#like not only on here but some coworkers and i literally had monday morning conversations based on the latest episode of succession

[shinbyeol]

in true me fashion, i had too much going on to make it to opening but ‘sup party animals, it’s ya girl moon! ( s / h, 21+ )!! i’m here to bring y’all shin byeol, a lost bean who’s just trying to make it through without throwing up on this roller coaster called life 🤮 she’s generally very nice but y’know, fuckery in life shapes you as a person so she’s a bit jaded but like, who isn’t!! catch her on a monday morning and she’ll probably murder you but run into her as she pollutes the world with her Nth cigarette of the night and she’s more mellow 🥰 now to get the show on the road, drumroll pls for shenanigans under the cut........

shin byeol, 24, seoul resident but recently moved into maehwa (think....a month ish????) and just isa-ri in general

now you may be wondering why she’s there 🥴 same here buddy

tl;dr is that she used to be an idol trainee, jumped around many companies since she was 15 and was on a promising road to debut at her last company but she fucked around (literally) (i’m jk about that last part) and screwed up her achilles tendon

she got surgery and all should have been well but i mean, she injured herself when she was 20 and by the time she recovered 90% she was no longer at a good enough age to debut according to the company :////

ended up going to school instead and graduated from ehwa with a degree in communications and media studies (don’t ask me what this means)

should have been happy and moving on with her life but she still had a lot of trainee contacts or people who had already debuted in her circle which only seemed to cause her pain and made her feel like she failed at life 

heard about this quaint little countryside with a spacious sharehouse with cheap rent so she said fuck it, imma pack my shit up and go

didn’t really think this plan out, if you ask me, but she’s just vibing and trying to figure out what’s next

catch her making your coffee (possibly incorrectly but give her a break, it’s her second week 🙄) at dalkom café or if you happen to be wandering the premises, it’s likely she’ll be around with a camera in hand too 

personality-wise, she’s very straightforward and won’t do any of that sugar-coating business, it’s no nonsense with her and she’ll expect the same. snarky when she needs to be, bitchy because she can be, but if you have her on your side, she’s there for life 

currently occupying room 029, come bother her 😌

idk what else to put, it’s been a long day i’m 😴

plot ideas maybe????

you’re either on her floor, or above/below her and since you like sleeping with your window open, her disgusting cigarette smoke blows into your room and you’ve had enough

she’s out taking pictures and you happen to get in her frame - you want the photo, she’s not willing 🤕

someone from seoul that knew her back in her prime trainee days before she dropped off the face of the planet but o??? look who’s also here?????

her instagram is really just her life’s diary but somehow that intrigued you and suddenly you start seeing that she’s posting snapshots of very familiar areas.....wait, you’re both in isa-ri???

she’s allergic to pets (rip) and it’s her mission to find who in the sharehouse is out to get her by letting their pet roam free

gimme somebody she can have dumb 3am conversations with, like do aliens exist or why does elon musk want his child to be bullied in school

insert something about a relationship plot here blah blah blah we all know how this goes, but she isn’t in it for anything serious (or is she?????)

pls someone give her a coworker at the café 😭 #teamcantdoshit or #teamlifeoftheparty

she doesn’t have a car but some nice townspeople decided to lend her one for an adventure so now she’s strapping you in for a lil joy ride that has no real destination but that’s the point!!

ok idk man i’m supposed to be awake in 4 hours as i write this more like i slept for 3, so who knows what kind of garbage the above really is 😳 hmu either in the ims (pls pls don’t make this our main form of communication i beg you) for my discord or just drop a ❤️ and i’ll come to you so we can plot and get this party started 🤪

[softspideys]

The Perfect Date

summary: tom makes it his mission to take you on the perfect first date. the only problem is, you have no idea. 

warnings: none

word count: 3.6k

pairings: tom holland x reader

a/n: this was supposed to be a valentine’s day fic but then I forgot about it. oops. plz enjoy anyway

Tom had just started the last lap of Wario’s Gold Mine when he heard Zendaya ask, “Got any plans for Valentine’s Day?”

He tried not to pay attention to your answer, focusing on keeping his lead, but he couldn’t help it. His eyes flickered over to where you were sitting at the kitchen table, absently circling your finger around the rim of your wine glass.

You straightened up at her question, scoffing. “Are you kidding? When’s the last time you saw me date anybody, Z?”

“Hey,” she said, pointing at you accusingly. “Don’t even start with me. I set you up with people all the time, it’s not my fault you’re so picky.”

“It’s called having standards,” you fired back. “Sorry I’m not interested in pretentious jerks who insist on mansplaining Tarantino films to me over their venti-soy-no-foam latte with a triple shot of espresso.”

Zendaya cackled, and though he couldn’t see your face, Tom could tell you were smiling too; your words had no real bite to them.

“Seriously though,” you continued with a sigh. “I think I might just give up dating for a while. Lately it feels like my only options are either crappy blind dates or going through a sleazy hookup app for some mediocre sex. I can’t remember the last time I got properly asked out and went on, like, a nice date.”

As soon as you said that, the gears started turning in Tom’s head. And then he got an idea so good he almost forgot about the race entirely, until Harrison hit him with a red shell and passed him, sailing over the finish line in first place.

“Yes!” Harrison cheered, causing you and Zendaya to look over, startled. “Finally, I won!”

“Wow,” Zendaya said, amused. “I think that’s the first time you’ve ever lost in Mario Kart, Holland.”

“Yeah, what’s gotten into you?” you asked teasingly as Harrison got up and did a victory dance.

Tom normally hated losing, but he was too preoccupied at the moment to care. “Nothing,” he said quickly. “Just . . . a little rusty, I guess.”

You raised your eyebrows, but then Zendaya challenged Harrison to a rematch, and the two of them immediately started a new grand prix while you called dibs on the winner. With the distraction in place, Tom had plenty of time to come up with a plan.

The four of you had been friends for years, but he’d always harbored something of a crush on you. He’d never tried to push the boundaries or pursue you because he liked your relationship as it was already, and didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. But this would be different. This was harmless. He was simply going to show you how you deserved to be treated, give you a good date to remember among the bad ones.

Nothing else. Right?

* * *

You eyed the huge bouquet of roses your coworker had on her desk and tried not to feel too envious. She’d made a big show of bringing them in this morning and inviting everyone who walked by to smell them, going on and on about how her girlfriend had surprised her for Valentine’s Day yesterday.

So what, you thought to yourself. I can get myself flowers whenever I want; I don’t need a holiday to have an excuse to do it. It really didn’t make you feel better though.

“Hey,” a familiar voice said, making you jump a mile. You looked up. Tom was peering over the wall of your cubicle, which was . . . unexpected. He hardly ever visited you at work.

“Oh, hi,” you said. “I didn’t even see you come in.”

“Yeah, you were totally zoned out,” Tom said. “Good thing I brought caffeine.” He placed a to-go cup from your favorite coffee shop on your desk. You saw the order written on the side; he’d gotten it exactly right.

“Wow,” you said, surprised but grateful. “Thanks.” You’d already had coffee this morning, but clearly it was shaping up to be a two-cup type of day. You took a careful sip and felt better already.

“No problem.” Tom followed your line of vision to your coworker’s desk. “Pretty flowers.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, a little quietly. You cleared your throat. “So, what’s up? Did we have plans today or something?”

“Oh, no,” he said, shifting from foot to foot, “but that’s actually kind of what I wanted to talk to you about.” He seemed nervous, which in turn made you nervous.

“Okay,” you said, giving him your full attention.  

“So . . . are you doing anything this Friday night?”

It was only Monday. You thought for a second before shaking your head. “I don’t think so.”

“Would you like to have dinner? With me?”

You furrowed your eyebrows. That was it? “Oh. Sure.”

You could’ve sworn you saw his eyes widen the slightest bit. “Really? I mean, great. Cool.” He scratched his nose. “So, Friday at six o’clock, then? I’ll text you the name of the place?”

“Sounds good,” you said. He seemed excited, though you couldn’t figure out why. You got dinner with him, Harrison, and Zendaya at least once a week.

“Alrighty,” Tom said, swinging his arms a little and nodding. “Well, I’ll let you get back to work. See you Friday.”

“See you,” you said. Did he really come all the way to your office to ask you this in person instead of just texting you like he normally would? Maybe he’d been nearby or something. You watched him leave, mostly confused but also kind of endeared.

“Was that your boyfriend?” your coworker asked, subtly adjusting her flowers again.

You quickly shook your head, turning back to your computer and taking another sip of your coffee. “Oh, no. Just a friend.”

As Tom left your office, he allowed himself to do a small fist-pump. Getting you to agree was the hardest part. Now came the slightly-easier-but-still-hard part: making sure he gave you the best first date ever.

* * *

Something strange was going on with Tom. You first realized it when you brought up the dinner on Friday to Zendaya and she had no clue what you were talking about.

“Tom didn’t invite you?”

“Nope.” She popped the “p.”

“Huh.” You chewed your lip. “That’s . . . weird. Maybe he figured I’d just tell you about it. And I guess you don’t really need an invitation anyway . . . do you think he invited Harrison?”

“I don’t know.” You were on the phone, so you couldn’t see Zendaya’s face, but it kind of sounded like she was trying not to laugh. “Maybe he wants it to be just the two of you.”

“Maybe.” It was rare, but it wasn’t like you never spent time with just Tom or Harrison.  You couldn’t remember the last time you had dinner with either of them one-on-one, though. This seemed . . . different. “But I’m sure he won’t mind if you guys show up,” you said with a shrug.

Now Zendaya did laugh. “No, no, it’s fine,” she said. “I think I’m supposed to babysit my niece and nephew anyway. You guys have fun.”

Then there was Tom himself. You hadn’t seen him in person since Monday, but he’d been texting you random questions all week:

Do you prefer a casual or an elegant ambiance?

How many candles on a table is too many? Or do you think overhead lamps are better?

Oyster bars . . . yes/no?

You answered all of them with increasing bemusement, but any time you asked why he would mysteriously change the subject. You couldn’t help but feel like there was something you were missing here.

Finally, he sent you the name of the restaurant on Friday morning: Soul & Persona.

You’d never heard of it, so you decided to look it up. One glance at their website told you this place wasn’t like the casual restaurant-and-bars you and your friends usually frequented. This was fancy. Clicking over to the menu, you inhaled sharply at the prices written next to the items. Luckily, today was payday.

You arrived at the restaurant shortly before six. Another person was already standing outside, and as you got closer you realized it was Tom. Two things about that were already weird: one, he was normally notoriously late to everything; and two, he was holding a bouquet of roses in one hand that were so big they nearly obstructed his face.

He didn’t notice you approaching, busy frowning at something on his phone. “Hey,” you said at last, making him jump.  

“Oh! Hey!” He cleared his throat, shoving his phone in his pocket. “I mean—good evening.” He did a strange little bow before thrusting the flowers at you. “These are for you.”

“Wow,” you said, taking them carefully. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. You look really nice.”

You were glad you researched the restaurant in advance, because the jeans and t-shirt combo you’d originally planned on wearing would definitely not have been appropriate here.

“So do you,” you said. He did: he was wearing slacks and a nice dress shirt under a jacket, his hair neatly combed.

“Thanks. Should we go in?” he asked. You nodded, and he hurried to open the door, ushering you inside. It was crowded, which made you a little worried. How long would the wait time be?

But Tom went right up to the hostess stand. “Hi,” he said, “we have a reservation for two at six; the name is Tom?”

She looked at her book and nodded. “You can follow me right this way.” She led you to a quiet corner of the restaurant and seated you at a table by the window. “Enjoy your meal.”

“Here,” Tom said, pulling your chair out before you could sit down. Again, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

“This place is crazy nice,” you said, looking around as the hostess placed a wine list on the table.

“Yeah,” Tom agreed, a little distractedly. “Um. So. Do you prefer to work in a team or alone?”

You blinked. “What? Where’d that come from?”

He shrugged, fidgeting with his collar like he was nervous. “I—I dunno. Just making conversation.”

“Oo-kay,” you said with a laugh. “Well, I haven’t seen you since you blessed my office with your presence on Monday. How was your week? Didn’t you have to give a presentation yesterday?”

“Yes, and one of the board members literally fell asleep during it,” Tom said, wrinkling his nose.

He seemed to loosen up after that, and the conversation flowed naturally from then on as you talked about your plans for the weekend, your friends, your families, and any other random thoughts that occurred to you.

For dinner you tried a pasta dish while Tom got steak, and you each had the soup of the day for an appetizer. Your knowledge of wine was limited to whatever was cheapest when you went to the liquor store, but Tom had apparently become an expert overnight: he asked the waiter all kinds of questions about their reds vs. their whites before finally ordering a bottle for the two of you to share.

All in all, it was an enjoyable dinner. You always had fun with Tom, of course, but you rarely got to spend time with just him. And though you normally stayed away from expensive places like this one, you had to admit the food was delicious and the ambiance made you feel very sophisticated.

“Can I get either of you some coffee or dessert?” the waiter asked as he cleared your plates. You’d never been one to say no to that, but Tom jumped in before you could open your mouth.

“No thank you,” he said quickly. “Just the check please.” Then he looked at you. “I thought maybe we could walk to that bookstore you like? The one with the bakery in it? We could—we could get dessert there and browse.”

“Oh,” you said, surprised. “Yeah, that sounds great.”

“Cool.” He sounded relieved.

The waiter brought out the bill and Tom grabbed it as soon as he set it on the table. “What are you doing?” you protested. There was normally an agreement among your friends that everyone paid for their own meals when you went out to dinner.

“I’m paying,” he insisted, waving you off as you fruitlessly tried to put your own debit card down.

“At least let me Venmo you for my half.”

“Nope.”

“Tom!”

“Seriously, it’s fine.” He wouldn’t even let you see how much the meal cost.  

You could tell he wasn’t going to budge for whatever reason, so you had no choice but to relent. “If you’re sure,” you said, watching him smugly sign the receipt. You made sure to grab your flowers before you got up and followed him out of the restaurant.

The bookstore you liked was a few blocks away, but you didn’t mind the walk. The air was warm but balmy, refreshing on your face. “That was amazing,” Tom said.

“It was,” you agreed. “I’m convinced they put actual crack in that pasta sauce. It was otherworldly.”

He laughed before he asked, a little hesitantly, “So are you . . . having a nice time?”

You looked over at him questioningly. “Of course I am. But I always have a nice time with you.”

“Good,” he said quietly, nodding. “Good.”

“Are you?”

“Yes,” Tom said immediately. “I just wanted to make sure. So, what are some of your pet peeves?”

“What is it with you and these questions?” Thankfully, you arrived at the bookstore and were spared from answering.

One of your favorite things about hanging out with Tom was that you didn’t necessarily need to be attached at the hip or in constant conversation in order to have fun. As soon as you entered he made a beeline for the True Crime section while you went to look at the new releases.

It was nice to just browse on your own for a while, and you ended up buying a book you’d been wanting to read ever since it came out. Tom was still perusing the shelves after you checked out, so you sneakily went up to the bakery counter and bought some dessert.

He found you sitting at a table in the cafe, reading your new book. “What’s this?” He gestured to the two pieces of cake and cups of decaf coffee on the table in front of you. “You should’ve let me pay!”

You’d been anticipating this, so you merely rolled your eyes. “Cry about it. You paid for dinner; it was the least I could do.”

“That’s not how this works,” Tom objected, but he reluctantly sat down and pulled his cake towards him anyway. The two of you discussed your books while you ate, and you tried not to act like you were eyeing his slice the entire time.

He noticed, of course. “You wanna try?”

You nodded sheepishly. You expected him to push the plate towards you, but instead he scooped a piece up onto his fork and held it out. “Here.” A little surprised, you opened your mouth and allowed him to feed it to you. For some reason it felt oddly intimate.

He was watching you expectantly as you chewed. “Good?”

“Yeah,” you managed to say, swallowing. “Really good.”

It was getting late and the store was closing soon, so you left after finishing your coffees. Usually this was when you’d call it a night and go home, but this time you felt no strong desire to. So when Tom started walking along the river instead of heading back towards the restaurant, you didn’t mind at all, falling into step beside him.

The night sky was clear, giving you a breathtaking view of dozens of stars. Hardly anyone else was around, and the river below was quiet and calm. It was like you were suspended in time. You couldn’t remember ever feeling so peaceful.

Tom’s hand bumped yours as you walked. You didn’t think anything of it at first, but then it happened again, and this time he laced his fingers through yours.

For some reason that was what made everything suddenly fall into place, for you to finally put two and two together and realize what was going on.

Oh my God.

“Tom,” you said hesitantly, shattering the comfortable silence between you.

“Yeah?”

“Is this . . . a date?”

He stopped walking, forcing you to do the same. Under the soft glow of the streetlights you could see he was staring at you. “Wait,” he said slowly. “This whole time . . . you didn’t know?”

Now that he’d basically just confirmed it, everything started to make sense: coming all the way to your office just to ask you to dinner, bringing you coffee, making reservations at a fancy restaurant, paying for the meal—

You were on a date and you hadn’t even realized.

“Oh, God,” was all you could say. You almost wanted to laugh, though nothing about this was even remotely funny. It was like you’d been hit over the head with a brick.

How could you not have known? It should’ve been obvious when he paid for the meal; no, when you realized you’d be eating at such a fancy place; no, when he showed up randomly on Monday, brought you coffee, and fucking asked you to dinner.

You both seemed to realize at the same time that you were still holding hands, and he quickly dropped it and stepped back. For the first time since you’d met, the air between the two of you was awkward. “I—I’m so sorry. I thought you knew.”

“I should’ve known,” you said, shaking your head. “I’m so stupid, I just didn’t think—” You didn’t finish your sentence. You honestly couldn’t figure out why you didn’t realize it sooner.

Because he’s your friend, a voice in the back of your head reminded you. He’s your friend and he’s never expressed any interest in you before, not like this.

That was true. You’d always thought Tom was handsome, and maybe early on in your friendship you’d fantasized about him once or twice. But he always treated you normally, never outwardly showing any sign of wanting more.  

“You’re not stupid,” he said immediately. “I should’ve made it more clear.”

“I’m just confused, I guess,” you said carefully. “I mean . . . why now? And why . . . me?”

He exhaled. “I overheard you the other day when you and Z were talking, and you were saying something like . . . you hadn’t been properly asked out and taken on a nice date in a while. So I guess I just wanted to do that for you. Make you happy.”

Your brain felt like it was short-circuiting. You didn’t know what to say to that, but he seemed to take your silence as a cue to keep going.

“That’s why I came to your office, to ask you in person instead of doing it over text or whatever. And I saw you looking at those flowers your coworker had, so I bought you some. And I picked this restaurant because it was nice but also because it was near the bookstore. And I memorized some first-date questions in case our conversation got boring, but I think that probably wasn’t necessary.” He sucked in a deep breath. “And now that I’m saying all of this I realize how weird it sounds. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

“Oh,” you said dumbly. His previous words were still echoing in your head. I guess I just wanted to do that for you. Make you happy.

He’d taken the time to think about all the things you liked and used that knowledge to plan the Perfect Date. You couldn’t remember the last time anyone had done something so kind, so thoughtful, so . . . romantic. Did this mean what you thought it meant?

Of course, the only way you were able to translate all of this was with, “Wow.”

But then he added, “And—and I didn’t do all of this because I thought it would lead to a second date or anything like that. I only—”

“Wait,” you interrupted, your stomach plummeting. This conversation was giving you whiplash. “So you . . . don’t like me?”

“Huh?”

“You did all of this . . . just because? You don’t actually want to go on a date with me?” Now you were more confused than ever, and a little hurt beneath that.

Tom’s eyes widened. “No! Well yes, but . . . no. Wait.” He took a deep breath. Now or never, right? “I do like you, but this was separate from all that. I only meant that I wasn’t expecting anything from this. I just wanted you to have a good time.”

You nodded slowly, exhaling. “Okay. So . . . what if I told you that I did have a good time, that I like you too, and I want go out with you again?”

Tom blinked at you owlishly for a second before his face split into a huge grin, one you were sure your own was mirroring. “Then . . . I’d say . . . same. To all of it.”

“Good,” you said, stepping closer. “In fact, I think this has almost been the perfect first date.”

He paused. “Wait, almost? What would make it perfect?” He furrowed his eyebrows, looking a little panicked. You laughed, reaching up and cupping his jaw.

“It has to end with a good-night kiss, doesn’t it?”

Tom relaxed, his hands finding their way to your waist. “Oh. Yes, you’re absolutely right.”

The two of you were still smiling as you kissed, and Tom lifted one of his hands to do a silent, sneaky fist-pump. 

Mission: success.

[dreamerhideout]

i love you so

summary: after recovering from a messy break-up with your high school sweetheart, you’d never expect to find happiness in someone who bumped into you on the subway. but that’s where jake sim comes in.

genre: fluff, hurt/comfort, office!au

characters: jake x reader, mentions of ex-boyfriend!jay

warnings: partially proofread, but besides that, none

word count: 1946

a/n: this was supposed to be an entry for the “and then we met” @enhypenwriters writing event, but i think i lost the muse for this a bit too fast (plus, school swamped me again.) i literally wanted to base it off this song by the walters until it dawned on me that it was a heartbreak song :/ hence i made a few adjustments. i’m not quite sure if i’m fully satisfied with how this turned out, but i hope you still enjoy it~

more under the cut!

your heels clicked on the platform as you weaved your way through the crowd of people. it was a bustling monday morning, and waking up half an hour late was not how you expected to start your week. bingeing on this one political-drama show the night before began to feel like a regrettable choice, but there was no time to dwell on that when you see your train pulling up at the platform.

