, and there’s no way he can avoid jail time, as he assaulted several nurses.” Upon seeing the horrified expression upon the young girl’s face, Aelin reached out a tentative hand to her. “Don’t worry though, they’ll be fine. Unfortunately, this isn’t all that uncommon.”

She was silent for several long moments. “Was he hurt?”

Studying her expression thoughtfully, Aelin came to the conclusion to tell her the truth. “He got stabbed with a lovely needle, then tackled. He’ll awake to either being in a jail cell or chained to a bed.”

“Good.” Feyre muttered. Then, “I have a favor to ask.”

“Go for it.”

“A friend of mine is on his way. Is he allowed to see me?”

“Only if you want him too.”

“I do.”

“Alright. What does he look like?”

“Black hair, dark skin and tall. His name is Rhys.”

Aelin smiled warmly at her. “I’ll see what I can do,” She murmured, before returning to the front desk. Though, she stopped by the breakroom to snag her phone.

Upon settling down into the blissfuly padded seats, she realized that there were several missed calls and texts from Rowan.

What is going on? Are you alright?

Please answer

Aelin just tell me you’re okay

Just answer please

Are you alright???

A large wave of guilt crashed through her as she typed her reply.

I’m fine, just work stuff. Pick me up at Seven?

His reply came only moments later.

Of course

Several times, she watched the typing bubbles appear then fade, only to reappear a few moments later.

Sighing, Aelin shoved her phone deep into her pocket, and returned to working on her charts, glancing up at the clock occasionally. Nesryn returned to the desk a short while later, around three in the morning, muttering several kind words about the man now under arrest in the back. “Yeah.” Her friend huffed, slamming down a thick folder of paperwork, no doubt a report to be filled out about the incident that had transpired. “Apparently that asshole’s name is Tamlin.”

“Tamlin?” She scoffed, jotting down a note on an elderly patient’s chart. “Geez, even his name radiates douche energy.”

Nesryn flipped through the stack of papers. “It gets better. You know the Greene corporation?”

“Mmhmm,” Aelin hummed, not fully paying attention, eyes instead trained upon a dark haired man outside the entrance, arguing with a red-headed man. She only turned back to her work once they both stormed off in opposite directions.

“Hey! Ash, you listening to me?” Her friend chastised, waving a hand in front of her face.

“Yeah, sorry.” She muttered.

“As I was saying, apparently his dad owns the Greene corporation. You know, the one that was indicted last year for dumping radioactive material into the river?”

Aelin glanced up. “Wait really?”

“Yep.”

She could only sigh, and shake her head.

An hour later, Tamlin was led out by the APD in cuffs, sporting several new cuts and bruises, his head held disgustingly high. He halted in front of the reception desk to sneer down at Aelin. “I will have your job for this, bitch.”

She could only scoff, more worried about the pain in her back than the piece of human garbage in front of her, and fought the urge to snap back at him, but managed to bite her tongue against the slew of vicious insults.

Once he was gone, she glanced up to the clock again, and was pleasantly surprised upon realizing her shift would end in less than an hour.

Then her eyes darted to a sudden movement, to see the same dark haired man from earlier pacing in front of the entrance.

Nudging her friend, Nesryn glanced up as well.

Upon realizing he was being watched, the man tentatively approached them. “Hi, um. I’m here to see a friend.”

Momentarily stunned by his intense violet eyes, Aelin had to clear her throat several times before she was able to speak. “Their name, please?”

“Feyre Archeron,” He murmured.

Aelin paused, turning her head to study him. Dark hair, dark skin. “What is your name, please?”

His eyes narrowed slightly, and his jaw ticked. “Rhysand Velaris.”

She nodded to herself, then stood against the stabbing pains. “Right this way,” She murmured, leading him back to Feyre’s room.

As soon as he saw her, Rhys practically shoved Aelin aside as he rushed to Feyre’s side, tears flowing freely down his face. Feyre threw her arms around his neck, sobbing as well.

She met Aelin’s eyes for a split second, and gave her a greatful, watery smile as she pulled Rhys closer. Rhys was murmuring something too low for her to hear, and Aelin took that as her cue to leave, and went to pick up her things knowing Rowan most likely had already arrived.

As she left the locker room, blissfully wrapped in Rowan’s hoodie, her phone buzzed with a new message, and dread instantly flooded through her. But it was only from her roommate.

I’m in the waiting room.

Surprise and shock rippled through her upon discovering he wasn’t in the same parking space as always, and Aelin found herself hobbling as fast as she could towards the Emergency Department, her duffel bag slapping wildly against her thigh.

