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hearts-hunger · 16 days ago

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Read on AO3 | Masterlist | Kitkat Universe Masterlist

Summary: You and Danny go to the annual haunted woods paintball game.

Pairings: Danny x Reader | Genre: fluff | Word Count: 4k | Warnings: smoking

A/N: This is my fic for the GVF Fic Writers Halloween Event! Of course it's Danny and Kitkat <3 I used the prompt "starting a new Halloween tradition". I hope you like it! ♡

“I want to go too.”

Danny gave you an uncertain look, packing his vest into the duffle bag on your bed. You couldn't tell if it was surprise at your statement or reluctance to have you tag along, and felt a little uncertain yourself as you waited for his answer.

“Are you sure?” he asked. He tucked his curls behind his ear, and you were distracted by the movement for a moment. He was sure to wear a beanie, and you knew it would look cute, but you liked his hair best unbound and unhindered.

“I — I think so,” you said, and you realized it wasn't that convincing. “If I can still go. If you want me to.”

Danny and the boys were going to a staff party at the haunted house they worked for, a midnight glow-in-the-dark paintball extravaganza in the haunted woods on the property. He'd asked you a few days ago if you wanted to join and you'd declined, feeling like it might be a little much for you, but now that he was getting ready to go you suddenly didn't want to miss out on the fun.

“Of course you can still go,” he said easily, and you were glad to know he wasn't regretting extending the invitation. “I’d like it if you did. But it’s... well, it's meant to be kind of scary, kitkat.”

You stood up straighter. “I know. I think I can handle it. I want to try.”

He softened then, giving you an amused smile.

“Okay, buddy,” he said, using his other silly little nickname for you. “Good on you for being brave. Let's give it a try.”

You glowed with excitement and pride. “Really?” You were no dummy; you knew you'd be a bit of a hindrance just because you weren't very good, not to mention your scaredy-cat tendencies to anything even mildly spooky. “I don't want to... be in the way. I've never played paintball before.”

“You won't be in the way,” he assured you kindly. “I want you there, and so do the guys. And there's gonna be people who've never played before. It'll be fun.”

“Okay,” you said brightly, choosing to believe him even if he was biased because he loved you. But then, you were a little crestfallen — “I don't have any equipment, though. I guess I should have thought of that.”

He waved you off. “I have an extra gun, and I'm sure one of the twins’ extra vests will fit you. We can probably rustle up a helmet from somebody. All you gotta do is dress warm and look cute.”

You smiled up at him. “I think I can handle that.”

He chuckled and kissed your nose. “I think so too. Go get dressed, kitkat. All black so you don't make yourself an easy target.”

He was already dressed head to toe in black, and he cut a fine figure in his dark jeans and thermal shirt. You rifled through your dresser and found a suitable outfit, and you watched him pack the last of his things in the mirror as you braided your hair.

“Ready?” you asked as he zipped up his duffel bag.

He cracked a grin. “Ready. Let's hit it.”

You blasted some rock n roll favorites from your Halloween playlist on the drive, “Runnin’ with the Devil” and “Bark at the Moon”, both of you belting out the tunes as the brisk wind whipped your hair and brought a flush to your cheeks. You decided that you weren't going to chicken out, no matter how intimidating a battle in the middle of the haunted woods sounded, and were hyped up and ready by the time you got there.

“Kitkat!” Josh tossed you a vest as you neared the bonfire where he and Sam were getting warm and outfitted. “Glad you decided to come. Jake went to find you a helmet.”

Danny helped you strap on the vest and showed you how to use the paintball gun, demonstrating where the trigger was, how to refill the hopper, and how to turn the safety off once the game started. He put a refill of paintballs in your vest and made sure everything was snug and comfortable.

“Good?” he asked.

You nodded. “Good.” Jake returned with a helmet for you, and you put it on and looked up at Danny through your mask.

“How do I look?” you asked.

He smirked. “Like a little assassin, kitkat.” He tapped a gloved finger against the brim of your mask. “You'll do great.”

A whistle blew from the woods, indicating that the game was about to start, and the five of you put strips of reflective orange tape on your vests to show what team you were on. The other team, you'd been told, had yellow tape, and you reminded yourself to only shoot at them. You were a little worried you'd get discombobulated and shoot one of your own team members, but you'd try your best.