“oh damn, i’m so sorry.”

maybe it was because of how distracted you were from your surroundings that you hadn’t realized that someone bumped into you. as a result, you barely noticed that your coat had gotten stained from the coffee in their cup.

you gave them an apologetic smile, too rushed to get pissed. “no worries.” pausing for a second, you registered the culprit to be a man with a head of chocolate-brown hair and slightly frantic eyes before jogging towards the open subway cart door. once you got on the nearly-stuffed train, your eyes peered down towards your coat. sighing, you swiped at your coffee-stained coat with your finger; perhaps you’d be able to get it cleaned at the office later on if you weren’t getting your ear chewed off by your manager.

-

“we have a new employee joining us today.”

exiting the bathroom door with a slightly-scrubbed coat in hand, you heard your manager call out, then the chatter in the room subsiding. she was standing beside a man that you wouldn’t have vaguely remembered seeing before if it weren’t for the small smile he gave you.

“hi everyone, i’m jake sim. i’ll be working under the research department starting today. it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

you recognized that voice a little too well, then glancing at your dampened coat. who knew that the man you hastily bumped into this morning would be working at your office?

“jake will be occupying the desk next to (y/n)’s, and he’ll also be under my supervision as he’s still on trial for the next two weeks.” almost instantly, your manager turned towards you, who was still standing in front of the bathroom door.

“oh, yes,” you replied, eyes widening slightly. you went towards your cubicle and motioned to the empty desk beside you for jake to put his things, “over here.”

he walked over and placed a box filled with his belongings on top of the table, then unpacking. “well, i never thought i’d see you here,” he chuckled, “really sorry for what happened earlier, by the way.”

“eh, it’s no big deal.” you draped your coat over your chair for it to dry, “i managed to scrub off most of the stain, so it should be fine.”

“are you sure it isn’t ruined?” he turned to face you, slightly quirking an eyebrow.

you grinned in response, “positive."

jake had placed some stationery into a pencil holder before extending out a hand towards you. “i know i’ve introduced myself earlier.” he smiled rather awkwardly, “but for the sake of us being desk-mates, i’ll do it again. i’m jake.”

your hand met his for a quick shake, a knowing smile on your face. “(y/n). nice to meet you.”

-

if you were sure about one thing, it’d be that time flies by when you’re drowning in deadlines. the sun had already disappeared, yet you still sat hunched over your laptop, fingers typing away at a report due tomorrow assigned a few hours ago. you would have argued with your manager on the matter, but the glare she gave you as you were about to open your mouth was enough to make you shrink back into your seat.

out of habit, you grabbed your phone and unlocked it, expecting to see a message notification from jay, your boyfriend, who’d usually come to pick you up from work. when you didn’t receive one, however, it only dawned on you once again that you weren’t even with him anymore. he was the reason why your routine for the past few months had been working and binge-watching on repeat, with the occasional cry session if you were feeling really out of it. moving on after said breakup had been difficult, especially when it involved the very person who vowed to marry you on the day of your high school graduation.

“working overtime?”

you peered up from your head in your hands to see jake. he had pushed his chair back and was looking at you past the divider. it was way past office hours and you swore that you heard the last of your coworkers’ chatter out the door a few hours ago, but you must have been mistaken.

“yeah.” you gave him a grim smile, “some stupid report i was told to do today.”

“ouch,” he winced, closing his laptop. jake then studied your expression, picking up on how exhausted you looked. “tell you what.” he stood up and began slipping items into his backpack, “what if we went home together? maybe i could grab you something on the way back to make up for earlier.”

you looked up from your screen to see a cheeky smile on his lips. the offer did seem tempting, but you were ways away from actually completing the report. “oh that really isn’t necessary...” you threw him a small smile as you waved a hand rather dismissively, “i might be here for a long while, and i wouldn’t want to hold you back from going home.”

“i insist, (y/n).” jake zipped up his backpack after tossing in a file, “i wouldn’t mind waiting since i have nothing due tomorrow.” he then propped an elbow up on the divider, leaning on it as he carefully took note of the obvious strain on your eyes as well as how you had a slight pout on your lips when you were focused, “and besides... you kinda look like you could use some company.”

a small hum was heard from your mouth until you finally sighed in defeat; he definitely wasn’t wrong about company. “if you say so, then.” you stretched your arms, turning away from your screen, “maybe having you around will make me work faster?”

“how so?”

“you know how sometimes kids won’t work on their homework unless there’s an adult cowering over them like a hawk? yeah, that.” 

jake brought a hand to his mouth in an attempt to stifle a laugh, which ended in him snorting instead. you could feel a smile creep up your lips.

-

the trip home was the most fun you’ve had in months. it didn’t occur to you that jake would be such an avid chatterbox, but you were sorely mistaken. he always had a conversation topic up his sleeve, whether it was about daily adult struggles to his childhood back in australia. you also noticed how he absolutely could not shut up about his beloved dog, layla; it’s a wonder how he had an entire album filled with hundreds of her pictures on his phone. slowly but surely, you also began juggling the conversation; it was as if you had reverted to your bright, happy self pre-breakup. talking with him really felt like reuniting with a long-lost friend, and it was only a matter of minutes until you had reached your apartment's front door.

jake had wanted to use your bathroom for a bit, but it ended with you suggesting for him to stay for dinner which consisted of microwaved pizza and sweet tea. you placed the pizza on the coffee table in front of the tv, then starting up the series you were bingeing on the other night.

“is that designated survivor?” jake sat on your sofa before grabbing a slice of pizza from the plate.

“mhm,” you replied, mouth stuffed. swallowing first, you then replied to him, “the synopsis made me curious.”

your remark was met with silence as you saw jake’s gazed fixed intently upon the screen. it wouldn’t have occurred to you that you’d be having a coworker (who was insanely attractive, nonetheless) over for dinner, but it didn’t bother you at all when jake made offhand comments about the characters and scenes of the series. it also occurred to you quite late that you hadn’t gotten napkins out for the both of you.

“hold on, lemme grab something.” you stood up and went towards your cabinets in search for napkins. jake’s attention broke from the screen to follow your figure before his gaze momentarily landed on a photo frame by the side of your sofa. it was a picture of you and your ex-boyfriend, with his arm wrapped around you as you both smiled brightly for the camera.

“i didn’t know you had a boyfriend?” the man teased as he saw you walk back towards him, napkins in hand. your expression dropped when you realized that throughout the time you’ve been trying to mend your broken heart, you had forgotten to put away that photo.

“we broke up.”

guilt flashed across jake’s face as he realized he had overstepped. “oh wow, i’m sorry... i shouldn’t have brought that up.”

“it’s fine. i guess i must’ve forgotten to put that away.” you smiled at him and placed the napkins on the table before flipping the frame down. taking a seat, you sighed as you tried to focus on the show playing in front of you; you could feel bits of dread wallow in the bottom of your stomach.

there was a moment of awkward pause as neither of you knew what to say. just as you were about to ask jake to leave since you could feel dread clawing at your insides, he suddenly spoke up, “you’re... really strong, though.”

turning to face him, you stared at him quizzically, “really?”

“yeah.” jake could feel your eyes on him, “i mean, if it weren’t for me finding out, i would’ve never guessed that you were going through that.” he grabbed another piece of pizza before meeting your gaze, “you’re a great person, (y/n). i think you should know that. and if you’d need someone to talk to about him... although i don’t really know the guy, i’m all ears.”

the way he gave you a soft smile at the end made your heart slightly flutter. maybe it was because there was this very charming man consoling you on your last breakup, but it was more on the fact that you knew someone had your back in your times of healing. “thanks, jake.” you smiled back, feeling your heart lighten. “i appreciate it. a lot.”

jake felt his heart flip at the sight of your smile. it wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen you smile the entire day; it was a different kind as he could see some weight visibly lifted from you. you were pretty cute when you smiled, the way your eyes crinkled at the sides when you did, and he wondered how he hadn’t realized that sooner.

“uh... jake?” you waved a hand in front of his face to break him away from his stare. he quickly snapped out of his reverie, ears tinting a shade of pink.

“oh, yeah, sorry about that...” he murmured nervously, scratching the back of his head, “guess i got a bit distracted there?”

“i noticed.” you giggled in response, turning your attention back towards the tv. you saw how he stared at you after you spoke, eyes lost in a dream-like trance, and you felt your heart go fuzzy.

perhaps you were still healing, and you might need a little more time before jumping into something new. but rest assured, you knew that jake would be waiting on the other side no matter what.

[justcourttee]

Love your stories. The premise for this one involves Plagg learning And overhearing about Lila’s deal With Gabriel. Spying on Adrien and keeping him away from ‘bad influences’. Plagg tells Adrien what he found out, Adrien is a bit reluctant, but when he heard of Lila sabotaging his friends and the involvement with the expulsion. Adrien finally has enough. Your take on how this goes out

This was such a good prompt that I literally had too many ideas of how I wanted it to go. Hopefully, this works :)

Because We’re Friends, Right?

“But Adrien! You have to believe me! It’s not like I was snooping on your father on purpose! I was just trying to find some more Camembert cheese!”

It felt useless arguing with their chosen. For whatever reason, the humans were fond of their personal space and Plagg phasing through walls was an apparent ‘invasion’ of that.

“Plagg, you know I keep a stash in my drawer, how did you blow through it this fast?”

“That’s not the point Adrien! I feel like you are just redirecting your anger at your father on me. After all, for someone who doesn’t like this pigtails girl, you sure got real red when I mentioned Lila setting her up.”

Plagg nudged Adrien’s arm, but it provided no relief. The tension was still strong in the air, almost as if a cataclysm couldn’t breakthrough.

“Plagg, there’s no way Lila is working for my father to keep my friend’s from me. Neither could be so cruel. Lila just wants to get her way and so does my father, I don’t see their agendas ever crossing.”

“Oh, really now, think about Pigtails getting expelled. You knew it was Lila, but you didn’t know what she had to gain from it right? But what did your father have to gain? An excuse to pull you out of school due to the mass amount of akumatizations that would've happened in one day.”

Adrien opened his mouth, ready to argue, but a small nagging thought sat at the back of his head. It was the first time his father had personally called him in a while, not Nathalie, to make sure he was okay and ask him to come back home.

“That doesn’t necessarily mean they’re working together Plagg, it was just a really messed up coincidence. Besides, I know you’re just trying to take the conversation off of the fact that you left my room, again. You’ve gotta stop dude, what if someone catches you?”

Plagg shrugged their shoulders. Adrien was going to need a lot more than just words to convince him, that was for sure. So Plagg settled in, ignoring Adrien’s speech on privacy for the tenth time that month. Sure enough, sooner or later, Adrien was going to see that Plagg was right, and they couldn’t wait to rub it in his face.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Monday morning came and as Adrien exited his room, he found no other than Lila was waiting for him in the foyer, a fake smile plastered on her face as she chatted with Nathalie.

It was suspicious enough to see her standing so freely in his house, but he tried to brush it off, not let his imagination run wild with the stories Plagg had tried to sell him. She was probably there for a last-minute before class shoot that his father scheduled.

That had to be it.

“Hey, Adrien! I thought I’d ride with you to school today seeing as we’re not only school friends but now work buddies too!”

Adrien’s eyes darted to Nathalie’s face for any explanation, but he was given none as she stared straight ahead her usual expressionless look present.

“Sounds good Lila, after all, that’s what friends do huh? Maybe tomorrow we can invite Nino too.”

Nathalie shook her head, shutting down his idea before he even had a chance to fully ask.

“Miss Rossi was only allowed today due to your photoshoot at your lunch hour. Her stuff would be more conveniently located if it were already in the car than waiting for her to gather it from her locker.”

The excuse was pitiful, even Adrien could see through that. But as the small nagging voice in his head grew larger, his will to ignore it did too. There was no way Plagg was right, this was just another coincidence.

So without another word, he walked out the door, Lila practically skipping beside him as they slid into the car. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . As the rest of the week passed, Adrien noticed Lila hanging around the house more and more. Sometimes to catch up on homework, sometimes, well, he wouldn’t even know she was there until he was slipping out his window, a quick glance of her exiting the gates as he landed on the nearest rooftop. As much as he didn’t want to, he was starting to think that he not only owed Plagg an apology but that it was also time to sit down with his father and finally ask him.

So he waited until their next scheduled dinner, the Thursday before a big photoshoot nonetheless, to strike. It was silent like usual, neither looking up much from their plates. Adrien simply wasn’t sure where to begin, but if he didn’t say something, this dinner would end all too soon.

“Uhm, father?”

Gabriel’s eyes rose slowly as if he wasn’t quite sure if he heard him right.

“What is it, Adrien?”

“I-” Adrien cleared his throat trying to swallow his growing nerves. “I just wanted to know why you hired Lila Rossi.”

Gabriel’s eyebrows furrowed as if it was a stupid question for him to ask. As if Lila made the most logical sense.

“She had quite the impressive resume. Miss Rossi has worked with many big names and is around your age. An older model would look bad on my part. That is all.”

He returned his attention back to his nearly finished plate leaving Adrien with a hundred more questions than he had time to ask. Adrien knew her resume was faked and if Nathalie had done her usual background check, she could’ve discovered that with ease. Something didn’t sit right.

“Father, Lila  Rossi has no connections.”

Gabriel’s frown sent a small shiver down Adrien’s back. He had never so openly defied his father, especially in their once a month dinners. It terrified him that angering him could mean never seeing him again.

“I was not made aware. Are you saying Nathalie is incompetent at the one job I hired her for?”

Adrien shook his head quickly. The last thing he wanted to do was get Nathalie in trouble when he knew that no matter what she did, his father, the perfectionist, always double-checked. There was no way he was so in the dark.

“Adrien, I suggest that you drop this topic. Lila Rossi would be an excellent friend and coworker for you, unlike your DJ friend or the young lady with the pigtails.”

The younger blonde opened his mouth to argue, but he saw no point. Without meaning to, his father already confirmed what he had feared.

Plagg was right.

“I apologize father. I will make more efforts to befriend Lila.”

No other words were spoken during their meal. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Weeks came and went and Adrien only felt sicker about the idea. Lila wanted him to date her, his father wanted him to stay home. Lila seems to be working willingly with Hawkmoth who not only benefits her agenda, but his father’s as well.

The more he investigated, the worst he felt. He tried apologizing to Plagg, but the kwamii simply shook it off, only asking for more cheese to compensate for their hurt feelings.

Adrien debated talking to Marinette about it. After all, she was the only one who knew what Lila was like. But something stopped him. Marinette tried to warn him that her lies would hurt their friends, would hurt them, but he shook her off, told her that as long as they were in it together, it didn’t matter if the others knew.

Yet another person he would have to apologize to when this was all over.

As he turned the corner to the lockers, a small yelp caught his attention. Pressing his ear against the wooden door, he could faintly make out the conversation taking place inside.

“-I’m so sorry Nathaniel, please don’t be so upset with me. I asked Adrien to contact the publisher for a meeting because they knew each other better. I really thought I could trust him with such a small task for his friends.”

The sobbing was completely over the top, but unfortunately for him, it seemed to be working. Peeking through the small glass window, Adrien saw the redhead comforting Lila, his face a mixture of anger and disappointment and if Adrien had to take a guess, it wasn’t for Lila.

“It’s rude to spy on people.”

Adrien whipped his head around, his face matching Marinette’s own shade of red.

“Me? Spying? Oh, no, I was just, uh.”

Marinette giggled, the red on her cheeks rising until it reached the tips of her ears. It was adorable.

“It’s okay Adrien, I was just picking on you like you pick on me.”

“Oh,” his chuckle wasn’t as convincing as the red in his own cheeks seemed to meet the tips of his ears as well.

“Adrien, what’s wrong?”

Was she always so good at reading him or was he just an open book lately?

“We can’t talk here, follow me.”

He didn’t bother for her answer as he grabbed her hand, dragging her out into the courtyard. Scanning the area, he found the furthest open bench, bringing Marinette with him. As he sat down, he reluctantly let go, oblivious to the shade of red that had spread now to her neck as well.

“I think my father hired Lila to cause trouble at school in order to force me to come home.”

Marinette bit her lip, unsure how to respond. If it was true, so many things made sense, but it still raised a question.

“What would she gain from that?”

Adrien’s face confirmed her answer before he even spoke.

“As a model, especially a young one, it can be good for business if the models are seen as a couple. Lila has been trying to ask me out since she arrived. I thought that if I was nice, that if I gave in to her demands, she would eventually wear herself out, but here she is, still going strong. I-”

He paused, the image of Nathaniel’s upset face burned into his head.

“I think she’s trying to turn everyone against me so that I’ll choose to go home, where I’ll see her because of work.”

Adrien felt a soft touch on his cheek, the feeling starling him. Marinette reached forward again wiping a tear that he hadn’t realized had fallen.

“Adrien, maybe it’s time we told Alya and Nino. They’re our best friends. I’m sure they’ll understand, they might even know how to help.”

He wanted to shake his head. It would only cause a backlash and he couldn't risk Marinette getting caught in it, but at the same time, he’s left it alone for this long and it has only gotten worse.

“Maybe.”

Her smile was almost blinding as she offered him a hand to stand, apparently intent on seeking them out now. He hesitantly reached up, amazed at how strong she looked standing over him as if she would protect him to the end. It reminded him of someone, but he couldn’t put a finger on it, not when she was standing here so captivating.

“Adrien! How could you?”

Immediately he withdrew his hand as if he was a little kid, caught in the act. In front of him stood Lila, Nathaniel, and worse of all, Alya and Nino.

“When you said Marinette was your special friend, I thought you meant best friend, not the girl you were seeing behind my back.”

Marinette tried to deny it, but Lila wouldn’t even let her get a word in.

“I know you said you were only dating me to please your father, but I thought you were going to try to love me! I mean, I’m the only one who understands your world. Marinette couldn’t even keep up!”

Adrien looked at the gathering crowd, many of them wearing the same weary face.

Adrien, I-”

“That’s enough Lila.”

Silence spread throughout the courtyard as all eyes turned to them. He realized how loud his voice was, but it didn’t matter to him at the moment. In fact, he would get on top of the roof if he had to. He was done cowering away and he would be damned if he let her drag Marinette down.

“Let’s get one thing straight right here. I was not made aware of any arrangements you and my father have made for the company, therefore, I had no clue about this, about us dating. Let me also state that Marinette has more connections in the business that I have met face to face with her than I have standing by your side.”

Lila’s eyes were deadly as if threatening him to continue, but he couldn’t find it in him to stop.

“Marinette has done cover designs and costume accessories for Jagged Stone. You said you saved his non-existent kitten? Well, let’s have Marinette call him right now and see for sure. I mean surely someone who saved his prize animal would remember the name of its savior right?”

“He’s too busy right now, that’s not necessary-”

“And how about you teaching Clara dance moves? Marinette was actually picked to be the star in her music video and impressed Clara when she turned down the spot to get her friends in the video as well. She even came up with the idea that Clara used for her Miraculous music video. She has her phone number as well, shall we call her as well?”

“I-”

“What about your connections in the fashion business? Besides me, you have none. Marinette has managed to impress Style Queen Audrey Bourgeois with a derby hat, the same hat that she impressed my father with as well. Don’t doubt for a second that she couldn’t keep up in my world.”

The growing crowd seemed split, unsure who to believe. Alya and Nino had slinked away from Lila’s side as they comforted the very pale Marinette. Adrien wanted to rush over, be by her side as well, but he had to stand his ground, see it through to the end.

“I don’t understand Adrien, why are you doing this? You know I have a disease that causes me to lie, I just-”

Adrien placed a hand on her shoulder sending a wave of shock through the girl.

“Because we’re friends, right?”

Lila’s eyes narrowed at his words.

“Friends can’t let other friends hurt themselves with lies, whether those lies were meant to wound or not. I understand you and my father have an arrangement, but with your condition, I don’t believe it would be best for you to be in the spotlight. If you don’t have a strong center, the cameras will eat you up. As your friend, I’m asking you to take a less stressful job.”

The group around them cooed as if Adrien caring about Lila’s health was just so in character of him. As if the two weren’t locked in a silent battle, one only they could see.

“Fine, I’ll resign tonight, but I doubt your father would like that very much.”

Her half-cocked smile worried him. She was obviously far from done, but for the moment he was ready to celebrate a small victory.

“Let me worry about my father, after all, what are friends for?”

Lila nodded, her head tilted as if seeing Adrien in a new light. He didn’t bother waiting around for her answer. Instead, he made his way over to where his friends’ stood.

“Marinette, I’m sorry about that. I know you were trying to keep your connections a secret.”

She shook her head ferociously, her eyes shining with what looked like pride.

“Adrien, we’re going to try and find Andre cart, would you like to come with us?”

“Like as couples?”

Marinette’s face flushed red as she began stumbling over her words, trying to back away, only failing when Alya pushed her back.

“Relax Marinette,” his chuckle surprised even himself. Why was it so easy to flirt with her? Was it just a friend thing? “Today we’ll go as friends, but maybe some other time we’ll try the couple thing.”

“Agreste, did you have to go and break her?”

Alya playfully shoved him as the four of them left the school, ignoring the stares they were receiving. It was so easy right now, but Adrien regretfully knew that it was just the calm before the storm.