She burst through the doors with a loud bang, and Rowan was instantly on his feet, moving towards her, and Aelin found herself dropping her bag and launching into his arms, burying her face deep in his neck.

His arms wrapped around her waist, lifting her up into the air as his forehead rested against her shoulder.

Aelin found herself crying silently in relief into his shirt, simply breathing in his Pine and Snow scent that reminded her oh so much of the mountains where she grew up, and she found herself feeling as if Rowan was her breath of fresh air.

Unable and unwilling to delve into what her feelings might mean, she was content to simply hold him and cry, regardless of the fact that they had an audience.

Let me know if you want to be tagged!!!

tag list: @sailorsassley @whiskeybusiness1776 @mad-scientist-pyromaniac @la7sorcellerie @dayanna-hatter @mis-lil-red

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sarcasticgaypotato · 5 years

Text

Another ChellDOS prompt fic as a thank you gift! I wasn’t given anything too specific to work with, just fluffy GLaDOS content. I hope it is enjoyed!

This wasn’t going to be difficult.

In the vast expanse of tasks that would be considered difficult- great feats of science, trying to make ATLAS and P-Body useful, not killing humans with deadly neurotoxin- this would not rank even close among them.

People made cakes all the time.

Aperture made cakes; with merely a press of a button, there would be an aesthetically perfect, mostly nontoxic, baked good just waiting for a deserving test subject to consume it.

If GLaDOS had simply been allowed to use that process, this would’ve been over in a heartbeat, and she could’ve gone back to more important things.

But no, Chell specified that she wanted GLaDOS to make her a cake for her birthday, by hand.

GLaDOS regretted ever letting the human look at a calendar in her time down here long enough to figure out when her birthday was, and start asking for things.

Who was Chell to be making demands anyway? All she did on this date all those years ago was have the misfortune of being born; that was hardly something to pamper her over. If anything, GLaDOS ought to have used this day to thank Chell’s mother for having the common sense to abandon the lunatic not long after.

The fact that GLaDOS was obliging her didn’t mean anything. It was just easier to keep such a destructive force pacified rather than risk being murdered again.

So, as GLaDOS reluctantly resigned herself to her mobile, android form- another idea of the lunatic’s; to make it so humanoid- she set off in the early hours of the morning, given that she didn’t need to sleep. Best to get this done so that Chell could wake up, see that GLaDOS had easily completed her menial task, and then wouldn’t be pestering her about it.

That was, assuming that the smell of burning didn’t wake her up at 2am first.

Stupid test subject kitchens, with their stupidly ineffective appliances… what stupid scientist made such a terrible design choice? Whoever it was ought to be dead-

Oh, wait, they already were.

Letting that thought give her a small sliver of satisfaction, GLaDOS disposed of the smoking remains of her first attempt before turning back to the counter. That was a fluke. This time, she’d have it over and done with before she knew it.

This wasn’t going to be difficult. Right?

...

It was 10am when Chell finally got out of bed, evidently taking her birthday as an excuse to sleep in several hours later than usual. Just because GLaDOS was letting Chell under her roof didn’t mean she wanted the human thinking that she was going soft; so she made a habit of not-so-nicely waking Chell up at 7am every morning.

But this time, she hadn’t.

Chell slowly roused herself from sleep, lazily padding her way out from her room towards the rest of the living quarters GLaDOS had so graciously gifted her, no doubt to make herself a cup of coffee- another luxury, mind you.

Her wild mane of dark hair was untamed and messy as it tumbled over her shoulders, and her usually powerful stance was cheapened by the way she slouched in her pajamas. Chell looked great terrible, and on any other day, GLaDOS would’ve taken the chance to make a snide comment- or twenty- about it.

However, on any other day, GLaDOS wouldn’t have been standing in the middle of Chell’s kitchen; covered in a dusting of flour, specks of batter, and smears of frosting, her left eye twitching dangerously.

Chell had stopped dead in her tracks, blinking and staring like a slack-jawed idiot at the sight before her. “Don’t you dare say a word.”

GLaDOS brought her gaze to Chell’s, hoping that her golden glare would bore holes into her companion’s thick skull and instill some kind of fear or respect. Unfortunately, it had rather the opposite effect; as she watched Chell’s previously groggy expression perk up with a sort of sparkle in those grey-blue eyes.

‘I wasn’t going to start now.’

Oh, GLaDOS should break those hands of hers.

“I am never doing anything for you ever again, do you understand?”

GLaDOS straightened up from where she had been hunched over the mess-coated countertop, standing up to her full height as Chell came closer, that infuriatingly smug smile still sitting pretty on her lips.

‘I’m sure you won’t.’