Danny put on his helmet, and his skull-shaped black mask was spooky in the firelight. Though he'd been handsome to you earlier, outfitted and confident and big, he looked downright scary with the mask on.

You smiled a little. You had some experience with Danny looking intimidating behind a mask, and that had turned out alright. This probably would too.

You stuck close by his side as you tramped through the woods to your team's starting point, listening to the chatter of excited players and the nightly cacophony of the woods. Owls and crickets and breeze-swept branches made the woods come alive, and despite the effectively haunting atmosphere, you were excited to play and see how well you'd do. A nervous anticipation sent a cool tingling through your fingers, and you gripped the gun more tightly than Danny had showed you to.

“Um, Danny?” you asked when you stopped, looking up at his mask.

“Hm? You alright?”

You nodded. You wished you could see his face.

“Can you... can you stay with me? For the first round, anyway?” You knew he probably wanted to run off and play Black Ops with his friends and not be slowed down sticking with you, but you'd get lost and freaked out in a second without him.

He leaned down to bonk his helmet gently against yours.

“Yes. Of course.”

You giggled. “Thanks.”

The ref on your side reastated the rules and boundaries, pointing out your team's home base that would serve as a resupply point, a medical tent should anyone need it, and the place you were supposed to go if you got out. There would be no mistaking who was hit and who wasn't; the paint was glow in the dark, and it would show in fluorescent green. Otherwise, you were on your own to play as long as you lasted. It was a game of capture the flag, so you were to be on the lookout for a glowing banner emblazoned with a witch's hat; your team's was branded with a ghost.

“Players ready?” the ref asked. “Three, two, one — ”

An air horn sounded, startling you, and every member of your team took off at a run to find cover and go after the flag. The loud popping of offensive fire filled the woods almost immediately, players already meeting each other out in the woods, and you suddenly became a lot less confident than you had been.

Danny hadn't run off with everyone else, patiently waiting for you, and you were so thankful for your very kind boyfriend when you knew he wanted to be out there in the thick of it. He held out his hand.

“You got this, kitkat. I'm right here with you.”

You put your hand in his and let him lead you at a jog through the woods he knew by heart. Most of the players did, since they worked here, but some stragglers seemed either as unsure as you were or just plain foolish, standing out in the open. You caught a glimpse of yellow tape, but before you could even raise your gun, Danny had dispatched the player and sent them back to their base groaning and cursing their bad luck.

“Come on,” he said, taking your hand again, his voice muffled through the mask. “I know a few likely places they could have put their flag. Let's go.”

You roused to the thrill of the game as you went quickly through the woods, dodging trees and roots and decorations of various shapes and sizes: vampire statues, headstones, giant looming skeletons. Leaves crunched under your feet, telltale even under the constant sound of gunfire, giving away people's positions left and right. Danny took the other team's players out with startling accuracy, and though you fired a few times, you only maged to hit trees or some set pieces.

Danny pulled you behind a huge rock, one that usually served as a jumping-off point, literally, for some ghoul or goblin to scare passers-by during operating hours. You caught your breath as he took a look around, careful to be quiet.

“Their flag's definitely over this way,” he said in a low voice when he rejoined you. “There’s too many people grouped up here for it not to be. We just gotta find out way around to it.” He tugged a little on the strap of your vest.

“Still good?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you said, grinning behind your mask. “It’s kinda fun.”

He laughed. “I told you it would be. You stay here a minute. I'm gonna go scout out a little further ahead.”

You didn't exactly love him leaving you in the dark, noisy woods, but you didn't protest, happy to let him have a little solo macho time. You waited in your hiding spot for him to come back, listening to the excited laughter, the happy yelling, the calls back and forth of friends as they played. It soothed your nerves a little to hear that it was a game, really, and that all the fear and adrenaline was in good fun.

All of a sudden, somebody skidded around the corner of your rock, and you raised your gun and fired without thinking.

“Damn!” The other player gave a groan of pain at the impact, and though you were relived it wasn't Danny you'd shot, you noticed with chagrin that it was somebody wearing orange tape.