Permanent Tag List:

@ash-amg @rebecarojas07 @heaven428 @long-lost-peace @thequeenofpotatoeunicornss @moongoddesskiana @nach0ava @iamablinkmarvelarmy @seraphkitty @clumsy-owl-4178 @pawsitivelymiraculous

[blueboxesandtrafficcones]

The Nuptial Necessity - Chapter 9

A 12xRose Human AU

Despite an unglamorous job description, Rose loves the work she does with The Thistle Foundation, a charity founded by her best friend’s great-uncle.  It doesn’t hurt that her boss, her friend’s father, is easy on the eyes.  With a great job, wonderful friends and a loving family, life couldn’t be better – except for having someone to share it with.

All of that is threatened, though, when the great-uncle dies – and sets a strange condition for his nephew to inherit, jeopardizing the Foundation and Rose’s future, sparking a chain of events that might just get her everything she dreamed of and more.

Chapters will be posted on Saturdays and Tuesdays.  Many thanks to my beta, @stupidsatsuma

Rated: Explicit, for eventual smut

@doctorroseprompts

AO3  |  Masterlist

—

Monday

Rose accepted the takeaway containers with a bright smile and handful of bills, skirting around the security desk for the lift, letting out a breath when she made it inside without getting stopped by Mickey.  She knew he knew her ‘news’, had barely managed to escape him and his questions that morning, and was relieved to be able to put off the inevitable conversation a little while longer.

Letting herself back into their office suite, she stopped at her desk long enough to grab her tablet and mobile before letting herself into Malcolm’s office.

“Food’s here.”

Malcolm shot up, immediately abandoning his computer in favor of taking the food from her.  “Why didn’t you say something?  I’d have gone down to fetch it,” he fussed, setting the pizza box on his coffee table and grabbing water bottles from his mini-fridge.  “Sit, sit.”

“I was fine,” Rose rolled her eyes, stepping out of her heels before sinking down on the couch and separating two paper plates.  “Honestly, don’t- don’t do that.”

“Do what?”  He settled next to her, opening the box and plating them a slice each.  “What did I do?”

Biting her lip, she accepted the plate, holding it in the air with one hand as the other spread several napkins over the lap of her designer skirt.  “Don’t…”  She didn’t know how to say it.  “Don’t act like anything’s changed,” she finally decided on.  “Don’t go all formal and deferential on me, or any shit like that.  This doesn’t change anything.”

Making a face, Malcolm sighed.  “Fine, if you say so,” he twisted the lid off his bottle.  “How’s your morning been so far?”

Really?  Small talk?  “Productive.  Got lots of information about… everything.  And before you ask, everything is good with the Gala, right on schedule.”

“What did you find?”  He took a large bite of pizza, a stray string of cheese catching on his chin, and for a moment she fantasized about leaning forward and cleaning it with her tongue.  Down, girl.

“You have to give notice at your local register’s office at least 14 days prior to the ceremony.  Since we’re in different parts of the city we have to give notice separately; I booked us appointments for first thing tomorrow morning, so we can take care of it on our way in.  Before you can, though, we need a date and a location for the… the ceremony.”  She nibbled on the point of the slice.  “We need to document the location, as well as our individual addresses.  You need your passport and birth certificate.  Proof of your divorce.”

Malcolm snorted.  “So, fairly simple then.”

Laughing, she stretched out her leg to prod his thigh with her toe.  “It is, actually, once we settle on… specifics.”

“Well, I’ve made some tentative arrangements,” he said, opening up his own organizer.  “Though I’d like to hear what you’ve been thinking first.”

That I want this to be real, that I want you to love me as I do you, that I want to spend my life with you.  “I’m not particularly fussy on details,” she shrugged one shoulder, watching her fingers pick at the crust of her slice.  “Given everything, I think we should go simple, easy, and practical.”

“You may approve of my plan then,” he smiled wryly.  “I was thinking the back garden at the Townhouse.  My chef does catering on the side, the flower vendor for the Gala can pull something together as a favor, one of Clara’s coworkers DJs on the weekend…  Ceremony in the garden, reception in the ballroom, and if you want, honeymoon up at the Estate in Scotland – they’ll be expecting us to honeymoon if they don’t know the truth, and that way you can see the property and meet the staff, and I can check in – haven’t been up there in years.”

Honeymoon.  Rose’s smile froze, two separate trains of thought racing through her mind.  The first was Jackie would inevitably want details on the getaway – intimate details.  I’ll either have to lie about shagging him, or tell the truth that we’re not – neither of those is particularly appealing.

The second track involved them, a private beach, open bar, and unending pleasure under a hot sun.  Mhmm.

“Rose?”

“Yeah?” she snapped back to attention, hoping he couldn’t see the warmth in her cheeks as she willed herself not to flick her eyes over his lap.  Never gonna happen, Rose Tyler, you need to accept that.  “Um, that sounds good.  I’ve never been to Scotland.”

“Okay, then.”  He took another large bite, watching her thoughtfully as he chewed.  “All right?”

Rose nodded, finally digging into her own slice with relish.  “Just thinking of everything there is to do.”

“We’ll get it done,” he said confidently.  “We make a good team.”

“We do.”

But we could be so much more.

-

“Thistle Foundation, this is Rose.”

“Well, aren’t you going to ask me?” Clara snapped down the line, and Rose stopped typing with a frown.

“What?”

Her friend sighed heavily.  “Am I, or am I not, your best friend?”

“You are.”

“And are you, or are you not, getting married?”

“I am.”  Despite the circumstances, a happy little thrill went through Rose at the thought.  He’ll have to kiss me, during the ceremony, she realized smugly.  Maybe it’ll open his eyes, and he’ll see what’s literally been in front of him all along.

“Well?!”

Rose rolled her eyes.  “I have no idea what you’re looking for, and am very busy- what’s up?”

This time, Clara was quiet, almost… hurt?  “You don’t have anything to ask me?”

Brow furrowing, Rose wracked her brain for anything outstanding, but came up empty.  “No?”

“Oh.”  Was that a sniffle?  “Okay.”

“Clara-”

“I’ve got to go,” her friend cut her off, a definitely wavery tone to her voice.  “Bye.”

And the line disconnected.

Pressing her lips firmly together to hide a smile, Rose went back to working on the Gala program, keeping one eye on the clock.

Ten minutes later the phone rang again, and she was already grinning as she answered.  “Thistle-”

“Yes!” Clara screamed.  “Yes, yes, yes!”

“Are you sure?  You don’t seem particularly enthused at the idea,” Rose teased, leaning back in her chair.  “I could always ask-”

“Don’t you fucking dare!”

She had to laugh at that, could almost hear down the line her friend vibrating with excitement.  “So, just to be clear, you will be my maid of honor?”  Glancing up, she caught Malcolm’s eye as he happened past, frowning when he stopped dead with an unsettling expression of horror.

“Of course!” Clara said, “How could I not be?  Right, I’ll meet you at yours at half-six so we can start planning.  I’ll bring the food. I’ve got to run, but I’ll see you then! I’m so excited!”  And with another squeal, not waiting for a response, the line once again went dead.

“Something wrong?” Rose asked, keeping a wary eye on Malcolm as she hung up the receiver.  “Changed your mind?”

He slowly shook his head.  “No, it’s not that, I just- Well.”  He shifted, looking uncomfortable.  “I suppose I’d always imagined that were I to remarry, well, that Clara would stand up for me.  Be my best man, in a manner of speaking.”

“Oh.”  Once he said it it seemed obvious; of course he’d want his daughter at his side.  She’d been friends with Clara for just over a decade; he’d had her Clara’s entire life.  “Right.  I mean- Duh.  Um, I can talk to her tonight, if you want- unask her, so you can.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” he waved his hand in a would-be casual way, still frowning.  “I’ll… find someone else.”

“I have other friends I can ask,” Rose pressed, “it’s fine.  Really.”

Malcolm shook his head.  “She’s your best friend,” he maintained, “and it’s only natural.  Don’t worry about it.”

And he walked away, leaving Rose with worry gnawing at her gut.

How are we supposed to make this work?

-

Malcolm sank into his desk chair, leaning back and staring at the ceiling.

I don’t know what to do.

It hadn’t even occurred to him, to ask Clara to stand up for him- they’d been thick as thieves most of her life, especially after the divorce and move.  Two peas in a pod, Wallace used to laugh, and it had been fitting.  Even as she’d grown up and moved out their relationship had remained mostly the same; while they were father and daughter first, she was also his best friend.

But she was also Rose’s, and of course she would stand up for her; it was obvious in hindsight.

His mobile buzzed, and he checked the screen to see an incoming call from Pete Tyler.  Shit.  “Tucker.”

“Hey, Malc, how’s it going?”

“Good, good,” he answered vaguely, sitting up straight.  “How can I help you?”

“Listen-”  oh, fuck, that’s not good.  “Let’s have dinner, tonight- preferably at yours.  I want to talk to you about this wedding.”  Shiiit.  “How’s seven?”

Malcolm swallowed, clicking the icon on his screen that would pull up his calendar.  “Sure.  Uh, will Jackie be joining us?”

“No, you and me.  Man to man, father to father… that sort of thing.”

“Uh huh.”  He sighed.  “Sure, seven’s fine.  I’ll… grill some steaks, we can talk.”

“See you then.”

The call disconnected, and he dropped the mobile to the desktop with a groan, cradling his head in his hands.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

When Wallace had passed, Malcolm had been at peace with it – the old man had lived a full life, full of charity and happiness, and it meant an end to his suffering.  Now, though, seeing what his uncle had left behind for him…

Is it even fucking worth it?

-

By the time three o’clock came, Rose was more than ready for the day to be over.  For the hopeful way she’d started the day, it had certainly ended on a sour note.

Getting married is supposed to be a happy thing – and even though we’re not actually a couple, it’s still not terrible.  I could do a lot worse. And, honestly, it’s not like either of us have found our soulmates – even if it’s not love, it can still be companionship.  But… it also feels like this is more fragile than I first considered.

“Hey.”

Rose looked up only to find Malcolm looking as bad as she felt.  “Hi.”

“That’s me off,” he gestured towards the lift with his thumb.  “You might as well head out too.  Get a fresh start tomorrow.”

“Okay.”  She didn’t hesitate to log off her computer, pushing back from the desk.  “Don’t forget to go to the Register’s Office tomorrow – I’ve already given Graham the details, but you’ll need to pull your documents together.  I emailed you a list of exactly what you’ll need.”

“Thanks,” he smiled wanly.  “Now, get your shit – I’ll walk you out.”

It was only a matter of seconds to be ready to go, and she was startled but pleased when Malcolm helped her into her coat.

“Thanks.”

He didn’t acknowledge it, just gently pulled her hair out from her collar.  “Let’s go.”

Settling her purse in the crook of her elbow she walked with him, letting him play the gentlemen.  This is nice, she thought wistfully.  If only it were real.

“I was thinking,” he said casually, “that after the- well, after, we might as well keep the same hours.  I know you seem to prefer to be in before me, but- Obviously it wouldn’t make any sense for Graham to bring you in and then come back for me.  If nothing else, I hope this makes your life a little easier – not having to deal with the Tube, and all.”

Her lips twitched in amusement.  Is that the best you think you have to offer?

“Plus,” he coughed, as the doors opened and he let her out, “I… I don’t know about you, but it might be nice to have someone around.  At the house, I mean.  To not… be alone.”

She paused as they stepped out onto the pavement, waving hello to Graham before focusing on Malcolm, studying his expression.  Is he blushing?  “That would be nice,” she agreed softly.  “I do like living alone, mostly, but… it also gets lonely.”

“We can be lonely together,” he offered, quirking his lip, and she grinned.

“Works for me.”

[artificialqueens]

don't make me wait another day, chapter 3: good as hell (kamasia) - holtzmanns, writworm42

A/N: Last chapter, Kameron and Asia continued their flirtation over text and agreed to have another session. This chapter, Kameron prepares for their second session before being Very Distracted in it. Thank you Bean for beta-ing, we love you!!!

Title from Good as Hell by Lizzo

The week creeps by far too slowly for Kameron’s liking. It doesn’t matter how many clients she sees, how many hours she clocks, how many appointments or errands or other things she fills her personal time with. By Monday, everything starts to meld together, a blob of meaningless, tedious chores.

Well. A blob of meaningless, tedious chores, except for one small detail.

On Thursday, at 3 p.m. on the dot, she’s going to see Asia again.

“That’s all very romantic,” Kameron’s coworker, A’keria, interrupts her story with a roll of her eyes, “but if you tell me how sick you are of waiting for Thursday one more time, imma have to go drown myself in the pool.”

“Oh, leave her alone, Kiki!” Another of Kameron’s friends, Vanessa, pipes up from her place at the front desk. “You just bitter ‘cause you ain’t got no man.”

“Please, bitch, you ain’t any better than miss Kam over here. Where’s Brooke Lynn, anyway, you finally separated her from your clingy ass?” A’keria grunts, glaring daggers at Vanessa as the other woman blushes deeply.

“She’s cleaning the pool,” Vanessa grumbles under her breath.

“Excellent, so she drownin’ herself already, too.”

“You’re both the worst.” Kameron grumps before a gym member comes by to ask Vanessa a question, breaking up their conversation. It’s not that she doesn’t think she’s being annoying–she knows she is, she’d probably be fed up too if she had to listen to herself. But at the same time, she can’t help it.

Asia O’Hara, the gorgeous woman with the white teeth and the amazing sense of humour, is going to be spending time with her again in less than a week. In just a few days, she’s going to be spending a whole hour with her.

A lot can happen in an hour.

Her phone buzzes beside her, interrupting her thoughts. Before she can grab it, though, a long, pale hand swipes it up for her.

“Oooh, Asia again?” Brooke grins, waggling her eyebrows over the top of Kameron’s phone. “You guys text a lot for girls who’ve just met.”

“Give me my phone back.” Kameron snatches it away from her hands, furiously keying in her password as Brooke snickers fucking lesbians under her breath. “And go fist Vanessa while you’re at it.”

She looks up her phone just in time to see Brooke thrust her fist in the air as she walks away.

A: Say, I was thinking…

K: Yeah, I do that a lot too

Kameron smiles to herself as she sends that text off, hoping that as cheesy as it is, it’ll make Asia laugh.

A: BITCH

Mission accomplished. Before she can enjoy the moment though, three dots pop up on the screen, and her heart stops for a moment.

A: Seriously. I was thinking

A: I probs need new workout gear. I don’t have much.

A: Just a sports bra and some shorts maybe

A: I want something with good support tho.

Kameron’s throat goes dry, all thoughts in her mind suddenly scattered like ping pong balls. Asia’s flirting with her. This is a clear, blatant display of trying to turn Kameron on, trying to get her to imagine Asia in tight spandex shorts and a sports bra that puts just a little cleavage on display. Isn’t it?

Kameron is Asia’s personal trainer, and she’s texted Kameron for advice on things like how to do a particular home exercise in the past. Maybe she only wants a recommendation of where to buy new clothes, that’s a possibility too, and there could be no flirtation at all-

“Bitch, she’s flirting with you.” Vanessa’s scratchy voice over her shoulder makes Kameron jump. She’s about to chew Vanessa out for reading her screen when another text comes through, and Vanessa smiles wickedly as they both turn to look at what it says.

A: How d’you feel about something like this?

The attached picture nearly makes Kameron’s mouth go dry. It’s a mirror shot, Asia twisted slightly to the side. Maroon leggings hug Asia’s ass perfectly, and she really doesn’t even need to do the crap ton of squats that Kameron always forces on her clients.

Asia has one of those body types that’s naturally muscular, naturally defined, the kind that usually makes Kameron grumble out of jealousy because she has to actually work for her own. Asia, though, with the slight indentation of abs that peek out above her high waisted shorts, makes Kameron feel more lightheaded than anything else. Asia’s matching bra crisscrosses over her shoulder blades, tracing around the muscles of her back and framing her breasts in a way that makes Kameron dizzy, her eyes moving frantically to pick a spot to focus on first ( how is she supposed to pick a spot to focus on first?).

And if there’s any doubt that Asia knows exactly what she’s doing, another text follows up, one that’s almost mocking in its blatancy.

A: So you think these will have enough support?

Kameron lets out a laugh in disbelief, because Asia’s really trying to kill her, she is, and having a grand old time while doing so.

Though two can play at this game.

K: Mm, tough to say. We’ll have to test that out together, won’t we?

There’s no response for a moment, enough time for Kameron to come dangerously close to spiralling, wondering if she’s said too much, too soon.

“Still texting her?” Brooke taps her fingers on the other side of the counter and Kameron jumps, nearly dropping her phone in the process.

“Nope! Nope. Why do you guys care so much, anyway?” So what if she’s texting Asia? Especially if she hasn’t replied. Why hasn’t she replied yet-

Bzz.

“Bitch, look at this!” Kameron is pulled back sharply as Vanessa materializes behind her, grabbing onto her shoulder for support as she cranes up on her tiptoes to peek at the text message that pops up on her screen.

A: can’t wait to see how you like them in action ;)

“Damn, I know you’re lesbians, but y’all move fast!” Vanessa’s voice is gleeful as she dances around to the other side of the counter, leaning against Brooke’s side and beaming when she wraps an arm around her.

“Your girlfriend is literally beside you right now.” Kameron points between the two of them.

Vanessa flips her ponytail over her shoulder. “And?”

Kameron rolls her eyes, turning away from the others with an exasperated sigh. “I don’t have to be here, I got a session to get to.”

“At two-thirty? Huh, A’keria, did you know we were doin’ sessions on the half-hour now?”

���Hm, you know, that’s funny, ‘cause I’m lookin’ at the schedule right now, and Kam doesn’t even have anything until four…”

“Prep time!” Kameron fires back over her shoulder and flips the others off as she hurries away, but she’s unable to keep the smile off her face as she goes.

____

Kameron spends a bit longer than necessary choosing her outfit on Thursday morning. Sure, the muscle tee she goes for shows off her arms, though she’s most definitely not wearing it for a specific reason, nor is she wearing the spandex shorts to get a certain someone’s attention.

Most definitely not.

Lo and behold, Asia is wearing the sports bra and leggings from the picture that she had sent earlier in the week, the one that feels like it’s branded onto Kameron’s eyelids because she can’t stop thinking about it. Kameron can feel herself swallow hard while she tries to keep her eyes up, waving at Asia as she walks in and drops her duffle bag on the counter.

“Hey, Kam.” Asia’s voice is sugary sweet and the toss of her ponytail over her shoulder would almost make Kameron laugh, if it wasn’t fucking hot at the same time.

“Hey.” Kameron can’t help the slight curve of her lip. She’s been looking forward to this hour more than she wants to admit. “Ready for me to kick your ass in the gym again?”

“ Bitch, first of all, I’m fit as hell-”

“That you are.”

“-and - wait, hey .” Asia pokes Kameron’s side. “Second of all, you really should kick my ass outside of the gym. I mean, what?”

Asia spins on her heels and walks to drop her duffle bag in the change room before Kameron even processes what she says, her mouth dropping open when she sees the way that Asia winks at her before disappearing behind the door.

Kameron wants to take it back. She’s not ready for the mini heart attack that Asia will mostly likely be responsible for causing.

Asia returns and Kameron rolls out her shoulders, gathering her thoughts because she is at work, and Asia is her client, and she can’t exactly do anything stupid while on the clock, no matter how much she wants to. And no matter how much Asia is hinting that she wants the same.

That can wait. Kameron’s patient.

Kameron tries to keep her cool as Asia starts her warm up, running through the exercises that she’s going to take Asia through in her head. They’re things that she’s done a million times with clients, but with Asia, it feels different - Kameron really wants to impress her, get her to come back. Catch her interest.

Asia wipes the sweat from her brow as she rises from her last burpee, panting. “I will never, ever forgive you for making me do these. Never. It’s been two minutes and my legs are already jelly.”  

Kameron passes Asia her water bottle, her eyes trailing along the curve of Asia’s jawline as she grabs a drink. “That was only our first exercise.”

Asia groans. “Remind me why I come to your sadistic ass for personal training again?”

“A part of you enjoys it, I can tell.” Kameron grins. It’s unfair, really, that Asia still looks good after breaking a sweat.

“Pfft.” Asia grumbles underneath her breath as she tucks a stray later behind her ear. “As if.”

“Admit it, you do.”

“Make me.” Asia grins at her with a wicked gleam in her eyes, her tongue peeking between her lips which is distracting enough to make Kameron’s eyes flit downwards.

“Okay.” Kameron smirks, noticing Asia’s slight raise of her eyebrows. “Let’s do five more burpee reps then. C’mon.”

“Bitch.”

Kameron’s proud of herself, really, for staying professional throughout their warmup and the beginning of when Asia begins lifting. At least, until she has to spot Asia.

Her fingertips ghost along Asia’s bare sides, along the small strip of midriff showing between her sports bra and the top of her leggings. Kameron can see the goosebumps rising along Asia’s skin as she shifts her hands to support her back. It’s a contrast from the way that they’re sweating underneath the almost suffocating heat of the gym, the stuffiness not quite overbearing enough to keep Kameron from feeling a shiver run through her system.

“Next one, I’m going to have you squat while holding the bar above your head.” Kameron lifts the bar, handing it to Asia who grunts.

“No extra weights on it?” Asia lifts the bar up above her head, arms beginning to tremble, and Kameron snorts as she lifts her own hands up to the bar to stabilize Asia’s grip.

“Gotta start with just the bar first. It weighs fifteen pounds on its own.” Kameron brings her hands down slowly as Asia’s grip on the bar becomes stronger.

“Fifteen? Damn, I don’t want anymore weights on top of this.”

“Now squat with it.” Kameron has to hold in a laugh when Asia makes a face of disbelief.

“Bend my legs? While holding this shit? I’m not going to be able to get back up.” Asia huffs, her grip tightening on the bar.