GLaDOS wasn’t sure how Chell had adapted sarcasm into her silent communications, but she wasn’t quite sure she appreciated being on the receiving end of it.

“Well there’s your cake, so you’d better enjoy it. It’s the last one you’re getting.”

GLaDOS jabbed her finger in the direction of the confection; a black forest cake with a single, currently unlit candle, sitting rather pristine amongst the disaster that was the rest of its surroundings. GLaDOS, of course, had no intention of letting Chell find out about the remains of the past dozen failed attempts that had been sent to their graves in the incinerator.

“Of course I wouldn’t recommend you enjoy it too much, polite society tends to frown on those who eat entire cakes by themselves-”

GLaDOS found herself cut off prematurely by the feeling of warm flesh against her artificially-crafted lips as Chell clumsily pressed her mouth into what could only generously be called a kiss.

Granted, GLaDOS didn’t actually need her mouth to talk, that much was mostly for appearances- because apparently Chell found it ‘creepy’ for GLaDOS to speak without moving her lips- but she kept quiet for the few seconds that the contact lasted before Chell pulled back, licking her lips and looking more insufferable than ever.

“...What was that? Did you even brush your teeth this morning? Just because I can’t personally taste anything doesn’t mean I don’t have standards, you know.”

GLaDOS crossed her arms over her chest, ignoring the slight whirring of her internal fans working just a little bit harder as she spoke. She would’ve liked to say that this was the first time Chell had done something like this, but the truth was far from that. The lunatic was so brain-damaged that apparently she had started to impose her misguided human habits onto other, non-human entities. GLaDOS only let her do it because…

‘You had a bit of frosting on your bottom lip, I thought I’d clean it off for you.’

...Because something; she couldn’t quite remember what that reason was.

“We both know that’s far from an effective method of cleaning things.”

Chell simply smiled at her.

‘Thanks for the cake.’

GLaDOS huffed, diverting her gaze from Chell’s ridiculous expression to focus on quite literally anything else in the room.

“...Enjoy the anniversary of your birth.”

#chelldos #portal #portal 2 #glados #chell #android glados #just a reminder to anyone who is unaware #I don't do commissions #do not try to pay me for fic

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ridiasfangirlings · 5 years

Note

Ridia, do u remember the Drabble I ask on twitter? The one with Mikorei play "gay chicken" for 14 years, and the adopted cat saru ?

Mikorei crack? Mikorei crack.

Totsuka-kun calls it 'gay chicken.'

Munakata has never heard of such a game, and indeed he isn't certain what a gay chicken has to do with the way he and Suoh remain constantly at odds. Being the student council president, it is simply Munakata's job to keep an eye on those wayward youth who require more guidance in life.

Suoh in particular has clearly from the start required more guidance than most. Munakata has caught him twice now smoking behind the school during lunch break in just this week, and it's only Wednesday. There was also the matter of sleeping during homeroom, getting into various fights with other delinquents and the issue of his hair color, which Munakata suspects is not quite as natural as Suoh wishes everyone to think it is.

It is for this reason, and this reason only, that their paths cross more often than not. Naturally if he had his way Munakata would see no reason to spend time with such an incorrigible person. Munakata has far better things to do than pin Suoh to a locker and lecture him on the proper way to wear a school uniform (it was Suoh's friend Totsuka Tatara who also described Munakata's actions as 'pinning him up against a locker.' For his part, Munakata was simply trying to make certain that his words were being properly heeded, and he's always thought it best to maintain close and consistent eye contact when trying to make one's point in a clear and concise manner).

Totsuka has been giggling about it for nearly two weeks for some reason. In fact, it occurs to Munakata that there has been some school gossip in general about his relationship with Suoh – why they need to 'get a room,' and what exactly they are supposed to do there, he's not entirely certain. Somehow Munakata suspects that everyone's gotten their 'relationship' – if that's even the best term for it, and he doesn't believe it is – entirely wrong.

“'Gay chicken,' Totsuka-kun?” Munakata attempts to slide the lunch tray under Suoh's arms, Suoh having rested his head on the cafeteria table in an apparent attempt to sleep through lunch, utterly ignoring the importance of proper nutrition and its relationship to school performance.

“It's a new game, Munakata-san!” Totsuka nods his head emphatically. On his opposite side Suoh's other friend Kusanagi Izumo groans and puts a hand to his head. Suoh doesn't even so much as grunt, and Munakata considers 'accidentally' hitting him in the head with the tray. “No one's sure who's winning yet, you or King.”

“I was unaware we were playing a game.” Suoh snores, and Munakata's elbow just somehow manages to find the back of his neck. Suoh doesn't even blink, much less wake up.

“That's the fun part.” Totsuka's eyes are shining and Kusanagi's very deliberately not looking at any of them. “You see, Munakata-san...” He leans over to whisper the rules in Munakata's ear.

“I see.” Munakata considers. He hadn't expected Suoh to play this kind of game, but then again Suoh's thought process is as always entirely opposite of what Munakata would assume any normal person's should be. That he's possibly being toyed with and hasn't noticed until now is perhaps a bit irritating, as Munakata has always been quite proud of his observation skills. That he might be losing is even more bothersome.

Not that Munakata would care about such things. Munakata has had his entire career path complete with schooling and eventual government position mapped out since he was five, and so far his plan has been proceeding just as he'd hoped. Something as trivial as this...'gay chicken,' being played by a layabout with no ambition at all like Suoh, that is not and has never been in his calculations.

Suoh snorts and Munakata looks down, just in time to meet his gaze. Despite having presumably slept through the entire conversation Suoh is smirking, and Munakata's eyes narrow in displeasure.

Munakata decides that he will not be losing to such a person, not even in the most trivial of ways, and that is the absolute and only reason that he grabs Suoh by the collar and hauls him up so that they are face to face before promptly and purposefully pinning him to the lunch table with a kiss.

Munakata is still unsure as to precisely what kind of game gay chicken is supposed to be, but either way he intends to be the winner.

–

“Suoh, please refrain from snoring during the movie.”

Mikoto looks at him sidelong, eyelids heavy over piercing eyes, not so much sitting in his seat as draping himself over it like some manner of large sleepy cat. Munakata suggested the movie, a fascinating true crime documentary that he's been wanting to see for weeks. Suoh agreed, presumably in order to keep from losing the game too badly.

(They have been playing gay chicken for three months. So far, they have been on five dates, three of which were initiated by Munakata. Mikoto has gained a brief lead by being the first to kiss with tongue. Munakata is determined to regain his advantage and assumed that making out in a movie theater would at least give him enough points to draw even, if Suoh could stay awake long enough for Munakata to initiate the kissing.)

“ 'S boring.” Mikoto yawns, head thrown back, hair tousled. One leg is propped up on the armrest between them, and Munakata irritably shoves it back down. Mikoto grins in response, that absolutely infuriating – (intoxicating) – grin of his, and Munakata is not amused.

“My apologies. Perhaps a children's movie would have been more to your taste.”

“Not my fault you suck at picking out dates, Munakata.” Mikoto reaches over and grabs a fistful of popcorn out of the bag propped on Munakata's lap, tossing it into his mouth. Bits of it stick to his hands and he wipes them on his pants, even though Munakata brought plenty of napkins for just this reason.

“I have not been impressed with your abilities in that department either, thus far. Please use a napkin like a civilized person.” Munakata holds one out and Mikoto very deliberately wipes a hand on his pants again, still smirking.

He is honestly the most irritating man Munakata has ever met. Munakata has no idea why anyone would willingly subject themselves to spending time with such an insufferable person – the wild red hair, the slow rumbling voice that drawls out nothing but nonsense, those golden eyes that look like they belong to some beast from the savannah. A person with no plans and no ambition, who had looked at Munakata's carefully laid future path and rolled his eyes, wondering why Munakata willingly chose to put himself in society's cage.

“Being this close to you absolutely disgusts me,” Munakata says, taking one of Mikoto's hands and very slowly putting his mouth around one of the fingers.

Within five minutes Suoh has his back against the flat of the chair with Munakata leaning over him and Munakata's certain they both hate it, breathing each other's air, and as soon as he stops kissing Mikoto's lips he intends to say as much.

–

Munakata is fully aware that Suoh is entirely unequipped to handle a proper wedding, which is why when the time comes he takes matters into his own hands.

Certainly he'd been surprised, when Suoh had decided to escalate things by proposing. Until that moment Munakata had assumed that his lead was secure, having initiated physical relations months ago. Surely there was no way Suoh could top that (well, topping had been another issue entirely, which Munakata had intended to thoroughly discuss if Suoh hadn't told him to shut up and take his clothes off). Suoh had responded by stopping by the small government office where Munakata was currently working as an intern and all but tossing a ring at him.

“Oya? Such an unexpected gift. I was unaware that you were fond of fine jewelry, Suoh.” Munakata had put the ring on his finger, admiring the perfect fit while Mikoto just shrugged.

“Figured a frilly guy like you would expect a fancy engagement ring.”

(Suoh works as a bouncer and Munakata doubts that it pays much, so he made certain later to thank Kusanagi Izumo for the ring.)