“Just try. If you get stuck, I’ll help you get back up.” Kameron can’t help herself, really, from the wink that she sends in Asia’s direction. Especially because it makes Asia blush, before she lets out a scoff.

“You will, huh?”

“I’m very supportive.”

“Yeah, I bet you are.”

Kameron’s not sure if she’s imagining the way that Asia’s glance flits from her eyes down to her lips, then back up, the way that her tongue peeks out from between her lips. She distracts herself from the fact that all she wants to do is lean in, kiss Asia, maybe bite on her lower lip and see if it makes her moan because-

She’s still at work.

So she takes a step back, coming to stand behind Asia before she starts her reps. Her hands hover near the bar without quite touching, should Asia need the support. Asia’s warm in front of her, the beads of sweat dripping down the back of her neck showing the effort that she’s putting in to keep bar up, along with her shaky hands.

By the time the session is over, Kameron’s absolutely twitching. It doesn’t help, really, when they finish and high five and Asia takes the opportunity to lean on Kameron, an elbow on her shoulder. Asia’s wiping the sweat from her brow, the muscles of her taut stomach lightly shifting as she breathes, and somehow it’s fucking hot. Kameron’s parched, and it’s not for water.

“So, do I get a reward or something for surviving that session?” Asia tilts her head as she looks over, the gleam in her eyes making Kameron’s mind travel a million miles an hour.

“Depends on what what you want.” Kameron doesn’t miss a beat, doesn’t hide the way that she slowly drags her eyes from Asia’s face down her frame, knowing that Asia’s watching.

“You should come and find out.” Asia lifts her elbow from Kameron’s shoulder, turning on her heels to flounce towards the changing rooms, the very ones where Kameron knows there are rows and rows of showers.

The wink that Asia throws at her before letting the door swing closed behind her is enough to get her to follow, after dropping her clipboard behind the front desk without a second thought.  

Good thing Asia’s her last client for the day.

[clockworkmoose]

The saga of this past week:

So a day or two after I put in my two-weeks notice in January (which turned into not-quitting-but-stepping-down-into-a-roll-where-I-only-work-when-I-choose-to-teaching-classes-and-nothing-else-if-I-don’t-want-to) Chaos employee got written up by my manager for unprofessional-ism and tardiness, and in retaliation/reaction, Chaos submitted an ADA request form along with a deposition from a court case that basically read that she was “average” in all tested mental aspects. Chaos felt this was sufficient proof to get an ADA accommodation to arrive late to her shifts and badmouth me, her manager, to customers and other employees.

HR disagreed. 

HR put her on a week of leave to get the ACTUAL forms and doctor notes she needed for an ADA accommodation and to figure out what sort of accommodation she WOULD be getting (I had been giving her a 15 minute window to arrive late for 2 years, I was giving her a schedule a minimum of 4 weeks out in written, texted, and verbal format for 2 years... I don’t know what reasonable accommodation can be made for telling customers that your boss isn’t doing her job properly and that Chaos should be the boss instead.....)

Chaos decided that being asked to provide the legally required documents constituted discrimination and harassment, and quit (Dec. 20th or thereabouts). Put in her 2 weeks, HR said “no that’s okay, don’t come back to the store ever.”

For the rest of the week and a half of my time as manager, I had to pull up records (I keep VERY good records, I like paperwork, I am very good at paperwork is something I learned from this job) basically defending myself from accusations and lies that Chaos kept telling HR. We’re talking she sent 30 emails in 3 days level of crazy. Saying things like that I was stealing money from the customers. I was stealing commissions from my employees. I was favoring one employee over her in terms of scheduling (this was the exact opposite! I was favoring CHAOS LADY because she gave me no choice of when to schedule her except the exact timeblocks she picked, so everyone else had to get slotted around her!)

One of the last emails she sent on Friday (Dec. 31) was the one where she informed HR that I had been changing commission credit from other people to myself, stealing money from Chaos’s paycheck. I wasn’t supposed to see this email, but it was forwarded from HR to my manager, who showed me in a fit of “Oh my god, can you believe this? There is a VISIBLE TO ALL EMPLOYEES record of every change made in the commission report! She could check and see this isn’t true!”

In this email, Chaos strongly suggested to HR that I ought to be fired.

Side note: I never told Chaos that I put in my 2 weeks because she had her meltdown before I had a chance and frankly I didn’t want to at that point.

Saturday, I send out an email to our entire customer base (Chaos included) saying that the store is hiring for a new manager position.

I get a text from Chaos on Sunday morning all full of fake concern that I’ve been fired, saying that she did her best to go to bat for me, say that I was a good manager, and that I was the best for the job. I don’t reply.

On Monday she calls the store and is surprised I answer. I tell her that no, I’m not fired, I quit on my own terms, and am leaving on a good footing. Chaos is surprised, but says she’s happy I wasn’t fired. She sounds the opposite of happy. Later that day is when manager finalized the plan of me not quitting outright, but to work on my own terms. I keep my employee discount, I keep teaching classes I love, win win.

Now, Chaos’s stepmom is a customer with us. And Chaos must’ve told Stepmom that I’ve quit, because stepmom calls the store a little later on concerned that the class she signed up for will be canceled. I reassure her, no, I’m not quitting, I will still be teaching her class. 

On Tuesday, New manager is in the store, her first day fully taking over the manager role. Phone rings, New manager answers it. Chaos is on the line, confused about her stepmom telling her I was still teaching. Didn’t I quit? New manager has been warned that Chaos is not to be calling the store, as per HR, she has to go through them. New manager DOES say that she can’t share information on any employees, past or present, and then that no, she can not tell Chaos when I am working next to schedule a conversation with me (something we do for customers) because I am not on the schedule for that.

On Wednesday, stepmom calls back again, worried AGAIN that I’ve been fired, having heard that I’m not on the schedule from Chaos. I reassure her that technically, I am not on the schedule, because I am not available to be scheduled for a “customer callback” with Chaos. I will be coming in, teaching my entire shift, and then leaving. No time for phone calls. I am still teaching her class, no worries, I have not been fired.

On Sunday, I go in, teach the class with Stepmom. Tell employee/coworker that I will see him on Monday (yesterday). Stepmom must have told Chaos I was going to be working on Monday. What I meant was “I will bring in these teddy bear googly eyes for you on Monday and then go shopping in a different town.” Coworker knew this as per prior conversations.

So Chaos went in to the store yesterday to see me. And was told that I “wasn’t working, was just dropping off some things for the store before I left town.”

So she called the store today, complaining that we were all lying to her about me being fired and skipping town in disgrace. To which new manager was like, what are you talking about, she’s still here, she’s still teaching classes every week this month???

And at this point, Chaos has literally no idea what my status is at the store, we are all accidentally unintentionally contradicting each other and also her own assumptions, and completely fucking with her without meaning to.

And I could call/text her and clear everything up, and when I heard that today it happened YET AGAIN I felt bad...

but after like 30 seconds the feeling passed and I did a nasty mean little giggle and went on with my day. 

[lalainajanes]

Hi! idk if you're still taking prompts but can you do one where klaus and caroline are coworker's who are always getting into heated screaming matches during team meetings and everyone who works with them is just used to it, but the new girl is like wtf??? and then later finds out that they're actually married and don't hate each other?? thanks!! your writing gives me life

Obviously I could not resist fluff day! For Step Two of @klarolineshippersclub 12KCXmas event!

With Friends Like These

The office is deserted – its 7 PM on a Friday – so Caroline’sstartled by the sound she hears coming from the hall. It’s a staccato series oftaps. Heels, eating up the distance quickly, and she rolls her chair back,grabbing her phone from the corner of the desk just in case someone’s bleeding.

She’s about to go and see what’s happening, when Kat barrelsin. Her eyes are wide with what Caroline suspects is glee, her hair a wildwindblown mass of curls. Her jackets only half buttoned and she tosses asideher purse, rushing towards Caroline. “You will not believe what I just heard!”

Caroline lets herself be shaken, taking another confusedlook at Kat’s dishevelment. “Did you run from the bar? Thought you were goingto try to seduce the new guy.”

Katherine looks offended. “Try? Please. Mason’s a sure bet.He’ll keep until next week.”

“Wow,” Caroline drawls. “Something came up that’s kept youfrom guaranteed sex? Must be big.”

Katherine lets go of her, tossing her hair over her shoulderand letting out an irritated huff. “Yeah, yeah, mock me. We don’t all get to scheduleregular freaky married sex.”

It takes a fair amount of willpower not to tear her eyesaway and Caroline lifts her chin stubbornly. Katherine might know far too many details about her and Klaus’ sex life butthat was only because Caroline gets a little over share-y when tequila’sinvolved in a girl’s night out. Klaus is shameless enough not to care, evenwhen Kat’s comments get overly pointed. If anything, he leans into it, lets hishands linger and does his best to make Caroline blush. Caroline is working onbuilding up the same aplomb in the face of Kat’s suggestive smirks and taunts.

“You seem to do just fine in the freaky sex department,” shesnipes back.

Katherine grins, slow and very pleased with herself. “Ireally do.”

Caroline groans, walking over to the couch that lines onewall of her office. “I do not want to have this conversation with you.”

Her dry spell is hours away from ending and she’s really looking forward to it.

Klaus has been gone for ten days, dealing with inspectionsfor the new hotel the company is opening in London. Caroline’s team is busy puttingtogether room concepts so she hadn’t been able to justify taking the time awayto accompany him.

She likes phone sex as much as the next girl whose husbandhas a hot accent but it got old after a few days. She misses having a warm bodyto roll into at night; the way he wakes he scrapes his morning beard againsther shoulder when she grumbles about the alarm.

“Someone’s cranky!” Katherine sings. She circles Caroline’sdesk, helping herself to the bourbon that’s stashed in the lowest drawer. “Mynews might not help you.”

Oh joy.

Caroline slouches low, letting her legs flop ratherungracefully, “And yet, you rushed all the way back here to tell me about it?”

“It’s just too hilarious. I couldn’t not.”

Katherine’s sense of humor is a weird thing, an acquiredtaste, so Caroline braces herself. “Alright, hit me.”

“Uh uh. Let me set the scene.”

“And people say I’m dramatic.”

Kat ignores the complaint, lifting the bottle high. “There Iam, in the ladies room…”

“Taking off your panties so you could stuff them in Mason’spocket?”

“Please. Like you’ve never used that move.”

Caroline could honestly say she hadn’t (Klaus likes toremove her lingerie himself) but Katherine’s already continuing her tale. Sheperches on the edge of Caroline’s desk, wiggling in an effort to getcomfortable.

So it’s not going to be a short story. Caroline presses herlips together, holding in a sigh, glancing at the clock. She’s supposed to grabKlaus from the airport at eleven and she’d planned go home and change intosomething easier to remove beforehand. Hopefully Katherine can resist the urgeto embellish too extensively.

“I’m minding my own business, about to flush, when I hear afamiliar name.”

“Yours?”

“Nope, yours. Preceded and followed by some very colorfuldescriptors.” She pauses expectantly, eagerly watching for Caroline’s reaction.

Only to be disappointed when Caroline shrugs, emitting onlya dismissive, “Somehow I’ll survive.” The last time she’d really been overlyconcerned with other people liking her she’d owned pom poms.

Katherine, however, isn’t finished.

“Really? Even when I tell you that our little bathroomgossiper had very complimentary things to say about your hubs?”

Her hands curl into the couch’s cushions, a teeny flare ofjealousy flaring bright.

She’s an only child and she gets a little possessive, okay?Klaus is into it. He’s also no stranger to getting growly and shooting murdereyes and staking a claim and, since he’s got a bajillion siblings, he doesn’t evenhave the same justification for being bad at sharing.

Those incidents usually result in an immediate need forprivacy (or the reasonable facsimile found behind a locked office door or thebackseat of a car). The next day they’ll sleep in, there will be hickies on herthighs and scratches on his back, and they’ll eat dessert for breakfast.

Honestly, Caroline kind of loves that particular ritual,knows very well that Klaus does too.

“Not everyone thinks Klaus is awful,” Caroline points out.

“Because most people are dumb and lack my excellent taste.”

Caroline eyes the bottle, seriously considering chugging abit and just calling a cab when it’s time to collect Klaus. She really doesn’twant to be drunk for their reunion but, if Kat doesn’t hurry up and get to apoint, it might be her best option. “I love you so I’m going to ignore the factthat you kinda just called me dumb.”

Katherine scoffs, “You’re not dumb, just dickmatized.”

It’s probably a good thing she’s not drinking because shewould have choked. Caroline’s laugh sputters out, grows in volume, and she hasto cover her mouth when it becomes hard to control herself. Her eyes water alittle as she finally manages to stop giggling, “Yeah, I’m totally tellingKlaus that you said that. He’ll take it as a compliment.”

“Literally the only nice thing I’ll ever say about him isthat you’re far more bearable and less uptight than you used to be. I creditthe regular orgasms.”

She and Katherine had been hired at about the same time and,in the beginning, hadn’t gotten along overly well. Kat now headed The MikaelsonGroup’s marketing team, was a wizard at luring in celebs and influencers andmaking their hotels a coveted destination. Caroline had worked her way up torun a design team. It’s how she’d met Klaus (and they’d butted heads too in theearly days) coordinating with him and his architect minions.

“I, too, am a big fan,” Caroline admits. “Though, honestly,you should really give cuddling a try. Totally relaxing.”

“Ew, pass.”

It’s an argument they’ve had before.

“Anyway,” Katherine says, so loudly that Carolineinstinctively glances towards the door. “Back to my story. Greta Martin thinksyou should stop being a total bitch to Klaus in meetings. Oh, and she’s alsoplanning on banging him.”

Caroline sits up, now outraged. “I am not…”

Katherine cuts her off, “You have been a little snippy thisweek.”

Only because Klaus has been baiting her.

“That’s just how we are. He pokes, I prod. He’s annoyinglysmug, all ‘oh, aren’t I the cleverest?’ and I like to knock him down.”

“Verbal foreplay is your thing,” Katherine says, adding aknowing nod.

She throws her hands up, collapsing back again. “Exactly! Mymarriage is freaking great and if that…”

Again, she doesn’t get to work up to a proper rant. Superannoying.

“That’s the best part!” Katherine crows. “She has no ideayou and Klaus are married! Talk about dumb people.”

Well, that’s mollifying. Slightly. Caroline will just haveto make things clear. Plans begin to form. She discards the racier ones (unlessGreta proves to be unwilling to take a hint). She twists her wedding bandabsently, “How has she not noted the rings?”

“Forget the rings. How she hasn’t noted Klaus’ doofybesotted face whenever you walk into a room is the bigger issue. Maybe sheneeds glasses?”

Maybe Caroline will get her assistant to shoot Greta anemail detailing the company’s excellent insurance coverage on Monday.

She hears the bottle clink and she shakes off her mentallists, shooting Katherine a glare. “You know, it would have been easy for youto clear up her misconceptions in that bathroom.”

Kat’s brows rise and she shoots Caroline a look like she’ssaid something totally insane. “And deprive myself of prime workplace drama?Please. You know how bored I get on Wednesdays when I have to sit in those dumblegal meetings.”

Caroline’s displeasure must read on her face because Kattosses her a bright smile, leaning forward and offering the bottle. Her toneturns placating, “Oh, relax, Cupcake. It’s harmless. You’ll probably forget allabout this little snafu over the weekend.”

Caroline’s does have big plans.

“Maybe,” she allows grudgingly. She stands, straighteningher pencil skirt. “Speaking of, I should go home and make myself pretty.”

“You’re going to do that gross airport make out thing, aren’tyou?”

Caroline smiles, not trying to hide the slightly mockingedge to it. “Usually, yeah. But Elijah’s not a guy who tolerates a scene.”

She relishes the freezing of Katherine’s body, the wideningof her dark eyes. Her hand flexes, looking for the bottle that had recentlybeen clutched there.

Caroline withholds it, setting it down and out of reach.

She’s not entirely sure what had gone down at the Christmasparty last year (Katherine was way better at keeping secrets no matter how muchliquor was applied) but she knows Kat’s red lip had been rubbed off and Elijah’svest had been buttoned incorrectly when she and Klaus had met the odd couple atthe elevator bank.

Kat had twitched a little at the mention of Elijah’s nameever since.

She adopts her sweetest expression, “Maybe the legalmeetings will be more exciting when Elijah’s leading them in person, hmm?”

Katherine’s mouth opens. Closes. She wiggles her toes to gether heels back in place before hopping off the desk. “I need to…”

She doesn’t finish her sentence, stalking out of the office.Caroline watches her go, both satisfied and bursting with curiosity. A speechlessKatherine Pierce? Caroline never thought she’d see the day.

She makes a mental note to tell Klaus, to wheedle until heagrees to pump Elijah for info. She didn’t often get bored at work, not whenshe could just pop into Klaus’ office and poke around in his projects. But hehad another trip on his calendar next month.

She won’t turn down a little in office entertainment whilehe’s gone.

[j-exclamationmark-l]

Personal rant

So I found out the hard way about two or three months ago that some phrases trigger some form of PTSD in me from the way I was raised. At least, I think that's what it is. I get filled with this aimless dread, I start seeing memories as clear as day. I start seeing exactly what happened years ago, I can feel myself screaming even though logically I know I'm not actually screaming, it’s just a memory but it's so real, like time doesn't exist and everything is overlapping on itself and I feel like I'm going crazy but I know I'm going crazy, I know none of these things are actually here, and it's like I'm being split in two by the reasonable side of my brain and this pure emotion that's insisting the threat is still right here in front of me.

I started crying at work and asked my coworkers to stop saying it. That was maybe two months ago. It's not even a common phrase - I think people used to say it in the 90s, but until recently, I hadn’t heard anyone say it.

But since I asked, my oldest coworker has kept saying it. I ask her to stop every time and she keeps defending herself. She’s incredibly self-centered, always talks about herself and how awesome she is, brags that she has the most exciting life outside of work (not really? she’s exactly what you’d imagine a white, middle-aged party-girl divorcee to be like), always cuts me off, never remembers things I say, always tries to get me in trouble. She also likes to insinuate that I’m gay by saying frequently that girls with short nails are lesbian (have you ever seen a violinist with long nails?). Her way of asking me to do things is to say “Why am I always the one who has to do this?” I’ve tried being nice to her. I try to listen to her a lot. Once I accidentally said her son was autistic and she began yelling at me that he’s not autistic, he has Asperger’s, so I apologized and asked her what the difference was, since I’d always thought before that Asperger’s was a form of autism. I didn’t fight her on any point she made, I just asked her out of curiosity because I genuinely wanted to know. The next day at work she bragged to the other woman in the office about how she totally schooled me, even though I’d asked.

Friday, everyone in the office was talking about cheesecake, and how Japan’s just doesn’t compare to cheesecake in other countries.

“When my best friend first came to Japan about eight years ago, cheesecake wasn’t really a thing that had caught on,” I said. “So he went to a restaurant and saw ‘hot cheesecake’ on the menu and decided to try it.”

“Gross, cheesecake isn’t supposed to be hot,” this woman cut in. “In Australia--”

“That’s not the story,” I frowned. I’ve been getting more aggressive about her cutting me off. She fought me to begin with, but slowly, other coworkers have started pointing out when she cuts them off, too. “He ordered it, then what was served wasn’t cheesecake at all, but a pancake--”

“That’s not cheesecake,” she interjected. “We were talking about cheesecake--”

“...A pancake. With a slice of processed cheese, like American cheese, on the top.”

“Some cheese could taste really good on sweets, like cream cheese, or--”

“It wasn’t cream cheese, it was a slice of processed cheese, like you buy at the supermarket, the plastic-y ‘torokeru cheese.’“

She began listing off other cheeses that could taste good on a pancake, and I tried to reiterate that that’s not what my friend was served.

Realizing she had nothing else to say to derail the story I thought was kind of funny, she looked me in the eye and said the phrase that she knew triggered me.

At first, I was just really confused. I wasn’t even upset, it was just so weird - not even that she’d say it, but that she’d tried so hard to derail my story. The room went silent, as I’m sure everyone remembers the time I started crying. I made a mental note to tell my friend how hard she’d fought his story. I wondered how weird he’d think that was. I wondered if there were any other details about it he’d share that I’d forgotten; it had been a long time since he’d told me, after all.

I could kind of feel it gnawing at the back of my mind. I knew what she’d said, but I was busy, and if I put on my headphones and went back to work, the flood waters barely sloshed over the top of the dam. If I didn’t process what was behind that wall, if I ignored it...

The minute I was out of work, the minute I was alone, the dam broke and I realized what she’d said, and saw my father looming every time I closed my eyes. I could almost swear he was hiding behind the crowds of people on the train, ready to scream at me. But I knew that was ridiculous, he hates me so much he’d never dare follow me to Japan.

But part of me was certain he was there.

The commute home takes an hour, and for that hour I felt torn, telling myself he wasn’t there and yet somehow convinced he was, and that I was 14 and he was threatening to leave me somewhere and my mother was telling me I was crazy and he was changing the pictures in the frames to not include me or how he dumped all my food down the sink or...

It sounds so stupid now that I write it out. Like a paper tiger. It looks scary, but there’s nothing actually to it.

I got home and drank. I drank more than I thought I could at once, I drank until I passed out.

In the morning, I woke up for long enough to send my coworker a message saying I noticed that she said that phrase and asking her to stop. I passed out again.

I was woken up by her reply. It was long and wordy and filled with phrases like “it’s been ubiquitously ingrained into our lexicon” and how I can’t expect everyone to change their speech patterns just for me. I was so angry that I woke up fully to tell her she’s literally the only person I know who uses that phrase. She then claimed, after her lengthy rebuttal, to have forgotten what the phrase is that upsets me. She also insinuated that nothing I’ve experienced could possibly be anything worse than the shit she’s seen and told me she has more compassion and empathy than anyone else alive, I’m just being an unreasonable little shithead.

So I tried to describe for her what it’s like, being reminded of my dad like that. I know I can’t stop from being reminded of him all the time, but somehow knowing I asked her to stop and seeing her continue to do it makes it worse. I’m not about to tell her that even the word “family” is dangerous territory for me because even I know that’s unreasonable to tell everyone to stop saying that word. But there are things I can do - thinking of my friends as my “family,” thinking of Kiryu’s music as “home.” But that phrase, the one that upsets me, has no actual meaning, and no one even really says it anymore, except for her.

And in the office, I told her, I do what I can. I try to listen to music to block out their conversations most of the time. Yeah, it’s antisocial, but I don’t want another episode and I don’t want to have to force them to change their habits.

But the way she interrupted my story to look me in the eye and say it during one of the few moments I didn’t try to block it out...

She didn’t reply to my message.

I stayed inside for fear of running into her on Sunday (she lives uncomfortably close to me) and I felt sick to my stomach at the idea of seeing her on Monday, but luckily she ignored me yesterday, and today, too.

I wish I could explain it to them, I wish there was a way to let them see instead of seeing it myself all the time. I know they don’t have the attention span to listen, though, and I don’t actually want them knowing that much about me. I just wish they’d understand, I’m not trying to be unreasonable.

I’m in pain and they’d poke me with sticks telling me to “get over it.”

I remember how her friend yelled at me after the first time I broke. She apologized later, but I still don’t trust them. I don’t trust any of them. They lack the imagination to empathize with anything they haven’t experienced firsthand, I think.

I remember friends in high school making jokes about how awful my dad was. I didn’t get it, not really. I mean, I wasn’t happy, but it was normal to me. I didn’t get it until I reached college. And how unfair it was that these people had families that loved and cared for them.

I’ve been having the same nightmare I used to have all the time.

It feels like it will never end.

[btsiguess]

Choices (m) - 1

Summary: You didn’t think that when you woke up this morning you were going to go out and buy a hybrid. But really, ending up with this stupid cat might be the best thing that ever happened to you. Much to both you and Yoongi’s chagrin. 

Pairing: Yoongi/Reader

Genre: Fluff, eventual smut

Word Count: 2859, so just a drabble series guys.

Warnings: Reckless driving!!!

A/Ns: Oh look, another Yoongi fic. Are we surprised? No. And I’m also NOT sorry. Anyway, this idea has been bouncing around my brain for a while and so I just decided to go for it. It’ll just be a drabble series though, so shorter chapters! Because I’m an impatient bitch!!!!

Chapters: 1 2 3

“Honey, I just really don’t like the idea of you living in your own in such a big city!” Your mother chastises you over the phone. “You didn’t even leave home for college, and now this? Moving to Seoul on your own? I understand that this job is important to you but still… I wish you’d be realistic.”

Hard as it was, you try your best to be understanding of your mother’s concerns. It’s true that you’ve never been away from home before, but you aren’t incompetent. It had merely been a matter of money, and nothing more. And now, freshly out of college, you’ve been lucky enough to land a job with one of Seoul’s top marketing firms. You have your parents to thank for giving you the tools you needed to succeed - helping pay for school and even supporting you through unpaid summer internships and grant opportunities - you’re nothing but grateful for that. That’s why you always keep your mouth shut as your mother frets over your well-being, that’s why you bit back your protestations and sighs. It’s all in an effort to spare her feelings.

“Mama,” you finally renege, “you and dad have taught me so well. I’m old enough now, to be on my own. Besides, this is my dream job! I’m making way more money than a recent college graduate ought to be.”

The deep resigned sigh from the other end of the line tells you your mother is out of steam for today.

“What about getting one of those pets?” She suggests finally. “One of those hybrids you know? I’m sure your father and I would feel much more secure if you had a watchdog. And hybrid’s can even phone the police if something happens!”

You laugh quietly at your mother’s words. You suppose you were lucky, at least, that she wasn’t insisting on you finding a boyfriend.

“Mama, you know I don’t have the time for a hybrid. They’re a lot of work…”

“Oh I know sweetie but still it would just make us feel so much better, you’re so far away.”

Biting your lip, you glance at your watch. If you don’t wrap up this conversation soon, you are absolutely going to be late for work. And at only a few weeks into this new job, that’s something you simply can’t afford.

“Aish, alright mom, I’ll at least consider it.” You placate her. “But as of right now, I’ll have to let you go. I don’t want to be late for work!”

You bid your mother farewell and agree to talk at the same time the next day. She seems pacified by your promise to think over her request, and thus the end of the conversation goes quickly and smoothly. Soon you find yourself stepping out of your car, and striding inside the large building that houses your corporate offices.

You like your job, you truly do, but Monday’s are always the hardest. Not because it’s the start of a new week or anything, but just because every Monday your floor had a little team building meeting. One where you had to participate and talk to your fellow coworkers. It was mostly fine, but there were one or two people you could do without. Namely…

“I just didn’t know what else to do!” ahh, yes. Soojung.

Your absolute least favorite human being in this entire fucking office.

“He was a monster, I swear.” She’s seated at the large conference room table, a large gaggle of girls standing around her, listening to her speak.

“All he did was bite me and scratch me up whenever I went near him! I feel bad, you know? I’m apparently the third person to give him up! The shelter says they have no option but to put him down.” The girls around her nod in understanding.

“I know there are some hybrid shelters that are no-kill, but I just couldn’t stand to have him around for one second more!”

Holy shit, did she just say that the hybrid shelter was going to put someone down? Like… a genuine living, speaking, near-human hybrid?

What the fuck.

“Soojung,” you interrupt, and the entire group of girls looks at you in surprise. “Where did you say you dropped your hybrid off?”

And that’s how you found yourself standing at the front of a hybrid shelter as soon as your shift had come to a close. There was no way in fucking hell that you could just let some hybrid be murdered. Seriously. What the fuck? Still though, you eye the door somewhat apprehensively. You know you don’t exactly have what it takes to be the owner of a hybrid, but still… anything has to be better than being dead right? Right?

You draw a deep sigh and make your way inside. A small, plump woman greets you as you walk in and you do your best to swallow your nerves and smile at her.

“What can I do for you today, sweetie?” She coos, and you instantly feel uncomfortable. This is definitely a mistake, but you can’t bring yourself to leave. A literal life is on the line here.

“Actually, I just overheard some of my coworkers talking today. About how much they love their hybrids. I’m thinking about adopting one?”

“Well, you’ve absolutely come to the right place! Let me show you our--”

“Actually, I was wondering if you… well I read online that you guys are a, you know, a kill shelter,” the woman winces at your words, “and I was just wondering if you have any… I mean, like any hopeless cases. I just really would hate to see a hybrid put down you know? When I could provide them a good home.”

The woman’s face pinches up in a wholly unattractive way. As if your claims had personally offended her.

“There’s one, but you don’t want him.” she says.

“I mean, I think I can decide that for myself, no?” Is your curt reply.

The woman shrugs angrily, and steps out from behind her desk.

“Fine then. Follow me.”

She leads you through the showroom of animals, and you do your best not to look at anything but your feet. You don’t want to be persuaded into getting more than one hybrid, you’re a sucker for puppy dog eyes, and here they have them, well… literally.

Soon enough you’re brought into a back room, it seems to be for employees only, and your stomach quickly turns by what you see there.

A dark hybrid cat. Locked in a cage much too small for him. His hands are bruised and bloodied, as if he had tried - unsuccessfully - to fight his way out of his current predicament. He’s curled up in what looks like restless sleep, but as soon as you enter his eyes shoot open.

“This is him.” The woman tells you simply.

“Great,” you gesture to the cat before you, “I would like this hybrid, please and thank you.”

The woman gapes at you.

“You don’t even want to speak with him first?”

Your eyes shift briefly to the caged man, watching the way he follows your every move. There’s a small flicker of hope in the cat’s eyes, and so you shake your head.

“No, I don’t think that will be necessary. He seems perfect. Exactly what I’m looking for.”

She gives you a scowl before motioning for you to follow her back to the front. There’s way more paperwork than you thought there would be. And it’s over an hour later when another employee finally brings out the hybrid to you.

“No one likes a girl with a saviour complex you know.” The woman mutters towards you and you flinch slightly when another worker cheerily tells you to enjoy ‘your’ new hybrid. Your discomfort only grows when you see the cats eyes flash with anger.

It’s only later, when you and the cat are finally sitting in your car, that you realize what you’ve done.

“Oh my fucking god. What the fuck.” You mutter, glancing at the literal cat person next to you.

He gazes back, a look of uninterested confusion on his face.

“Why are you acting like this, human?” He says finally, and the low timbre of his voice takes you by surprise.

“What?” is the only thing you can think to say.

“You’re being annoying. Why are you being annoying?”

“Sorry.” You snap at him, sarcasm dripping from your voice. “When I woke up this morning I didn’t realize I was going to become responsible for another person’s wellbeing, thanks. Color me a little overwhelmed.”

The cat before you pauses slightly for a moment, his head tilting to the side, ears twitching. He says nothing for a while, and you grow more and more antsy with every passing second. What was this cat playing at, seriously?

“What?!” You finally lose your temper, but the cat merely smirks at you slightly, as if your outburst was exactly what he had wanted.

“You called me ‘person’ you know.” He says.

“Well aren’t you?” You try to collect yourself as you pull out of the parking lot.

“Not in the eyes of the law.”

Oh shit.

“Seem like a person to me.” You mutter under your breath. “Bitchy like a person.”

The cat scoffs.

“You passed the pet store.” He says, in lieu of replying.

“Why would I need to go to the pet store?”

The cat looks at you, incredulous before starting off.

“A collar? A leash? Fucking food? You aren’t put together in the slightest, there’s no way you have all that shit at home.”

You’re offended, but only because he’s right. You screech your car around in a dangerous U-turn while the cat beside you hisses and digs his claws into the fabric of your seat, tearing up some of the padding.

“What the FUCK are you doing?” The hybrid yells. “Are you trying to kill us?”

You pull calmly into the pet store, satisfied by the way you’ve worked the cat up.

“Mmm, not today. Let’s go.” You say, opening the car door. Again you’re greeted with a dubious look from your new companion.

“I can’t go in there without a leash and a collar.” He says finally.

“Oh geez.” You mumble. “I’m so not prepared for this and I’m going to kill us both.”

“Reassuring.”

“Shut up, cat.” You snipe. “If I leave you here for like, two seconds will you be okay? I’ll run in and get a leash and collar so you can come in too and pick out what you want.”

The cat looks surprised but nods.

You crank the window down and motion for him to do the same. He doesn’t.

You roll your eyes and begin to walk away from the car anyway. Whatever. Let him suffocate. Whatever.

Suddenly a thought occurs to you and you spin quickly on your heels, leaning down to peer through the window of the car.

“What color?” You ask, and the cat tilts his head, his dark feline ears twitching once more.

“What?”

“Like, what color leash and collar do you want? Any requests?”

The cat ponders for a moment, and you’re unsure whether he’s mulling over the question or the fact you’ve bothered to get his opinion in the first place.

“Black.” He says finally. “Leather, if they have it. Oh, and I’m a medium.”

You nod and give the cat a small thumbs up before hurrying inside. You’re not sure you trust your new companion in the car by himself, and so you try to work quickly. You locate the collars and leashes with relative ease, and try your best to pick out one that the cat waiting for you would like.

It’s no more than five minutes before you’re outside the shop again, and the cat merely shrugs at your choices for him. You’re a bit disheartened, but you try not to let it show too much. He’s supposed to be a problem cat or whatever. It is what it is.

He gets out of the car and stands before you. You’re a bit surprised at how tall the hybrid is. And it would take a fool not to notice how handsome, as well. You hope your cheeks don’t go as red as they feel, but when the cat raises his eyebrow at you, you know you’ve been caught.

“Here.” You say, holding out his collar and hoping he will accept the change of subject.

He takes it and quickly fastens it around his neck. It fits perfectly, and you notice that the cat gives a satisfied hum as he glances at his reflection in your car’s side mirror.

“S-Sorry.” You mutter as you hold out the leash to clip it onto his collar. Something about this feels so incredibly wrong, and it twists your gut. Your hands shake slightly as you try and attach the leash, your fingers coming in contact with the skin of the cat’s throat. The touch alarms the both of you, but neither of you elect to mention it directly.

“It’s fine. Rules are rules.” The hybrid tells you, gazing down at you. It’s an oddly intimate moment, and suddenly you step back, hoping to distance yourself from the man - the hybrid in front of you.

“Right.” You say, too loudly. “Let’s go.”

Despite you being the one with the leash, the cat is definitely leading. You let him. He knows more about this than you do.

“Here.” He says, stopping in front of a bright yellow machine. “You need to make me a dog tag.”

“A cat tag.” You mumble, earning a disinterested glance from the cat.

“Just hurry and make one. I’m not supposed to be going around without it.”

“Okay well… What type do you like? Just pick whatever.”

The cat hesitates once more, eyes trailing over the rack. He eventually selects a simple silver circle, and you nod your head in agreement. It would look absolutely gorgeous against the cat’s beautifully tan skin.

You place the tag into the machine, jumping slightly as it whirs to life, your action making the hybrid shake his head.

You dutifully follow the directions, typing in your address and apartment number and your telephone, lest the cat get lost and needs to be returned. You pause however when the final question appears:

What’s your companion’s name?

Oh fuck. You didn’t even know his name. You fucking suck.

“I’m sorry,” you start, glancing at him, “but I don’t know your name.”

The cat looks surprised, but not angry like you were expecting.

“What do you mean?” He questions. “You pick it.”

Your face must betray how horrified you are because his ears twitch at you, something you’re beginning to learn means he thinks you’re acting in an unexpected way.

“No, that’s too much.” You say finally. “You’re like, a whole adult man. You can pick your fucking name.”

The cat is still for a moment, as if he’s expecting you to laugh and take the opportunity away.

“I’m serious.” You reassure. “If you don’t pick, I’ll write something embarrassing. You look like a ‘Fuzzball’ to me.”

The cat moves faster than you’ve ever seen him.

You peek over his shoulder as he types in his name and then hits the ‘print’ button before you can change your mind. It’s with utter fascination that the two of you watch the laser etch out a beautiful looking ‘Yoongi’ onto the dainty tag.

“Yoongi?” you say, rolling the name over your tongue. “That’s a really beautiful name.  It really suits you.”

“Thanks.” Is his only response, as he scuffs his shoe along the ground.

You clip the little tag to his collar with some difficulty, but Yoongi doesn’t complain. He simply watches you there before him, eyeing interestedly the way your tongue peeks out of the corner of your mouth in concentration.

After that, Yoongi seems to be in higher spirits, carefully piling his wants and needs into your cart. You feel a little desperate, watching the price tag increase in your mind’s eye, but you know you have enough saved away, and seeing Yoongi look… well, as close to happy as you imagine he can get is enough of a reward for the hit your wallet is about to receive.

When you push you your carriage into the bedding section you watch Yoongi shrug and shake his head.

“I don’t need one of these.” He says to you, firmly.

“Oh? Why not? Do you prefer sleeping on the floor or something?” You puzzle.

The cat laughs for the first time since you’ve gotten him. A wide genuine laugh that pulls at the edge of his lips and makes him smile - really smile - for the first time. Your heart skips a beat in your chest.

“No.” He says, eyeing you. “I want to sleep in your bed. With you.”

You think you might pass out.

“Excuse me?” you choke out, weakly.

“Oh you know me,” he says, practically reveling in your surprise, “I’m a real big cuddler.”

With that, Yoongi winks and walks away. Leaving you to pick up your broken pieces all alone.

A/N: And there you go, have more garbage. Whatevs. @gimmesumsuga!!! You haven’t read this one yet because I wrote it in 20 minutes before I went to bed lol.

[needlekind]

the california asshole sounds interesting

THE CALIFORNIA ASSHOLE, that’s my new band name

all names here except mine have been changed but: let’s talk about cathy

cathy and i were promoted to claire’s’s sister store, the icing, at the same time, a few months before the holiday season started—that was the instance where literally everyone in that store quit, another, briefer story; she was the manager, i was the assistant manager. i was nineteen at the time and she was only a few years older than i was

because literally everyone in the store had quit there was a rough month or so immediately after our hiring where we were each regularly pulling doubles so the other could have a day off. eventually we hired lisa, whom i absolutely adored, but only for a couple of days a week because this was a second job to her

at first cathy and i seemed like we were going to be an absolute dream team, high energy and excited about the store and being in charge with it, but ultimately there was not a lot of love lost between us. she was kind of a control freak and would get huffy if i made decisions without her (which happened pretty often, because i was regularly working 50+ hour weeks and was very often alone in the store, sometimes for the entire day!), and she especially hated if i did planogram—when corporate gives you some pictures and diagrams of how your store fixtures and walls are supposed to look and you go “our walls are way taller than this. we don’t even have that product. we don’t even have that many fixtures and most of them have four sides instead of six” and make it look appealing with what you DO have—on my own. she was the kind of person who talked about how her bluntness made her honest and a person other people could trust and rely on while making it incredibly clear that she thought i was totally incompetent when it came to store design and planogram and similar (credit where it’s due; she spoke highly of my sales skills). for a long time, we kept talking about having a manager from a different store come in and do some training with the both of us so she would shut the fuck up, because she wouldn’t train me herself, she just complained about how everything i did was wrong without specifying, so much so that i was impossible for her to train, she didn’t know where to begin, i was just that bad at it

somewhere along the line we also hired shannon, whom i ALSO absolutely ADORED, and she worked shifts between claire’s and our sister store. she was an old friend of cathy’s and therefore got a huge chunk of our allocated hours each week since cathy wrote the schedules, even as lisa’s availability opened up. like i said, i LOVED shannon, she was great, but lisa had an amazing eye for planogram (when she quit it was because her other job offered her a management position designing planograms SO, LIKE, UNPARALLELED COMPARED TO ALL HER COWORKERS INCLUDING HER MANAGERS). planogram season came again and cathy and i got into a fight at one point because i tried expressing that, if cathy thought i was so garbage at planogram then lisa should be getting more hours so she could do it because she was so good at it, and cathy got mad at me for “attacking” her while fervently denying she was showing any favoritism. regardless.

a sidebar: before the holiday season (and i mean the retail holdiay season, not november/december when people actually start celebrating holidays), our stores were dead because we lived in a tourist trap island kind of place, so winter and fall were unbearable no matter where you went. so, when cathy and i’s shifts overlapped, we would just waste time talking about all kinds of things while marking product or organizing signage up front in between customers. one time we ended up in a political discussion where she, a staunch conservative, eventually made a point about how she thought people who couldn’t talk politics without getting emotional were immature, and that it should be completely acceptable idle talk and dinnertime conversation, and that friends could and should have completely opposite political views (this was all before the november 2016 election). she tried to backtrack when i made a point about how i, a lesbian (this being the first i told her this) would never under any circumstances choose to associate with anyone against same-sex marriage (which the supreme court hadn’t ruled in favor yet), and i knew. i could see in her eyes that she was a raging homophobe but wasn’t ready to admit it because christ, we lived in massachusetts, that was a hell of a way to get fired from your job for discrimination.

but i knew she was so uncomfortable because when i said “i would never, ever associate with anyone who was opposed to same-sex marriage, and i probably don’t want to have a discussion with them about it either” i was talking about her. i pushed the point as hard as possible for as long as possible, on purpose, until she dropped the whole conversation.

she never talked politics with me again.

anyway. a few months later my mother died—i hated her and she deserved it, and we weren’t in touch, but i was the next of kin, so i had to do all sorts of legal garbage. claire’s offered three paid days off for bereavement in the event that an immediate relative died; i took mine in the middle of the week adjacent to some pre-scheduled days off so i would have time to travel back and forth and decompress. these days off overlapped with a pre-scheduled visit from a manager elsewhere in the state, whose icing store was converting to a claire’s, so we kept getting their icing product. she was going to bring us some product and help train us in planogram, since she’d been managing that store for, like, a decade—but i was going to miss her visit because of my bereavement leave.

cathy was pissed. she didn’t say so to me, even though i did get a couple “are you suuuure”s (wherever possible, she made the manager at claire’s talk to me if she had a problem with me that wasn’t just vague complaining about how much i sucked; 99% of the time these were baseless and the claire’s manager would mention it offhand like three days later like “cathy was freaking out about x before” “oh yeah” “yeah. i told her to shut the fuck up it’s not a big deal” “nice”). she did call our district manager (who told me about this conversation well after the fact, complaining about cathy’s complaints about me) to complain that i was going to be taking some time off. because my mother died.

like. i did not communicate to my coworkers what my relationship with my mother was like. here’s what cathy knew and was complaining about: i was taking some days off because my mother died. and it was inconvenient for her.

jesus christ.

another month or so goes by, iirc; cathy has another meltdown about planogram after i stay five hours past my shift trying to set up an entire store wall alone and eventually call her and ask if i can just go home and give up and a visiting manager opens with cathy the next morning. the visiting manager said i did a completely fine job and pointed out one specific thing she would rather i didn’t do anymore. cathy told me, in as many words, that everything was trash. nothing comes of this, because she is wrong.

cathy takes a scheduled week-long vacation to see family in california in the middle of the month. she leaves on sunday. she’s been talking about this for a while, she’s scheduled to come back not the next day but the monday after.

on tuesday, my day off, i receive a call in the evening from the manager at claire’s. “what’s going on?” i ask

“cathy quit” she tells me. “she’s staying in california”

“……………..oh”

“yeah. thought you’d want to know. we’ll talk about the schedule when you’re in again on thursday”

“oh. okay. great! ……what”

we never heard from her again

[soitmightgetweird]

Secret Santa

Steve Rogers x reader

Summary & A/N: This was part of @caplansteverogers Christmas Challenge -- my prompt was "they did secret Santa at work and I got you and I have no idea what to get you so I’m pretending that I’m not stalking you when I am and I learn all these cute things about you." So here it is!