Proposal being now off the table, Munakata knows there is only one way to maintain his lead in gay chicken. He knows that Suoh will be working in Kusanagi's bar in the afternoon, so he makes certain to stop by and drop the paper off in Mikoto's hands.

“What's this?” Mikoto unrolled it, leaning against the bar and letting his cigarette get irresponsibly close to the paper in his other hand.

“A marriage certificate. Please be assured that I have made certain everything was executed according to law. If you would sign here please.”

There's a slightly bemused look on Mikoto's face as he grabs a pen from the bar counter and signs his name before handing the certificate back to Munakata. Munakata feels the pleasant flush of victory as he places the paper back inside his jacket pocket.

“Very good. I will see you back tonight at our apartment for the wedding night.”

“Oi. Munakata.” Munakata stops at the sound of Suoh's voice and turns. Suoh has one hand resting on his chin, leg propped on a chair, a puff of cigarette smoke billowing in the air as he gives that smile Munakata has become all too accustomed to (the one that perhaps, if Munakata were in the business of giving up points, would make a pleasant twinge run down his spine).

“Yes, Suoh?”

“Hope you planned a good honeymoon.”

Munakata returns the smile with his own triumphant smirk. Naturally he already has the plane tickets ordered.

They've adopted a cat.

Munakata picked it up from some foster for troubled pets or something like that. Its name is Saruhiko and Mikoto's pretty sure the damn thing hates his guts. The stupid thing hisses whenever Mikoto walks by and it's already turned two of his pillowcases into fancy ribbons and stuffing. It spends half its time clawing up the sofa and the rest of the time outside baiting the neighbor's chihuahua

“Suoh. It is your turn to feed the cat.”

“Eh?” Mikoto opens his eyes and sees Munakata there staring down at him, standing beside the couch. There's already grooves in the cushions from how often Mikoto's slept there. It was his decision to buy it, since Munakata insisted on picking out the wallpaper and the flooring and every other bit of the apartment.

“I have fed Saruhiko already today, and I have work to finish. If you could feed our cat, please.”

Our. Mikoto snorts, not even bothering to get up.

“It's your stupid cat.”

“Our cat, Suoh.” Munakata leans down to pet the cat and Mikoto swears the little demon takes a swipe at him, which Munakata easily manages to avoid. “He is hungry. If you could feed him.”

Mikoto huffs but sits up, rubbing the back of his head as he swings his feet over onto the floor. Saruhiko promptly claws his ankles and Mikoto leans down to pick it up by the scruff of the neck.

“Adult cats are not meant to be carried that way.” Munakata's tone is filled with light admonishment and Mikoto sighs, putting the cat back on the floor. Saruhiko promptly hides under the couch, blue eyes glaring balefully out at him. “Remember to heat the food up before you give it to him. And do not use the old bag, he does not eat anything older than four days.”

Damn picky cat. Mikoto stretches, heading towards the kitchen.

“Suoh.” He glances back and Munakata smiles triumphantly, the ring on his finger reflecting gold off the rims of his glasses. “I believe I am winning.”

“...Right.” Mikoto disappears into the kitchen, looking for the cat food. He doesn't intend to let Munakata win forever, of course. The bastard's insufferable enough as it is.

Eventually Mikoto will probably tell him, that he stopped playing gay chicken years ago.

Eventually.

#Mikorei #Talking K #k project #fic #yeah I couldn't resist #I finally write Mikorei and it's nothing but crack #these idiots really

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turtle-steverogers · 5 years

Text

Whatever it Takes

hey guys so i’ve been in a wiggy place lately, which means my brain is doing some wiggy things and i keep starting fics and not finishing cuz i guess i’m just waiting for something that clicks, ya know?

anyway bear with me, here’s something else! but it feels like it’s clicking more than other things recently so we’ll see lolololol

(plus its a really fun concept)

relationship: sprace

warnings: mentions of death, but no one, like, is dead...

editing: no

word count: 2853

Chap 1

Spot awoke with an overcompensating gasp, eyes flying open as the world came crashing back. He remained still, slowly taking note of his current condition. His right cheek was pressed to the ground, the musty smell of the wet, grimy dirt suffocating him. His head hurt dully, but not nearly enough to concern him to any alarming extent. Just a simple, tension headache- probably from staying face down for so long.

He was shivering, belatedly realizing how stiff his limbs were. They were splayed at awkward angles, twisting in ways that couldn’t be healthy. He could hear the sound of rushing water, creating a cacophony of white noise around him. He blinked, trying to clear the haze from his vision. Slowly, he pushed himself into a sitting position, wincing when his joint cracked painfully. He rolled his neck a few times, groaning as his body gradually loosened.