Warnings: mild embarrassment? 

Word Count: 2912

December 15, 2017

To: ALL

Good afternoon everyone!

Just a couple reminders: First, we are planning to close up by 2PM on the 22nd to give everyone time to prepare for the company party that night. Second, it's the last day to pick names for Secret Santa, so stop by the front desk before the end of the day to choose your person! The gift limit is $30.

Let's have some fun and finish the year strong!

-Pepper Potts, VP

You closed the email with a groan. Secret Santa gift exchanges were the worst. Okay so that was an exaggeration, but you always put unnecessary amounts of stress on yourself trying to think of the Perfect Gift. And even after the stress and wracking your brain, you still sometimes missed the mark.

Your noise of displeasure caused your desk-neighbor to stand up and peer at you over the divider between your work stations. She propped her arms up, pouting at you when you turned your chair to face her. "Are you already being a Scrooge?"

You rolled your eyes. "I suck at giving gifts, Wanda."

"You do not."

"Socks." The single-word reply came from the desk on your other side, and you groaned again.

"Nat, you said your cat kept destroying yours!" you defended.

The sound of a rolling chair preceded the appearance of your other neighbor as she peered around the partition to you. "I can buy my own socks, sweetie."

"And so I stand by my statement! I struggle enough with what to get the two of you, and now I have to buy something for some random person here that I probably know little to nothing about."

"Gift cards are always a good default," Nat said.

"But they're so impersonal!"

"Well it's either impersonal or lame."

A small paper ball flew at Nat before Wanda spoke again. "If time is running out and you really cannot think of anything, I'll help you out."

"I'm sure I'll need it," you mumbled, turning back to your computer to resume your work.

When the end of the day arrived, the three of you gathered your things and passed by the front desk to grab your Secret Santa names before leaving to start the weekend. You let your friends pick first, while you silently hoped you'd choose someone you at least knew a little. When it was finally your turn to reach into the bag, you held your breath as you grabbed a slip of paper and pulled it out to read the name.

Your face heated up as you saw the name staring back at you. Of course. Of course he was the person you chose. He was at job sites more than in the office, but he always managed to stop by and say hello when he passed through, and you always managed to stumble over your words in return. The only saving grace was that he never drew attention to it--so either he was a complete saint and wanted to save you the embarrassment or he was just completely clueless that he had that effect on you.

You were so lost in your thoughts that it took you a while to realize your friends were saying your name.

"Don't leave us hanging. Who'd you pick?" Nat asked with a smirk, as if she just knew this was going to be interesting.

Your voice sounded much quieter than you'd intended it to when you answered. "Steve Rogers."

Nat couldn't hold back the laugh that tumbled from her lips after your answer. "Oh, that's perfect!"

"Why do you enjoy my pain?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Wanda said as she draped an arm over your shoulders. "It is perfect. If he likes your gift, you can reveal it's from you. Maybe it'll start up a conversation."

You scoffed. "That's a pretty big 'if' though. I hardly know anything about him besides the fact that he's unnecessarily attractive and that my brain goes on vacation when I have to talk to him!"

"You could ask someone in his department? He's been friends with Wilson and Barnes for years," Nat offered.

"I'm not giving Sam more reasons to pick on me."

Wanda hummed. "Everyone's on Facebook--maybe try that?"

When your only response was a sigh, Wanda tightened her arm around you and Nat linked her left arm through your right one. "Operation: Tall, Blond, and Handsome is officially underway."

You whipped your head sideways to look at the smiling redhead next to you. "Natasha, we are not calling it that."

"Oh, we so are. Your mission for the weekend, should you choose to accept, is to brainstorm. Think of what you know about him, make a list, and we'll reconvene on Monday."

The weekend passed quickly and you still had exactly no idea what you could get Steve. You were hoping your friends would give you a break with the teasing, and you'd successfully avoided talking to them about it until you went to get a refill of coffee and they cornered you in the break room.

"So, what did your research tell you?" Nat asked, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl.

"Basically that I'm doomed. Wanna trade names?"

"No way, my person's super easy to shop for."

A soft chuckle sounded from Wanda as she watched the two of you. "Why are you doomed?"

"His Facebook is very professional."

Nat raised an eyebrow. "What does that mean?"

You made a vague motion with your hands, almost spilling the coffee you'd just poured. After a small huff, you placed the mug on the counter and crossed your arms. "There's not really anything there outside of some nice pictures of him with his work team. The few statuses he posts talk about projects he's working on."

"What about Instagram?" Wanda offered.

"I don't think I can do this; I'm just gonna get him a gift card."

"Oh no," Nat said with a shake of her head. "You're not doing that. You've been drooling over that man for months so now you have a chance to shower him in affection and you are going to do so."

Your head shook in disagreement. "It's not gonna play out like that! I'm gonna think for hours and be convinced I've got a winner but later I'll find out it was the worst gift ever and he'll just end up thinking I'm the lamest person on Earth."

"Aw, no one in their right mind would think you're lame," a new, deeper voice sounded from behind you.

There was no time to stop the surprised squeak you made as you turned toward the new arrival. "Steve!"

He chuckled as he made his way over to where you and your friends were standing. "Didn't mean to scare you."

Once the initial shock of his sudden appearance wore off, you felt a slight panic as you wondered if he'd heard any other parts of your conversation. When all he offered was a kind smile before turning his attention to the coffee maker, you guessed you were in the clear.

And of course, your mind decided to take a break too, so you just stood there in silence instead of making conversation like a normal person.

When he turned back toward you, a small crease formed on his forehead, accompanied by a look of slight concern. "Are you alright?"

"Huh?" Hello, brain! Get with the program! "Oh! Sorry, I guess the caffeine hasn't kicked in yet?"

"Party too hard this weekend?" he asked with a wink.

"Oh yeah, my dog and I are real party animals," you replied, your cheeks warming a bit as you blushed. "I mean, well, literally for her but... y'know, whatever."

Steve's eyes lit up. "You have a dog?"

"I--yeah, I bought a puppy a few months ago."

"That's awesome! I've got a puppy too, maybe we could--"

"Sorry to interrupt," another new voice said from the entrance to the break room. You looked over to see Bucky, his attention on Steve and an apologetic look on his face. "The truck's loaded up."

You looked back at Steve in time to catch the slight shake of his head. "Duty calls. It was nice chatting for a minute. See you ladies around."

You didn't even realize your coworkers were still there. When you turned to face them, Wanda and Nat both had matching, wide smiles on their faces.

"Were you both just standing there awkwardly while I stumbled through a conversation?"

Natasha giggled as she went to leave the room. "Oh, you've got it bad; we were talking the whole time and you didn't even notice."

Your eyes widened as Wanda grabbed your cup from the counter and handed it to you. "You did not stumble; you were fine. That is progress."

The television played Home Alone quietly in the background as you sat curled up on your couch with a glass of wine and your puppy. You'd had a goofy little smile on your face ever since you saw Steve that morning, one that Nat and Wanda were quick to point out at various parts of the day.

Feeling a new surge of motivation, you grabbed your phone and opened the Instagram app, grinning again as you found his profile. Then you almost dropped your phone when you started scrolling through pictures.

Was it actually possible to drool over this guy more than you already did?

You thought he looked good at work in his dark jeans and nice shirts, but he looked even better in all the candid and casual pictures. He favored tighter-fitting t-shirts--which you were not complaining about in the slightest. You already knew he was built, but the shorter sleeves gave you an unobstructed view of biceps and holy shit, did he have nice arms.

Then there was his puppy--an adorable, fluffy mutt named Ace. So that was discovery number two, you really dug a guy who loved his dog.

There were pictures of paintings he'd created, medals for races he'd run, a picture of the chaos that was his sketchpad, and more...

You let out a huff as you tapped your phone off and tossed it onto the coffee table. This exercise was supposed to help you learn more about him so you could figure out an awesome gift. Instead you were just falling for him more.

"Thanks for the Instagram tip," you said to Wanda the next morning.

She looked up from her computer screen and smiled. "So did you think of something?"

"Um... well, no? Not really. I just creeped on him like a dork."

"Don't be silly. What did you learn?"

You thought for a moment, sorting through what you remembered of the pictures you saw. "It's unfair how adorable he is?"

When Wanda simply titled her head and smirked, you continued.

"He's artistic; he paints and draws and he's amazing at it. His puppy is super cute and he likes to take him to parks where he can run around. He goes to breweries. He runs in half marathons with Bucky and Sam. He--oh! I got it!"

"I'm so proud of you," Nat said, making her way to the two of you as she walked into the room.

"He posted a picture of his headphones’ cord that always gets really tangled. How about wireless earbuds?"

Nat wiped an imaginary tear from her eye and smiled. "Wanda, they grow up so fast!"

Friday was a whirlwind of a day. You went into work a little earlier than normal, a small box covered in metallic green wrapping paper hidden inside your purse. After making sure no one was around Steve's desk, you walked over and placed the box in his chair before leaving the room again.

As you walked back to your desk, you wondered if he'd like it. Would he try to guess who it's from? It sat in the forefront of your mind for about an hour until you distracted yourself with work and before you knew it, Wanda and Nat were pulling you away from your desk so you could all leave to prepare for the party.

"Stop worrying; you look hot," Nat said from her position on your left as the three of you walked into the conference center where the party was taking place.

Back home, you'd been standing in front of the mirror for twenty minutes making minor tweaks to your hair and makeup, and trying to convince yourself that the dress you chose looked alright. You rolled your eyes as you looked over at her. "I look like I'm trying too hard."

"You do not. Don't be ridiculous," Wanda chimed in from your other side.

While there was still a bit of doubt that lingered over your attire, you honestly couldn't have asked for better coworkers and friends. They were always there to reassure you when your uncertainty surfaced, and they were always genuine with their compliments. So you decided to try to push that thought deep down and hide it away so you could enjoy the party.

The room was gorgeous--twinkling white lights hung from the ceiling and gave the room a soft but beautiful glow. There were tables along one length of the room, covered in white tablecloths and red accent pieces. The center of the room was open as a dance floor and some of your other coworkers were already out there enjoying themselves.

As soon as you'd placed your clutch and phone on one of the vacant tables, Wanda said she was going to get drinks and wandered off toward the open bar. A few moments later, Bucky was standing next to the table, asking Nat to dance. She stalled at first, casting a hesitant look in your direction, until you practically shooed her away.

You were only alone for a couple more minutes before a drink was placed on the table in front of you.

Thankful you weren't alone anymore, you released a happy sigh and reached for the alcohol. "Thanks, babe. You haven't by chance seen--Steve!" you gasped as he sat down in the seat Nat had been in moments before.

"Babe, huh?" Steve said, an amused smirk on his face.

"I, oh um, I thought you were Wanda," you mumbled.

He chuckled quietly. "I might've intercepted her on her way back. You look beautiful, by the way."

"Well, thank you." You felt your cheeks grow warm as you tried to fight the urge to look away. "You look pretty good yourself, Rogers." After a quick glance back at your drink, you raised your head to look him over--he was handsome as ever in his black pants, white shirt, and black tie. And wait, was he actually blushing too?

He cleared his throat and straightened up in the seat. "So, did you get anything good from your Secret Santa?"

"I did. It's probably the softest blanket I've ever touched in my life," you said with a smile. You wondered if this was his way of hinting that he'd figured out that you were the one who left the gift on his desk. Guess there was only one way to know for sure. "Did you?"

"Yeah, some pretty nice wireless headphones. I was getting really tired of untangling my old ones and the cord gets really annoying when I'm jogging so they're perfect."

"Well that's good to hear."

"Any idea who gave you the blanket?"

"Not a clue. Someone who knows I like naps?" you replied with a quiet laugh. "Do you know who gave you the headphones?"

He looked away for a brief moment, as if in thought, before he answered. "Could've been Bucky. God knows he's heard me complain about the tangled cords countless times. Maybe it was Banner, because he has some that are similar and I was asking about them a couple weeks ago. Or this girl in accounting who always strikes up conversations when she sees me."

"Maybe..." You wanted to chastise yourself for actually sounding a little bummed as he guessed about the gift-giver.

"But I'm actually pretty sure it was the cute girl in the marketing department that sits at the corner desk between Wanda and Natasha."

Your head snapped up to look at Steve, and there was that amused grin on his face again. "What?"

"Sam said he saw you walking away from our desks this morning. And a few days ago, you might've liked a really random Instagram post from a couple months ago... a picture of my old headphones in a tangled mess after I pulled them out of my pocket."

Your hands flew up to cover your face, muffling your words when you spoke again. "Oh man, I'm a dork."

Steve laughed and reached toward you, gently pulling your hands away from your face. "It's not such a bad thing to find out the girl you like is stalking your social media accounts."

"Oh my God, Steve that is not helping," you said, but the laugh that bubbled out of you took some of your embarrassment with it.

"Thanks for the headphones, doll," he said softly and it was then you noticed he was still holding onto your hands. "There's a cute little café down the street that's open late, would you want to stop by for coffee after the party wraps up?"

Wow, your friends were right--picking his name was a perfect way to start up a conversation. They were never going to let you live that down.

"I'd love to." 

Tags [are open]: @sebstanchrisevanchickforever19 @scarlettsoldier @feelmyroarrrr @shakzer00 @pixierox101 @chrevastan

[lady-snavely]

Sands of Time: Part Four

Put Your Foot in Your Mouth

Pairing: Kuroo Tetsuro x Fem!OC

Warnings: mentions of death, swearing, mutual pining, all the fluff

Two days later Jade had a note taped to her work locker. Kiyoko had called and asked that Jade please please please call her as soon as she was in. Concern etched across her face, Jade hurried out to her coworker. "Margaret, do you know if Kiyoko said anything in regards to what she needed?"

"Something about the study group tonight I assume. I didn't take the call, Denise did." The older woman replied without turning from her monitor. "Can you run to the supply room and grab more paper for the printers?"

"Yeah, sure thing." With a small shake of her head Jade took the portable and called Kiyoko as she began her shift.

"Shimizu." The answer was swift, to the point and professional.

"Kiyoko, this is Jade from the library. I had a message that you needed to speak with me. Is everything okay?"

“Yes, everything is good, thank you for calling me back so quickly."

Jade listened as she picked through the supply room carefully. For as organized as the shelves on the floor were the supply room drove her a bit crazy with as haphazardly things were quite literally just tossed inside. One of these days, she vowed, she would get the room organized.

"All ten of you?" Jade paused her search as she thought. Did they have anything else going on this evening? No, no group readings or reservations in the meeting rooms. No other study groups, it was Friday after all, most other students would be going home for the weekend or going out to parties. Finally, Jade nodded into the receiver. "That won't be a problem, Kiyoko. I'll prepare a meeting room for you as well so you can all work in peace and at the same table. How does that sound?"

"You're sure? We all aren't out of classes at the same time so some will be trickling in later than others."

"Don't worry about it," Jade reassured. "I'll take care of everything."

True to her word, when the first wave of students arrived a handful of hours later, Jade escorted them to the room she'd prepared. Inside she had an assortment of drinks and snacks as well as extra pens and notepads ready for them. Kiyoko had mentioned a longer session tonight, so why not? There were even a few books scattered around the table.

Kiyoko gave her a grateful smile but said nothing as she circled the table, glancing at the available titles as she went. After the third book she turned a frown towards the group still by the door.

"Midterms are around the corner so I pulled some of the more fact dense and helpful material for your respective fields of study," Jade explained when she saw the look.

"You remember each of our programs?" Iwaizumi cocked an inquisitive brow at her.

"Now, now, Iwa-chan," Oikawa scolded lightly. He even went so far as to pat Jade on the head like a dog who performed a trick correctly. "Be nice to the girl."

"I am nice," Iwaizumi snapped. The two bickered like an old married couple on occasion but deep down everyone, Jade included, could see that they cared greatly for each other.

"It makes sense if you think about it," Yaku said as he settled himself into a chair. "We've been coming here regularly for a year. Clearly Jade was being observant and thoughtful."

Iwaizumi grumbled incoherently but nodded his thanks to Jade as Oikawa dragged him through the room.

"Thank you for the kind words Yaku. You know where to find me if you need anything at all." Jade was quick to duck out of the room before anything else could be said.

Over the course of the next hour and a half most of the remaining students showed up and were guided back to the meeting room. Each was just as surprised as the last by the books already in the room. Each thanked Jade profusely for her thoughtfulness.

She was just coming back from showing Akaashi and Bokuto the room and awkwardly accepting their thanks when Kuroo and Kenma entered the library.

"You're actually going to study with us, right?" Kuroo wondered with a glance at his friend.

"I guess," Kenma replied, though his tone held no commitment. "I feel pretty confident about my grades though."

"And yet you're here," Kuroo smirked. "Why won't you admit that you like hanging out with everyone?"

"Because I don't."

"Do too."

"Do not."

"Please, not again," Jade stopped the friendly banter before it could go any further. Nonetheless she smiled and beckoned them to follow when the boys turned their attention on her. "Come on, everyone else is already here."

"It's not Monday, is it?" Kuroo asked without moving. A frown soured his face.

"No," Jade dragged the word out in mild confusion. "It's definitely Friday and I would appreciate you not try to make the week longer than it already needs to be. Hello Kenma."

"Hey." He didn't even look up from his phone, but Jade had expected that. She watched him for a moment with a small smile before looking up at Kuroo again.

"Why would you think it's Monday anyway?"

"You always dress up on Monday's," he replied with a shrug. "Got a hot date tonight or something?"

Jade was not amused. "Would it matter if I did?"

Kuroo frowned. "Don't be like that, we know each other well enough, wouldn't you say?"

"Not at all," Jade replied a bit too quickly.

"Enlighten me," Kuroo suggested, "why'd you dress up?"

"It's not like I'm even all that dressed up." Jade glanced down at herself in an outfit that wasn't simply jeans and a blouse like usual.

Kuroo continued to frown down at her. After a moment of silence she huffed and rolled her eyes. "Listen, I need to restock returns," Jade gestured over her shoulder, "the others are in the first meeting room down that way."

"You're an idiot," Kenma said after Jade had left them.

"Hey, I noticed she was dressed differently from usual, didn't I?" Why was he getting defensive?

"You could've just complimented her outfit then. Or even asked her if it was a special occasion instead of assuming she only dressed up because she had a date."

"I bet she does have a date."

"That's – you're an idiot." Kenma repeated. He lightened the insult by smiling faintly as his friend.

"Am not," Kuroo huffed, pretending to be more offended than he truly was. He even went so far as to cross his arms and turn his head away.

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Are you two going to join us sometime today?" Having poked his head out of the room at the sound of their voices it was Akaashi who saved Kuroo and Kenma from each other. Just as Oikawa and Iwaizumi had their senseless bickering so did Kuroo and Kenma. Both stemming from decades of friendship and an understanding of one another that only those sort of friendships came with.

She restocked books with an angry sort of gusto that befitted her mood. How dare he assume she only dressed up today because she had a date! Maybe she decided to doll herself up for fun or, you know, just for shits and giggles. And damn him for being right too! Jade's first date in far too long and, if she were being honest with herself, she only got the date because Nyra annoyingly set up a profile on some stupid dating app without her knowledge.

Regardless of her annoyance with Nyra and now with Kuroo, Jade was both excited and incredibly nervous about tonight. A well and true blind date that she'd only been told about this morning and details were still coming in by the hour from her sister. What if the guy was a total weirdo or a creep? What if he wasn't a Tree Nymph, but really one of the dark Fae that her father had warned her from a young age to stay away from? Tonight would go one of two ways; either very well and Jade would agree to a second date or utterly disastrous. Should the latter come to fruition, Jade had already decided that her parents would lose a child.

Jade wasn't asking for Prince Charming. No, she didn't want Mr. Perfect. She didn't even want a knight in shining armor. She didn't need saving. She could slay any of her demons on her own. What she wanted was a partner in crime. She wanted insecurities and flaws. She yearned for intellectual conversations and challenges and a fan of books. An animal lover, not just cats and dogs, but all animals. She hoped for someone who would go for a walk in the rain with her and who held her when she cried over a book at two in the morning. She wanted Tetsuro.

"Are you even listening to me?"

"Oh, Margaret, I'm sorry," Jade shook away her thoughts to focus her attention on her coworker. "I was daydreaming again."

"Do that on your own time." Margaret's tone held no amusement. "It's six now, so I'll be going home. You can handle the last couple of hours on your own, can't you?"

"Of course." Jade fought the urge to roll her eyes and only just held back the animosity in her voice. She'd been working with Margaret for over a year now and closed rather frequently on her own. More often than any of her other coworkers but that was by choice. So naturally she could handle the end of the day customers that came through. "Have a good weekend, Margaret."

Margaret left without another word, something she typically did. In her old age, Margaret didn't see the point in replying to send offs. They get drawn out and tiresome, she'd explained to Jade once. And thought it hadn't sat right with Jade who was she to say otherwise to someone so set in their ways?

Another hour passed and Jade had topped off all the printers of paper, she'd checked in and restocked books as they came through and even helped the mother of an eager pre teen find a handful of books to begin his journey into the world of familiars and dragons and spells. She read a bit, eager herself to begin yet another book. It was her third that week.

There was still two hours before closing and Jade hadn't heard or seen anyone from the study group since storming away from Kuroo and Kenma. Hesitating only a moment she knocked on the door frame alerting them all to her presence. "Just checking in to see if I can help with anything," she explained when all eyes turned on her. "I can take away any books or grab new ones?"

"We'll take care of putting everything away," Sugawara gave her a simple smile.

"You look lovely by the way, Jade." Oikawa leaned back in his chair, dangerously close to toppling over, in order to make eye contact with her. "That color really brings out your eyes."

"Oh, thank you, Oikawa. Anyway, it's been pretty dead here tonight so you guys don't have to be so quiet that even a Brownie would be jealous of you. Folklore says they perform chores for Humans at night in exchange for staying at the home." Jade explained when she was met with confused looks. "Right, so, Bokuto, you can resume your usual antics."

"No! No. Absolutely not. Bokuto, don't you dare." Jade took Akaashi's uncharacteristically loud response as her opportunity to go back to the check out desk.

Oikawa didn't let her get away that easily though. Leaning against the counter he propped his chin in his hand. "Spill, what's his name? Where are you going? How did you meet?"

"This is the first time I'll be meeting him," Jade admitted with a sigh. She fell back into her chair, seemingly exhausted.

"Oh, a blind date," Oikawa sang. "How mysterious. Who set you two up?"

"It's only a blind date for one of us. Nyra, my sister, decided I've been single for too long and set up a profile for me on one of those dating apps."

"That's awful kind of her to help you get your feet back in the water."

"Is it though? I don't even know what she wrote in the about me section so how do I know this guy she agreed for me to meet is even there for anything more than just looks. It's shallow."

"Well, I think you're stunning and anyone who says otherwise is a liar."

"Thank you, but your word is far from gospel, Oikawa," Jade snorted a laugh. "And I don't think your boyfriend will appreciate you complimenting me so openly. He may get the wrong idea."

"Don't worry about Iwa-chan." A dismissive wave of his hand and a wink her way easily turned Jade's scowl into a half smile. "There it is. I'm sure if this mystery man gets to know you tonight he'll see just how wonderful you are."

Jade was used to Oikawa's flirting. She knew it meant nothing but even on his best days he never went this far. With one eyebrow raised in question she cocked her head to the side. "What do you want?"

"Told you she would catch on!" Yaku cackled from the hall.

"Yeah, you aren't that sweet!" Iwaizumi added.

"So mean, Iwa-chan!" Oikawa whined his mantra but regained his composure quickly. He flashed a smile at Jade filling her with dread before his request was even heard. "Would you be a dear and order us some bento boxes? We'll pay of course."

"You know we don't allow food in the library."

"Please Jade."

Oikawa sounded like a child begging to stay up past his bedtime. Jade's scowl returned as she stood, making it back into the meeting room before her chair stopped spinning. "Did you draw straws or just send him because you know his whining irritates me?" She asked no one in particular.

"Yes," Kuroo nodded with a mischievous grin.

"That's not a proper response to her question," Kiyoko remarked. "I did try to dissuade this, Jade but I was overruled. I apologize."

It's not that she didn't want to not break the rules. She herself ate in the library all of the time. But they didn't need to know that. Still, they had been here for a good long while now. "You'll eat with the door closed and put the studying away, you all need a break by now anyway and you'll wash your hands afterwards." Vigorous nods answered her stipulations. "I know one of the guys at the shop nearby, let me call him up real quick. Put your requests together and I'll order for you."

"I knew you'd come around!" Oikawa hugged Jade quickly before returning to his seat.

"I'm sure you did," Jade grumbled. Sometimes she was such a pushover.

M.List | Next

[letsprayitwritesitself]

groundhog dave part 6 afternoon four

9th January.

He couldn’t keep his eyes open. Like gravity was acting on them, forcing his eyelids down, yet when he indulged in a long blink, they burned. He made himself focus, squinting into his laptop screen and trying to figure out if the mysterious characters that he himself had written the night before were actually words.

Oh yeah I’ll wake up early and finish it in the morning, Jesus, when the fuck has that ever worked for anyone, God Davey.

He really wanted a cigarette. It was Friday morning, and he’d overslept. Kind of. If you could call making it to work at 7:15 oversleeping. 

It was a budget proposal for a new feature he’d managed to dream up midway through a weekend. A dry, boring piece of documentation he had to present to his superiors before being able to paint the air with his gorgeous ideas and assurances of how the feature would better the show (make them more money.) But his boss, who he’d emailed with the idea that Sunday morning, had given him a deadline of first thing Monday, giving him less than a day to get it together.

Why couldn’t they just trust him and give him a blank cheque?

Like an idiot he had let himself sleep, as soon as the words on the page started to become meaningless literally as he wrote them, and woke in a panic after five hours, pulled his clothes on and ran to the station, where he slammed his laptop down on his desk and hurriedly tried to finish the damn thing.

So maybe when Sheila from casting had brought the new weatherman over, he hadn’t exactly... noticed. Not straight away, anyway. He was busy.

‘And Jack, this is David, he’s one of our roving producers! You’ll be with him on the Groundhog... David?’ 

‘Huh?’ He looked up and blinked.

‘This is Jack, the new weatherman. First day!’

He tried to think. Man standing in front of him. Sheila from casting. Report. Deadline. Fuck. Fucking work. 

‘What?’

‘I’m Jack.’ Jack held out his hand. Davey glanced at it. He reached out and shook it, as he did so letting his eyes drift back to his laptop screen. Was that number right? That date?

‘Hey...’ He didn’t mean to be rude. But how could he meet someone new when he was clearly tied up in this? He had already forgotten this guy’s name. ‘It’s nice to...’ That figure was definitely wrong. Shit. ‘Sorry. This is.’ He meant to say a whole sentence but the rest fell away as he tried to locate his other spreadsheet, that little attention he’d spared utterly swept away. He didn’t see Jack bite his lip, raise his eyebrows and nod, and he didn’t see Sheila purse her lips and turn back to Jack.

‘Let’s get you introduced to make-up.’

Some time later, when the report was fired off, and he had the brain capacity to think about anything else, this encounter would dawn on him as a slightly embarrassing asshole move, but not one that he really had the time or inclination to fix. He couldn’t be too unhappy if he wasn’t best friends with everyone at the station, right? That wasn’t why he was there. 

//

February 2nd. Time four. Continued.

On his way into the square he saw Spot and a brief flame of self-consciousness flared up. Spot had no idea that they had - because they technically hadn’t... But then Davey had definitely - Christ. It felt icky. Like he had no right to know what Spot looked like in the throes of passion, and yet, as he stared at him, that was all he could think of (obviously, and it got more difficult to push away the more he tried.) Spot glanced at him as he attempted to force his mind away, and they locked eyes. He was wearing his signature glare, so Davey looked away immediately. But then. He knew, or could infer, from the other night that Spot... liked him. In some conceivable way. So he looked back up. And it felt dumb, but he let a lazy smile cross his face, and nodded his head just barely. Spot’s glare softened. Flirting - check. Ish.

He crossed to the far corner of the square, and to Jack and Crutchie. 

He felt like he could recite the ceremony word for word by now and resisted the urge to prove it, watching with a distant enthusiasm that was alien but not unwelcome. Right on cue after the broadcast snow started to fall.

‘It’s snowing!’ And he let himself be taken in just a little by Jack’s dazzling, childlike grin.

‘We weren’t expecting any snow, huh?’

‘Not ‘til tonight. Thought we’d be back before it started!’

‘You think we should get a move on, Dave?’ Crutchie eyed Davey as he crammed his camera back in its case. 

‘I feel like by the time we get to the highway we’ll be stuck here, this snow feels serious. You know how long it’s meant to last, Jack?’

‘It’s hard to say. Could be a couple hours. Could be days.’

Helpful, was what Davey would have replied any other day. ‘I think we should wait it out. I don’t trust myself driving us three and this equipment in heavy snow, anyway. I’ve got the station’s credit card. Let’s get brunch.’

//

Diner. Fogged up windows. Steaming mugs of coffee. And a giant stack of pancakes with extra bacon, syrup, and several scoops of ice cream for Davey. Jack watched him tuck in, eyes wide.

‘Never woulda had you down as the type, Davey. You struck me as a black coffee, brown toast kinda producer.’

‘Treat yo self, right?’ Davey took a gulp of his third cup of coffee (this behaviour was  not Groundhog Day induced, this part was just Davey.) ‘Like, sucks that we’re stranded here, but bright side: amazing pancakes.’ Jack stared, expression a mixture of nervous appraisal and admiration. 

It struck Davey then that despite his feeling somewhat... closer didn’t feel like exactly the right word, but... closer to Jack after their two nights in the bar, to Jack he was still the same kind of asshole that had been in such a terrible mood the night they had arrived, as far as Jack was concerned, twelve hours previous. He had softened this a little, by admitting his assholeness and apologising, but there was only so much damage control that could be done in a morning. Plus whatever he did would be swept away by this weird fucking phenomenon. It felt nice to try, though. And if he thought about it long enough and wanted to feel a little humble, he might just say that Punx was the best place to recharge his batteries, get away from some of the pressures of Philly, and as such prove both to himself and others that he wasn’t actually a jerk.

But he wasn’t quite there yet.

‘You’re right.’ Jack sat back in his seat, leaning one arm across the back of the booth and wrapping his other hand round his coffee mug. ‘I’m glad you’re starting to warm to Punx. I gotta say I was a little antsy. The way you’ve been talking about this trip I expected this place to be, like, a big field with no hot water and a population of twelve.’

‘You mean you weren’t looking forward to it? Jack Kelly, eternal optimist?’ The sugar in his breakfast was starting to make him jittery, and that awareness that the day was bound to be erased gave him a little confidence in steering the conversation somewhere new.

‘It’s not that I wasn’t looking forward to it! Well. Okay. I wasn’t... But I’m the face on the screen, right? Had to pretend I was.’

‘So it’s an act?’ Wow, Davey. How to talk to your coworkers 101: resist psychoanalysis. But, he tried to remind himself, this conversation would be erased. It would disappear. Probably.

‘What’s an act?’

‘The whole... Chipper, happy weatherman thing?’

‘I mean - I really am a weatherman. That part’s not an act.’

‘Right.’

‘But - I don’t know! Like, if I’m not looking forward to something, does that give me the right to just walk around with a long face all the time?’

‘Is that what I do, then?’

‘No! Come on.’

Davey sat back in his chair. This was starting to feel like a segue into a conversation he had always wanted to have with someone, but had never been able to. A perfectly sensible question, one that everyone wondered but just seemed a little much to ask. He bit his lip. Go hard or go home. ‘What do you... think of me?’

Jack raised his eyebrows at the question and a jolt of anxiety burned in Davey’s stomach. This is going to get erased. And if not... you can always move. 

‘What do I think of you?’

‘First impression. Most recent impression. Whatever. Be brutally honest.’

‘Brutally? Davey, I don’t know you. Not really.’

‘You must have some... thoughts.’ This was terrifying. Eschewing social norms was exhilarating in a way but mostly just fucking terrifying. 

‘Can I ask why?’

‘No. Maybe later.’

‘Alright. Can I have amnesty for this? You won’t get offended?’

‘If I do, I’ll pretend I’m not.’

‘Right. So - alright.’ Jack leaned forward on the table and studied Davey. ‘You are very good at your job. I can tell. And I’ve seen pictures of you at the Christmas party, so I know that the person who it sometimes seems like you are isn’t necessarily... Okay. I get the... impression... that you think you’re too good for the role that you’re in.’ Davey started to regret asking but couldn’t push away his desperation for the answer. Jack continued. ‘And maybe you are too good! You probably are - but what have you done to show people that you can be a kick ass producer, other than complaining about it and expecting people to agree with you?’ He paused and sat back, picking at the label on his water bottle. ‘Not that that’s - this is only stuff I’ve thought about the past day or so. Like I say. I don’t really know you.’

The whole thing felt like a sucker punch - one he knew in the back of his mind he would be happy to have heard, but - god. 

‘Oh boy.’

‘I’m sorry, Davey. You did ask...’

‘I know. Haha.’ He let out a long, shaky breath. ‘So how do-’ This would disappear. He could get away with baring his soul to Jack a little, putting his pride aside. ‘How do you do it? What makes Jack Kelly... Jack Kelly?’

‘Never really thought about it.’

‘I just - like. I get anxious.’ He sighed. ‘I’m anxious now. There’s a little stopper in my head keeping me from saying everything I want because I’m that nervous about the outcome.’

‘Then don’t be!’

‘Ah, right. Problem solved.’

‘Okay, that was dumb. But what are you actually afraid of?’

‘I guess... Getting laughed at. Or fired. Or just going off the other way, like, what if I let myself relax and do something really dumb and don’t realise, and everyone is laughing at me and I’m just that dense that I think everything’s fine?’

‘You have to not care what everyone thinks! You have to, like, reconfigure your head so you can devalue other peoples’ opinions - not to nothing, obviously, but to less. Right? Like, I’m on TV. I’m not famous but I’m there, any every morning after my forecast I get a dozen tweets from - yeah, ok, some old ladies who like seeing me, but there’s always a few people trying to be assholes.’

‘But those people don’t have power over your career. Why shouldn’t I care what the people at the network think when they’re the ones who could make or break me?’

‘You should care what they think, granted, but don’t be scared of them. And listen - those people do have power over my career. No one’s trying to put a weatherman the people don’t respond to on TV. So that means that everything I do is kind of a means to try and get people to like me. That’s... how I’ve formed my personality. I mean, I’ve never really looked at it that way, but I guess it’s true.’

There was a long moment of silence as they both processed what had been said. As awkward and convoluted this conversation had felt for Davey, it kind of felt like invaluable knowledge. He was glad to have it.

‘So, fair’s fair.’ 

‘Huh?’ He blinked and stared at Jack.

‘My turn. What do you think of me? Since we’re playing this game.’

‘Oh.’ Another struggle against his internal resistance to being anything but placid. He could see why Jack didn’t like answering the question. It was hard. But Davey had appreciated the honesty, so maybe... ‘It took me a while to warm to you.’ 

‘How come?’

‘I started to think that maybe we weren’t compatible, like, in a professional sense.’

‘No?’

‘Because you’re so good at people, and I’m not.’

‘You’re fine at people.’

‘I know I’m being weird right now and I’m nervous that you’re judging me, but at the same time...’

‘Doesn’t mean we aren’t professionally compatible thought, right? The media needs introverts and extroverts - introverts to think and extroverts to talk.;

‘You’re right. You are right.’

‘Back to me. Didn’t like me at first?’

‘I thought you were cocky and - fake sounds harsh, but... Affected, maybe. A performance. The smiles, the happiness.’

‘To be fair, Davey, you only really see me on the news.’

‘Yes! So then Punx, which I was dreading, but you - I think I’ve started to realise that it is your personality. It’s not fake. It’s nice to, you know, bring the sunshine, as it were.’

‘Someone has to.’ Jack glanced down at the table then back up at Davey. ‘Can I ask you something?’

‘Sure.’

‘Do you think everyone at the station thinks I’m fake?’

‘What?’

‘If you thought that...’

‘No! Jack, I’m sorry - I didn’t mean... I don’t know why I said it.’

‘Cuz I asked.’

Davey’s stomach twisted and he felt like a dick for instigating this. It had been interesting to know what Jack thought but did that mean he had to air his own prejudices about the poor guy? He almost looked a little cut up.

‘Jack - everyone at the station genuinely adores you. You have to know that.’

‘Yeah, but if I’m fake, maybe everyone else is fake, right?’ He stood up, pushing his plate away. ‘Excuse me, Davey. I need to go take a walk.’

Ah. 

He watched Jack leave, a contemplative look of disappointment on his face Davey had never  seen before. What the hell had driven him to that kind of unwelcome honesty? He’d never expected Jack to actually take it to heart. 

It was fine. It was okay. The day was going to repeat. It had to. He could try again. 

He left too, heading back to the hotel despite it being barely eleven. If he could just sleep, work, watch Netflix, anything until the next day, it would be fine. He didn’t want to risk fucking anything else up.

The walk back was only a couple of minutes, but a little eventful by Punx standards. As he stepped out the diner a tiny dachshund sprinted comically down the street, and a little ways away about a minute later a delivery man stumbled down the steps of his truck, spilling the stack of boxes he was holding and sending the contents, dozens of cupcakes, flying down the road. Davey felt the tiniest jolt of guilt as he walked past but figured the damage had been done, and the bakery employees the cakes were destined for could probably help. 

And of course, if he helped, it would probably only happen again tomorrow.

Just outside the hotel he had to duck round a woman standing at the gate talking to Mrs. Bloom - or weeping, it turned out, clutching an A4 printout that declared “MISSING PUPPY.” He recognised it as the pup that had just flown past him and forced himself to stop and mention this to the woman. 

A ladder leaned precariously against the hotel, where a cleaner finished up one of the first floor windows, stretching out to get the last corner. Just as Davey got inside the door, the ladder slipped into the soft soil under the man’s weight and toppled, sending him flying hard onto the lawn. Mrs. Bloom rushed over to attend, and Davey, at seeing the man sit up and proclaim ‘I’m okay, I’m okay!’ decided it was fine to not intervene. 

This stuff had probably happened the previous versions of this day and would only happen again tomorrow’s version of the day - and Davey had his own shit to figure out. 

[notsoguiltykpop]

Of Books and Dirty Cash pt 14

Librarian/gangster!Au

Yoongi x Reader

Before you moved to live on campus for college, you had never heard of a librarian who had a reputation for yelling. But not only does Min Yoongi yell, he’s also dangerous, and part of something much, much darker. When curiosity gets the better of you, you end up involved in much more than you bargained for.

You can also read part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18

You walked into your dorm room in a haze, still not quite sure what to think of the previous night. Diane was there, and jumped off the bed as soon as she saw you.

“Where have you been?” She demanded as you sighed and sat down on your bed. “Do you know how worried I was? You didn’t answer your phone—what happened to your face?”

You touched your cheek gingerly where you had been struck, and were suddenly more aware of your still split lip.

“Don’t worry about it, the guy who did it now has a broken arm.” You didn’t add the fact that he also had some broken ribs, or the fact that Jaebum now wanted Yoongi dead.

“You broke someone’s arm?” Diane said, looking less angry and more concerned now. You shook your head as your roommate walked over and sat next to you on the bed.

“No, someone else did.” You replied quietly.

“Where were you last night?” Diane asked again, and the question hung in the air as you tried to figure out how much to tell her.

“With Yoongi.” You said finally. Diane just blinked owlishly at you for a moment.

“Yoongi the librarian?” You nodded.

“Did Yoongi do that?” She pointed to your bruised face, and you shook your head quickly.

“Of course not. Yoongi was the one who broke the other guys arm.”

“You were out all night. With Yoongi.” Diane said slowly. “You do know it’s a terrible idea to sleep with your boss, right?” The question caught you off guard, and you scrambled to explain.

“What? No! I mean, we’re not—we didn’t…” Diane looked less than convinced.

“I guess he’s okay.” She said thoughtfully. “He isn’t bad looking, has a stable job…But doesn’t he yell a lot?”

“I’m telling you, it isn’t like that!” You said, thoroughly exasperated. “We’re friends. I think. Maybe.” You didn’t actually know what you and Yoongi were anymore. “Coworkers” just didn’t seem to cut it.

“So… He wasn’t any good then?”

You swung your pillow at Diane, hoping she would go away if she wasn’t going to listen to what you were saying anyway. She took then hint with a sigh, catching your pillow and tossing it back to its place on at the top of your bed.

“I’ll leave you to sulk, then.” She said, getting up and walking over to the dorm door, only to stop dead in her tracks once it was open. She turned back to you slowly, closing the door again. “I don’t suppose you know why a model is leaning against the wall watching our door, do you?”

“His name is Taehyung. It’s a long story.” You said, laying down on your bed. Diane looked like she wanted to say something else, but closed her mouth.

“I don’t want to know, do I?” She said, and you nodded. “Can you introduce me sometime?” You shook your head, pulling your covers up to your nose.

You heard the door close behind Diane, and you remembered the conversation you had with Yoongi earlier. After a strange breakfast, you had attempted to slip out without being noticed, but to no avail. Yoongi had caught up with you as you reached the door, and you felt weird just walking away.

“You’re leaving?” He asked, and you hadn’t known what to say to that, so he continued. The previous twenty four hours had been a lot for you to process, and you felt like you needed a break from it all. “Look, I know a lot has happened, and I don’t blame you if you don’t want to talk to me, but at least let someone drive you home?”

You tried to smile, recognizing the concern in his eyes. “I’m fine, really. It’s a nice day, the fresh air will be nice.” Yoongi opened his mouth to argue before closing it again.

“Will you let Taehyung walk with you then?”

You had agreed somewhat reluctantly before adding, “I think I’ll take Monday off, if that’s alright with you.”

You had allowed Taehyung to walk you back to your dorms, and hadn’t even thought that he might have simply stayed outside your door. You waited a few more minutes before crawling out from under your covers and walking over to the door. “You can go home, you know.” You said with a sigh, only opening the door enough to see him. People would talk if this became a regular thing. Now that you thought about it, people would probably talk even if it was a onetime thing.

“I know.” Taehyung replied with a smile. He was sitting cross-legged against the opposite wall, playing a game on his phone.

“So why are you still here?” You didn’t intend for your words to come across so sharp, but he didn’t look like he had gotten the hint.