Stretching his arms above him, he looked around, trying to make sense of his surroundings. He was in what appeared to be a park. Stretches of trimmed green grass surrounded him, encompassed only by small clusters of hedges and mini trees. To his left, a wide river flowed magnificently. Manhattan stood proudly on the other side of the river and Spot started, turning around hastily to see the Brooklyn Bridge standing hauntingly behind him.

When the hell did he get to Brooklyn? Where the hell was he? What happened?

He wracked his memory, trying to recall any details that would clue him in to his current situation, but nothing jumped out. All he could remember was excruciating pain giving way to loud voices, insufferable heat, numbing cold, then silence. And darkness. So much darkness.

He shuddered, unsure of what exactly had put him off. Though given the little he could remember, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know.

He looked down at himself, frowning at his outfit. He was wearing a pair of simple, straight legged, grey sweatpants and no shoes. A loose fitting black shirt hung limply on his frame. Suddenly, fleeting images of something white hot being pressed to his chest flew through his mind and he gasped, lifting his shirt hastily. He wasn’t sure what exactly he was looking for- a scar perhaps- but his torso was completely unscathed. In fact, as he assessed himself mentally, nothing seemed out of the ordinary externally.

He pat his pockets, looking for a phone, maybe. Anything really that could assist him in gathering his bearings. But all he found was a coin. He squinted at it, running his fingers over the cool copper. It didn’t look like currency. Rather, it looked like an emblem of some sort. There was a slew of indiscernible etchings on either side and as he turned it over in his hands, he noticed that it was significantly thicker than any coin he’d ever seen before. It was more of a medallion than anything.

He took a breath, steeling himself as he stood up. His legs shook violently and he pitched to the side, stumbling for a moment before finding his footing. He walked on wobbly legs towards the street, wondering distantly what time it was. The sun was fairly high in the sky, casting a warm glow throughout Brooklyn. Not many people were at the park, but as he neared the main road, he could make out voices chattering mildly to one another. The air was cool, but fair, raising another question about what time of year it was. Spring? Early Summer? Somewhere around there.

He paused, swallowing around a dry throat as he stepped onto the sidewalk, looking out towards the shops that lined the street across from him. People crowded outside coffee shops, dining pleasantly in the outdoor seating.

Must be breakfast time, Spot thought to himself, biting his lip as hunger rumbled through his stomach. If only he had some actual money.

“Are you alright, sir?”

Spot startled, breathing in sharply as he looked to the side. A short, young woman stood beside him, gentle concern written on her face. She had a kind demeanor radiating off of her, putting Spot at ease.

“You don’t look so good,” She said delicately, “Is there anyone I can call for you? A cab?”

Spot blinked, shifting his jaw as he tried to decide where to go from the confusing shitshow he was already in. He wanted to go...home. Wherever that meant. He had an address in mind, but he wasn’t entirely sure where it lead to. It just felt right.

“Uh,” his voice was hoarse, cracking from lack of use. He cleared his throat, intending to ask for directions, but instead blurting, “What’s the date?”

The woman’s eyes flicked imperceptibly and she cocked her head, “It’s June 4.”

Spot nodded slowly, “And the year?”

The woman pursed her lips, “2019,” she said skeptically.

Spot felt the air leave his lungs. 2019!? The last New Years he remembered celebrating was 2015. What the fuck was going on?

He quickly masked his internal dilemma, opting instead to finally figure out where the hell he was going and how the hell he was going to get there.

He flicked a finger under his nose, clearing his throat again, “Yeah, uh, where is...uh….1365 Saint Nicholas Avenue?”

The woman hummed, pulling out her phone hastily and putting the address into Google Maps, “Uh, looks like that’s over in Washington Heights. Bit of a ways, do you want me to get you that cab?”

“Yeah, please,” Spot said distractedly, much too preoccupied with whatever could be waiting for him in Washington Heights to show the gratitude he felt. Why would he feel inclined to go there? His home was in Brooklyn, wasn’t it?

“Alright, gimme a sec,” The woman paced away from Spot a few steps, waiting at the edge of the sidewalk for a few minutes before flagging down a taxi. She leaned through the window, conversing with the taxi driver for a few minutes before pulling a credit card from her purse and swiftly swiping it across the E-payer.

“Alright,” She said, waving Spot over, “He knows where you’re headed and you’re all paid for.”

“Whoa, you didn’t have to pay-”

“It’s fine, honestly,” The woman assured him, “You looked like you could use a little more than just a helping hand.”

“Thank you so much,” Spot said, still feeling dazed and confused.