“Because if I leave and you die, I’ll die too.” He replied simply.

“Why would you die?” You asked, then realized that he must mean that his brother would kill him. “You know Yoongi wouldn’t hurt you.” You pointed out, hoping that you could talk him out of staying there. Taehyung looked up at you, an eyebrow raised.

“I know you work with him, but there’s a lot you don’t know about Min Yoongi.” He muttered with a pout. “But your right, he wouldn’t actually kill me. He’d just be really sad.” Taehyung looked lost in thought for a moment before continuing. “It’s been a long time since he’s been happy, I don’t want to take that away from him.” He went back to the game on his phone, and you guessed that meant the conversation was over.

The rest of the weekend passed with you staying in your dorm room, and by Monday your face started to look more normal. You had told Taehyung once again the previous day that he could leave, and you were once more ignored. He accompanied you to your classes, just as he said he would, and was waiting the second you got out.

Back in your room, you dropped your bag on the floor and tried to will away the headache you could feel behind your eyes. People had started asking questions, and you didn’t know what to tell them. “Is that your boyfriend?” One classmate had asked excitedly when she saw you walking with him. It was fairly easy to say that no, he was just a friend, but it was harder to explain away the rumor that he had been seen sitting outside of your door for two days straight (you were fairly sure that it was someone else who sat outside of your door at night so Taehyung could sleep, but you had no proof of this and were starting to speculate whether or not Taehyung was, in fact, a vampire).

On a sudden whim, you stepped back into hall, the door clicking shut behind you. You sunk down to the floor, sitting across from Taehyung who was currently ignoring your presence.

“Why does everyone think that I mean something to Yoongi?” You asked. Taehyung had a habit of acting like he was oblivious, but there was something about the way his eyes followed people, studied them, that made you think that he was more perceptive than he liked people to believe.

“Because you do.” He said offhandedly, not looking up. “He wouldn’t have paid the ransom if he didn’t give a crap, right?”

“I don’t think that’s why he paid it though.” You said, and Taehyung paused. “I think he would have paid the ransom for a complete stranger, that’s just who he is.”

“What’s your point?” Taehyung sighed. “I’m trying to beat this level, and you’re being very distracting.”

“My point is,” You said. “Paying the ransom is irrelevant. Why does everyone think I mean something to him?” You were determined to get a real answer.

Taehyung bit his lip. “Seokjin.” He said after a moment. “After he met you, he was pretty excited that Yoongi made a friend.”

“That literally makes no sense.” You grumbled, and Taehyung shrugged.

“Seokjin has known Yoongi longer than any of us. Seokjin was adopted when he was seven, and two years later Yoongi was. They’ve known each other ever since. They’re closer than any blood tie could make someone, and Seokjin is good at reading people. Put the two together, and it wasn’t hard for him to figure out that you were important to Yoongi, for whatever the reason. Yoongi is very protective, both of his stuff—like his desk that he actually let you sit at—and of people who are close to him.” You recalled how defensive Yoongi had been when he saw Seokjin talking to you, and it suddenly made a bit more sense why Seokjin would draw such a conclusion.

“Let’s say that I do mean something to him.” You said slowly. “Why would Jaebum have known that?”

Taehyung tilted his head to the side in thought. “He may not have. He could have just been waiting for someone to get close to Yoongi and was grasping at straws. Maybe he just got lucky, or maybe Bangtan has a snitch. Either way, Yoongi’s reaction won’t have done anything but reinforce the notion.”

“Go home Taehyung.” You said finally, and maybe there was something desperate in your tone, because Taehyung actually looked like he was considering.

“You sure you’ll be okay here?” He said, not looking at all convinced.

“I’ll be fine, it’s weird to have you here. And Diane says she’s going to have a heart attack if she sees you first thing in the morning again.”

Taehyung laughed at that, and nodded as he stood. “Ok, we’ll compromise. I’ll be outside the building.”

“No, really Taehyung.” You said, noticing the circles under his eyes. You wondered if they had been there the whole time, and you just hadn’t paid enough attention to notice. “Go home and get some rest.”

Taehyung looked honestly relieved, but hesitated. “You’ll call me if you decide to go out somewhere?” He asked. “Or if you need anything?”

“Of course I will.” You assured him. “Oh, and Taehyung?” You said as he turned to leave. “Could you tell Yoongi I won’t be in tomorrow? I have homework…” You weren’t sure why you didn’t want to return to the library, but you thought it might have something to do with being around Yoongi. You didn’t exactly blame Yoongi for what had happened (that you blamed Jaebum for), but you also no longer felt like you really knew him. It didn’t help that you felt like if anything like what happened on Friday were to happen again, you would have a nervous breakdown. You really just needed some time to think.

Taehyung frowned. “Sure, I guess. You don’t want to talk to him?”

You shook your head. “M’busy.” You said quickly, standing. “See you tomorrow Taehyung.” You closed the door before he could reply.

A/N I promise I haven’t forgotten about the requests! My plan was to work on them today, and then I got busy. Thank you for reading! Has Reader made a mistake sending Taehyung away? Was it for the best? Sorry this chapter didn’t have much of Yoongi, lol even though it’s a Reader x Yoongi story, I feel like I end up with more time with the others? But it has to do with the plot, I swear. (Speaking of the plot, Got7 will be back in the next chapter, I’m excited) Let me know what you think! And thank you all for being so patient with me <3

[ecotone99]

[MF] Sunday Scaries

The conversation formatting doesnt hold on reddit copy paste, so its much better read thru link

Linking at Top to not spoil the end - hope thats OK!

https://www.casualblasphemy.com/blog/sundayscaries

​

------------------------------------------

Jesus Christ and Other Swear words

Volume II: Anxiety Rainbow

A Slower Burn to Fiery Finish. About 10-15 minutes

Chapter 2, 3 or 7, not sure yet.

​

​

Chapter III: Sunday Night Scream Into the Void

I lie (awake) to myself

A feeling of impending doom. So many emails. Existential dread and the Sunday Scaries.

I cannot sleep, it is nearly midnight. I have so much to do this week.

I lie awake and try to think of all the embarrassing things other people have done.

I can't think of any, so I go back to remembering my own social failings.

The time I tripped in front of my Crush age 14. My disastrous bangs of just last year. The time I mispronounced Worcheschertshishire in front of my cute coworker. The 23 blocks I walked with toilet paper stuck to my foot and that afternoon tanning in the park with a tampon string dangling from my bikini bottoms. Everyone remembers. I am sure of it. I farted once on a conference call.

Monday is only a few hours away. So many emails and the dishes sit soaking for a third day. I shouldn't have slept in today. I have so much to do tomorrow. I think about every time i've fucked up in my past 30 years.

My anxiety builds and I try again to refocus my attention. I try to remember all the embarrassing things other people have done, but I literally cannot think of any. I sort of remember one of my friends shitting his pants. Was that the day I walked into the sliding glass door. Do you think he remembers? Oh god, was it me that poped my pants? Oh jeez, i said poped, not pooped. Im talking out loud to myself.

Thank god no one is here.

I feel lonely.

----

I eat a CBD chocolate and feel the anxiety of impending doom. So many emails.

I remember. I remember every embarrassing thing I have done in my entire life. I have so much to do this week. So many emails. I have a meeting tomorrow and I don't feel prepared. That time I was left hanging for a high five with my hand in the air. I looked like Hitler with no friends. It is Sunday and life is Scary. So much to do this week. Were they laughing at me? I feel lonely. No one talked to me today. I feel like the Pluto of my friend group.

I decide to crowdsource some self esteem and climb on Tinder.

Left

Left

Right

Match!

Left

Left

Oh damn this guy is hot.

Damn, 5’10

Left

Right

Match!

Left

Left

Right

Match!

Right

Match!

Right

Match!

Every time I swipe right it's a Match. I feel attractive and desirable

Left

Left

ew

Left

Left

Double ew!

Left

Right

Right

Nothing. What!?

I lower my standards

Right

Right

Right

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing

Sunday Feels Scary Again. I have so much to do tomorrow. I don't want to play the game anymore. I fear rejection from strangers. Kinda horny tho. I survey my matches and read messages:

“Hey”

“Wanna Fuck?”

“Nice weather Today”

“Show me your bobs?”

“Nice Feet”

A profile stands out

Blake

6”2’ “Ive never shoed a horse, but I told a Cow to go home once”

I don't really get it, but he's HOT. That fish he caught is HUGE! I climb out of my comfort zone and message first. I've never done this before

“Hey” she wrote with butterflies

….

…….

………..

18 minutes pass. Nothing.

I go back to swiping unenthusiastically

Right

Right

Nothing.

I feel like a Moth in a world of Butterflies. Undesirable.

OH GOD. I research gravity blankets and take a xanax. I think of Cocoons.

I fall asleep lonely horny disappointed anxious and 8% numb. So many emails. Maybe I can do the dishes tomorrow after work, the gym, and picking up my prescriptions. I shouldn't have messaged him. I need groceries. That time I tripped on the bleachers and Becky laughed at me. I run through the grocery list in my head. Eggs, avocados, kombucha, spinach, Shame, paper towels, CBD chocolates. I feel weird.

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I survive another week with espresso and antidepressants. It was hard. I am so tired. I am so tired all the time. Its sunday night and I feel The Doom coming again. I batten the hatches and prepare to wait out the emotional storm under the weight of my new Gravity Blanket. Its heavy and sweaty and I regret buying it. My anxiety rises to new highs and I feel like an idiot. Thank god no one is here. I feel lonely.

Ping!

Blake: :Me

“Hey ;) still up?”

I think about unmatching to teach him a lesson for not replying to me last week, but digital or not, I really need this distracting attention.

“Maybe ;) whatcha doing?”

Trying not to think about Monday LOL

LOLOL Same Same. Sunday Scaries :o

LOL I KNOW! Just gotta get through this week,

I am getting a puppy on Friday!

Puppy! What kind!?

A Frenchi :) her name is Luna

OMG NEED!

You have any pets?

Nooooo :(

You can come play with mine!

Cats or Dogs?

YES PLZ! I grew up with dogs :)

What was the name of your first pet?

Daisy :) she was so sweet

Awww, where did you grow up?

Seattle, just moved for a new job

It's hard being in a new city!

Well I can show you around!

What is your job?

Never been to Seattle, were you born there?

Born in Suburbia, lol

a little town nearby called Auburn

I work for a company that has meetings

I have a friend from Auburn!

LoL what do you meet about?

No way!

We meet about other meetings

Yea, did you got to Westside Elementary?

Eastside

Oh nice, her mom was a teacher there

Did you have Mrs. Ellison for 1st grade English?

I don't remember a Mrs. Ellison?

I had a Mr. Gardner

Oh lol. U like cars?

Sort of

I just got a new one :)

What was the make and model of your first car?

Wow! You are having quite the year!

Lol 1994 black honda civic. The dream

You sound like a Capricorn

Virgo!

Oh nice, when is your birthday?

August 24th, 1990

Just got a pic of my puppy, wanna see?

OMG YES

206-390-0345

I like Capricorns ;)

Oh god that sounded desperate

Texted you

Didn't get it!

Tried again

Nothing :(

Lol new phone too, I think its fucked tho

Whats your email, I wanna show you my bb pup!

Lol look at you Mr. New

[VeganJessica3@gmail.com](mailto:VeganJessica3@gmail.com)

….

……

……..

Did you send it?

…..

Hello?

Fal Asleep? lol

Ping!

An email arrives to my racing heart. He's so inquisitive! New car and a puppy! I wonder what he does for a living? Such a Gentleman, that was a whole hour of texting and he didn't even ask for nudes. I click the notification but my email won't open.

Please login to continue. I type my password “Daisy123”

Incorrect password/email combination

Please try again

Oh, is it lowercase?

******3

Please Try Again

*****3

Please Try Again

******3

Please Try Again

Ugh im so tired, I can't even type right. I'll leave it for morning

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MondayVegan Jessica III sleeps well in dreams of Blake, Frenchi’s and Avocados under the weight of her anti-anxiety gravity blanket. She wakes with a smile and grabs her phone eagerly.

Please Try Again

Please Try Again

Vegan Jessica III eats her last free-range Avocado on a piece of whole-wheat gluten-free non-cruelty noGMO carboloaf. Num!

Please Try Again

Fucking Annoying!

I switch over to my work email and begin responding to CC threads as I walk to the train. I meet with my team and we plan our next meeting. We have a great plan to plan.

I get home exhausted. I am so tired. We met for three hours and planned for three more days of planning meetings about meeting plans. I log in to tinder and check my messages. Nothing. I take a xanax and go to sleep. The dishes are molding and i'm out of avocados.

Tuesday

I wake stressed and skip breakfast. I head into work and drink espresso. We meet again to discuss our plan to plan. Everything goes as planned and we adjourn. I get out of work 15 minutes early and swing by CVS Pharmacy for LaCroix and drugs.

Some freak in a fedora oggles my breasts through my oversized sweater. What is he even looking at?

“Hi, yes, prescription pickup for Vegan Jessica III. It should have been called in Monday”

“Sure thing, insurance and ID please. Have a seat, it'll be about 15 minutes”

Pharmacists are just drug baristas, change my mind. I wait 45 minutes for the man in the never-dirtied lab coat to grab a prepackaged bottle of prozac from the wall. I hand him my credit card.

“Im sorry Ma’am, your card was declined, do you have another?”

The word ‘Ma’am’ turns three of my pubic hairs grey. It makes me kind of miss that creep in the fedora surveying my body.

Are you sure? Can you try again

Yes ma’am, the card is declined. Do you have another Ma’am?

Ma’am

Can you try calling them? I left my debit at home and don't have any cash.

I glance at my Fitbit. The time is 6:01pm

Its after 6pm Ma’am, you'll have to wait till tomorrow.

I leave the CVS and the pharmacists spends the next 30 minutes placing the bottle of pills back on the shelf.

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I go home feeling frustrated. I skip the mailbox, dishes, dustbunnies and head straight for my bed. I pull the gravity blanket over my head like a ghost and feel a little better. I eat a half a pound of CBD chocolate and feel much better.

I log into Tinder. Fucking Blake ghosted. Unmatched. Under my blanket I get scared of ghosts and eat another ¼ pound of CBD chocolate.

Wednesday

I wake feeling like shit. I don't know why. I feel stressed. I call in sick to work and take a xanax and go back to bed. I awake to a phonecall from an unknown number. Fucking spamassrobocalls. I scream FUCK YOU to 1s and 0s. There's a panic rising in my throat.

I haven't checked my personal email in days now and try to log back in. I click password recovery and an email is sent to my old college email | [VegetarianJessica@college.edu](mailto:VegetarianJessica@college.edu). Ugh I can't believe I used to eat honey and drink milk with my coffee; I feel ashamed of my former self. It feels like a Sunday, but it's only wednesday.

I try to login to my old college email to recover my password for my post-college email.

I try to remember my old password

Please Try again

I try all my old combinations

Please Try again

Please Try again

Please Try again

Please Try again

Lockout timer 29:59..

29:58….

29:57….

Ugh I hate this shit.

Trying to recover a password to recover a password. Did I type it wrong? Was it capitalized? Am I just not remembering it right? Was the ‘I’ a “!” ?? Was there 123 at the end, or maybe beginning?

I need to set my passwords to things I can never forget. Maybe take a lesson from Sunday. Shame and Trauma seem to make for fantastic passwords.

MyFatherAbandonedOurFamilyIn1997!

That's not something im likely to forget

I spend the next 29 minutes finally doing the dishes and feel a little better.

Please Try again

Please Try again

Please Try again

Please Try again

Lockout timer 59:59

FUCK

I hate this shit. I click the password recovery button on my college email and a third is sent to my very first email address. [Jessica1990AuburnWA@aol.com](mailto:Jessica1990AuburnWA@aol.com)

I go to AOL.com and try to login

Please Try again

Please Try again

Please Try again

Please Try again

Please Try again

Please Try again

Please Try again

Please Try again

It feels like im opening those Russian Dolls. Every time I open one, another is there. The Russian Nesting Dolls of Digital Frustration. Please Try Again Later.

Recover the password

to recover the password

to recover the password

Please Try Again

I channel my frustration and hit the gym. Pilates class with Pontious. I stop on the way home and Scream into the Void. I feel a little better.

I check the mailbox before the stairs.

I turn the key and an avalanche spills out. Envelope after envelope, it seems unending. They just keep coming. The cascade flow dries to a dribble and I reach inside to scoop the rest of my mail out.

My arms are full of dead trees and I feel sad. Plus its like super heavy after an hour of cross planking. I ascend the stairs and unlock the door with my keys in my mouth. I push the door open with my forehead and dump the heavy mess of envelopes and magazines on the floor.

A Victoria Secret catalogue catches my eye. I make a mental note of my despise for their company message and start perusing the pages. What kind of image are they putting in the heads of young girls. False standards of beauty. Where are the real women! That bra is like super cute tho. I order three in different colors but my card is declined. The bras never come, its ok tho, they wouldn't have fit me anyway.

When my card is declined I think of Blake’s rejection again. Ghosted. What an asshole. Whatever he's probably just another pig who gets off to Victoria Secret models and supports an impossible standard of beauty. I am now convinced Victoria’s real Secret is mainstream distribution of introductory pornography to young boys in suburbia. That's a big mental leap to take from subquality prethought, but I think it's important to note where some of these idolized false standards of beauty start. They start with aging young Mother’s ordering VS products and catalogs to catch renewed interest from their lazily inattentive husbands and trickledown pornoEconomics recycles the catalogs to prepubescent boys. Hidden and stolen, they are a prime middle-school currency. The image of Desire becomes fixed in pubescent development and the path upscycles again.

I throw the catalog away disgusted and pick up my copy of the much more realistic Vogue. I eat more CBD chocolate and forget to call my credit card company. I fall asleep with fragrant advertisements and two miles of photoshop-smoothed Gigi Hadid legs on my face.

Friday

It's a beautiful morning and i'm feeling rested. I don't know what happened to Thursday. We have a brief meeting about next week's meeting and are dismissed early. Summer Fridays are the best! I meet up with my besties and we dress up to impossible standards of beauty.

Thin pink straps patterned with “VS VS VS” loop my shoulders out of my strapless black dress. Clash is in. I think it looks cute even tho the bra doesn't fit well. I lace up my gladiator platform cork wedges and we head out for a night of dancing.

I dance next to my ugliest friend and bask in double attention.

Buy you a Drink?

Wanna Dance?

Ever Ride a Motorcycle?

All eyes on me. I dance and twirl and snort the night away. This cocaine is fantastic. My credit card still doesn't work so I have boys buy me drinks. I black out a bit and wake up in my Uber home. Its light out and the birds won't shut up about the stupid sun. My heart is beating arhythmically and I feel weird. A feeling of impending doom is brewing and it makes me feel weirder - it's not even Sunday.

I sober up a bit, but can't sleep. I decide to finish the vial of cocaine I took from that boy and do some housekeeping.

I take the trash out and open my computer. I feel inspired to clean and conquer.

I will recover my password!

I see a button for ‘alternate recovery options’ on my ancient @aol email and click

A series of questions challenge my identity

“Date of Birth”

August 24th, 1990

“What was the name of your first Pet?”

Daisy

“What was the name of your 1st grade English Teacher?

Mr. Gardner

“What City Were you Born in?”

Auburn

“What was the Make and Model of your First Car?”

1994 Black Honda Civic

And just like that I'm in! I recover my password and recover my password and recover my password.

The russian dolls reassemble and my anxiety plummets

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Until I open Gmail to a Nightmare

The realization grips me. The Saturday Scaries are Real. I spring to the 4 foot foyer of my apartment where the non-fashion-catalog remainder of my mail avalanche sits piled like rubble.

I rifle through envelopes and cut my finger. It really stings. I suckle a droplet of blood and read the envelopes

Chase | Amex | Credit Karma | MasterCard | Kohls Discover Card | ATT | SPRINT | T-Mobile

Bills. Bills of all kinds. Bills of all shapes and sizes. Bills Not mine, but mine. An acre of rainforest in bills.

My iphone rings and my phone wont open. Panic Panic Panic. Saturday Scaries. I pull my bleeding finger from my mouth and the iphone recognizes my face. I answer the call

“Ma’am i'm calling from TransUnion Credit Reporting, we've seen some unusual activity on your report this week, can you confirm opening the following 227 Credit Cards on Sunday between the hours of 11pm and 4am Monday Morning?”

(This phone call 97% actually happened)

My vision spots and I hit the floor.

___

I awake Sunday. My head is throbbing and my finger hurts. I look at the papercut and it stares back with green eyes. It smells like Almond Butter, but the gross GMO kind. I put CBD oil on it and leave the house.

I head to the hospital, but my credit card is declined. My finger is green to the knuckle and it definitely feels like a Sunday.

I head home and curl up in my bed. With my green arm I pull the gravity blanket over my head and cry. I fall asleep feeling scared and not safe.

I wake to pain. The green has spread throughout my whole body. I feel weak. I need to go to work. So many emails.

I feel The DOOM

I try to lift the gravity blanket, but I am weak and it is too heavy.

The longer I stay, the weaker I become. Days pass and I miss meeting after meeting. I sweat profusely trapped inside a cocoon of anxiety. Unseen emails pile up and add to the weight. My phone is out of battery and I can't reach past the blanket for my charger. I need water. I really need water.

I feel The DOOM

I think of blood poisoning and my plummeting credit scoreThe Chrysalis hardens to reject the outside world

It becomes my Tomb. I feel safe here.

Immune to Anxiety

No emails, no meetings.

The DOOM fades to black and so do I.

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