The woman gave him a reassuring smile, waving lightly as Spot climbed into the cab. He waved back, barely remembering to buckle himself as they sped away from the curb. Spot sat back in his seat leaning his head against the cool glass of the window as they traveled through the city. The sun seemed to rise higher as they went, warming the inside of the car to a comfortable temperature. Spot felt his eyes drooping closed and he allowed himself to slip into a uneasy doze.

“We’re here,” The cab driver grunted some time later, pulling Spot from his sleep.

Spot opened his eyes reluctantly, scrubbing a hand down his face and grimacing when it came away dirty. Apparently he was still grungy from whatever stint he’d had near the East River.

“Uh, thanks,” Spot grumbled, climbing unceremoniously from the car and peering up at the apartment complex in front of him.

A strange sense of familiarity washed over him and he felt an inadvertent lump rise in his throat. He hadn’t felt safety like this in ages. Pure will drove his legs to take him inside and he only just remembered to ask what floor the address what on.

A short elevator ride later, he was walking on shaky legs down a narrow hallway on the fourth floor, his heart in his throat. He arrived at the apartment, nostalgia gripping him like a vice as he stared at the heavy, wooden door. The door wasn’t at all different from the other doors in the hall, but something about it seemed routine- as if he’d knocked on this door thousands of times before. Perhaps once, he owned a key to this door. Walked over its threshold day after greeting...greeting someone. Someone was waiting for him on the other side of that door. Someone had been waiting for him on the other side of that door.

He lifted his fist and rapped his knuckles against the dark wood, waiting with baited breath as a voice sounded from the other side.

“Just a sec!”

Spot gasped, heart clenching. He’d heard that voice before. It was part of him. That voice had bombarded his life, its jarring loudness charming him in a way he couldn’t explain. He’d missed that voice.

Less than a minute later, the door opened and on the other side stood a man. He was taller than Spot by a good amount, with a mop of blonde curly hair mussed carelessly on his head. His bright blue eyes were accentuated by dark circles and he was dressed in a pair of old jeans and a ratty sweatshirt. He looked unkempt, but it was evident that he’d seen worse times. The longer Spot stared at him, not wavering under the awed stare that watched him back, the more he longed to reach out and touch him. God had he missed that face.

The guy let out a shaky breath, mouth hanging slightly agape as he looked Spot up and down. His eyes were shadowed by something, shock outweighing any other emotion.

Something seemed to build in the guy and he let out a little whimper, fingers fiddling with the hem of his shirt- something Spot knew he did when he was overwhelmed or anxious.

“Sean,” He breathed, utter disbelief dripping in his words.

Spot smiled a little, overwhelmed energy building in him as well, “Hi, Racer.”

Race huffed out what could have been a laugh, though his face remained stunned, “You- I- how?”

Spot shook his head, running a hand through his dirty hair, “I don’t know.”

“No, like...I- you,” Race sucked in a breath, glimmering eyes searching Spot. He hadn’t moved from his place in the doorway, stance pensive- as if he were afraid that he was being tricked, “you’re dead, Spot. You died three years ago, I saw-” He cut himself off, choking a little as he lifted a trembling hand to his mouth, trying in vain, not to breakdown, “How?” He repeated.

Spot took a small step back, wavering a little where he stood as Race’s words sunk in, “What?”

Race cocked his head, “What’s what?”

“I...I what?”

“You...died,” Race said again, softening slightly, “Do you not remember?”

The world seemed to rush away from Spot and suddenly, he wasn’t sure if he could hold himself up.

“No,” He said, his own words sounding miles away, “I don’t remember...anything really.”

“Jesus,” Race sighed, finally removing his hand from the doorknob and reaching out towards Spot.

Spot closed his eyes as Race’s palm found his cheek, relishing in the feeling of human contact. Kind human contact. He reached up his own hand, placing it over Race’s and squeezing it. He felt his own tears well up in his eyes and he moved Race’s knuckles to his lips, kissing them fiercely. Then, he was being pulled into a hug. Warmth and intimacy enveloped him as he melted into the embrace, taking hold of the back of Race’s shirt in tight fists.

“I thought,” Race forced through clenched teeth, “I thought I was never gonna see you again.”

Spot burrowed his nose in the crook of Race’s neck, drinking in his presence, “I’m so lost, Race,” He admitted, pulling back, “I have no idea what’s going on and I don’t know why I can remember you and where you fucking live, but not what the hell happened to me and-” he dropped his head against Race’s chest, “I’m fucking scared.”

Race gently coaxed his head up. They studied each other for a moment, both at a loss of what to say. How do you handle seeing your lover after fuck knows how long? Especially when you apparently died.

Race opened and closed his mouth a few times, then he reached down and carefully took both of Spot’s hands, “Let’s go inside.”

“Yeah,” Spot agreed, relieved that they weren’t attempting to piece through the daunting puzzle right away.

Race took a measured breath, keeping one of his hands intertwined with Spot’s as he lead him into the apartment. Spot couldn’t remember much of what it looked like last time he was there, but it seemed to be dimmer now- more sullen. The living room was strewn with various sheets of paper. Some were crumpled, some were in perfect shape, but none of them looked organize. Spot could see Race’s messy scrawl on each sheet, noting how the font on some of them looked larger and angrier than others. The carpet beneath them had a few questionable looking stains on them, the scariest being the small, rust red one near the couch. The others simply looked like old beer stains, which wasn’t much more comforting.

From what Spot could see, the rest of the apartment didn’t look much happier. All of it seemed dim. Places where Spot was sure pictures had once been mounted were bare, showcasing instead the dilapidated wallpaper and rotting wood. It didn’t seem to be a pleasant environment to live in.

“Oof, sorry ‘bout all this,” Race said, hurriedly picking up an armful of paper from the couch and dropping it bluntly on the floor.

Spot carefully avoided stepping on any of the papers as he made his way to the couch, sinking into the cushions, “What is all this anyway?” He asked, gesturing to the mess that surrounded them.

Race flushed, eyes casting downwards as he sat next to Spot, “Oh, uh, after you, like, died...I kinda didn’t handle things too well,” Spot’s brain immediately flashed to the alcohol stains that painted the carpet, “so after a few months of...that, Jack forced me to wade through my shit a different way. So, I, uh, I started writing.” He finished sheepishly, still avoiding Spot’s gaze.

Spot looked down at the mound of papers next to him, curiosity driving him to reach out towards one.

“No!” Race’s voice froze Spot in his actions, “Uh, I kinda don’t let anyone read them. They’re kinda...well, I just don’t like people reading them.”

Spot nodded slowly, receiving the signal to change the subject, “Jack, huh? How is he? How is everyone? Just how much did I fucking miss?”

Race chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, “So much, but uh, everyone’s...fine. No one’s great per say. Haven’t really been since...yeah, but we’ve all managed. Some better than others…”

They were quiet for a moment, both lost in separate memories. Spot couldn’t recall much of his friends, but it was all slowly ebbing its way back into his mind. It was as if Race’s apartment were a catalyst to all the experiences he’d lost when he’d allegedly passed away.

“So…” Spot started weakly, fearing what his question might bring, but the thirst for any kind of answers outweighed his uncertainty, “I died?”

Race nodded solemnly and Spot plowed on, “How?”

Race squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, pressing the heels of his palms to his forehead, “Fifteen gunshots to the chest. Right through your heart. That’s what the autopsy determined anyway.”

“I was...shot? Multiple times?” Spot asked, dumbfounded, “Are you sure?”

“I mean, no,” Race said, leaning back against the arm of the couch, “It’s not like I saw it happen, but I did see your body at the morgue and there was a gaping fucking hole in your chest, so…” he trailed off for a moment, frustrated energy emanating off of him, “I don’t fucking get it!” He burst out suddenly, “You were dead! I watched them bury you!”

Spot stared dazedly at his hands, “I don’t get it either, because,” he worried his lip between his teeth, lifting his shirt to reveal his chest, “There’s no gunshot wound, not even any evidence that there ever was one.”

Race’s eyes widened and leaned forwards, ghosting his fingers over Spot’s left pec, right above his heart.

“That’s impossible,” Race murmured, “You were shot clean through.”

Spot hunched away from him, allowing his shirt to drop back down, “Yeah, well, apparently I wasn’t.”

Race dropped his head into his hands, “None of this makes sense.”

Spot idly picked at the dried dirt on his cheek, at a loss for words, “No, it doesn’t,” He said after a pregnant pause.

Race looked at him again, the previous grievance giving way to adoration, “It’s really fucking good to have you back,” he shifted so that he was leaning into Spot’s side.

Spot ran a hand through Race’s curls, working his fingers through the tangles and knots. How hard had Race taken his death? If this was still him after three years, how bad had he been in the beginning?

Spot dropped a kiss onto the top of his head, “It’s really fucking good to be back.”

hi yah so i popped this on ao3 the other night so chap 2 is almost done but yah dont yell at me

also fun fact remember the scary teaser i posted earlier? thats from chap 2 so yeehaw brothers

thanks for reading, chiefs

hmu to be added to my tag

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#newsies #newsies fic #spot conlon #racetrack higgins #sprace #oof #dont clown me please ik #ik ik

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