“Oh, I'm sorry!” you said sincerely. “I didn't see your tape. I'm really sorry.”

The other player huffed and sat next to you, leaning against the rock.

“Kitkat?” he asked. You recognized that distinctive Kiszka accent. “It’s Sam.”

You felt marginally better then, knowing Sam would forgive your shoot-first-ask-questions-later strategy.

“Aw, Sam, I'm sorry I shot you. You scared me to death.”

He laughed. “Yeah, you scared me too. Good hit, though.” He looked around. “Where’s Danny?”

“He went to look for the flag,” you said. “He thinks it's around here somewhere.”

Sam nodded. “It is. Gonna be a hell of a time gettin’ to it though. Jake got hit, but Josh is still out there as far as I know.”

Danny came around the corner then, and both you and Sam raised your guns before you saw it was him. He held up his hands.

“Just me,” he panted. “Don’t shoot.”

“Well, she already shot me,” Sam groused good-naturedly. “Hey, you got hit.”

Danny’s hand hovered over the bright green paint on his chest. “Yeah, I know. It's wicked over there. That's definitely where they have the flag. Too bad we can't get it.”

“We could,” Sam said. “Respawn’s only ten minutes.”

“Really?” Danny asked, brightening. “Oh. I must have missed that. Let's get back to base, then.”

Though you weren't hit, you went with them back to base; you could still play, and you actually managed to shoot one of the opposing team members as you made your way back through the woods.

“Hey, good shot,” Danny praised. “We might make a paintball player out of you yet, kitkat.”

Glowing with pride and pleasure, you came into the warm circle of light at the home base and joined the players waiting to respawn. You took off your masks and caught your breath, Danny and Sam wiping the paint off their vests and letting the ref know they were staring their wait time.

Danny bummed a cigarette off of somebody and came to stand with you, Sam, and Jake, who was animatedly telling the story of how he'd been shot.

“I have, like, four minutes left,” he said. “Then I’m going right back where I was. There's only one guard over there, and he's the one that shot me, but now that I know here's there, I can take him out.”

Danny looped a thumb around the strap of his vest and exhaled smoke through his nose. “Where is it? Looked to me like they had people everywhere.”

“By the graveyard,” he said eagerly, and you could tell Danny knew exactly where that was. “Come that way if you can, but — ” He looked a little smug. “I’ll probably have the flag by then.”

“Yeah, but you gotta get it back here, Jakey,” Sam teased. “Think you can manage that?”

“Come with me and be my bodyguard,” he joked right back. “I could use a few bodies between me and a paintball, Sammy.”

Josh came tramping in as Danny finished his cigarette, looking a little worse for wear with paint splattered on his shoulder, his chest, and his leg.

“Damn, Josh,” Sam laughed. “You got your ass kicked, huh?”

Josh sat down heavily on the bench, gratefully accepting a bottle of water from his twin.

“Yeah, well, some moron shot me while I was on my way back,” he said. He swilled the water. “As if I wasn't bright fucking green already.”

You all laughed and commiserated with him, Sam distracting him from his losses by regaling him with the tale of being shot by his own team member.

“And you'll never guess who it was,” he said.

Josh raised a brow and looked at Danny.

“Wasn’t me!” he protested with a laugh. “Kitkat’s the sharpshooter, not me.”

You took the subsequent ribbing with grace.

“He scared me!” you said, laughing. “Running around the corner like a bat out of hell!”

“Now, Sam,” Josh said, pointing an accusing water bottle at his brother. “You should know better than to scare our poor kitkat.”

Jake took his leave when his time was up, telling you all to come join him at the graveyard, and pretty soon it was time for you, Danny, and Sam to get back to the game as well. Josh wished you good luck, saying he'd join the group guarding your team's flag, and you headed out into the fray again.

“I’m gonna go by Jason’s house,” Sam said, indicating the path to the Friday the 13th set. “I know Jake said to go the other way, but hey, no guts, no glory.”

You parted ways and took off towards the graveyard, Danny leading you down the path, weaving between trees and narrowly avoiding being shot several times. Somebody jumped out at you from behind a headstone, but Danny stepped in front of you and took the player out before they could even shoot.

“My hero,” you said dreamily.

He laughed. “Come on, trouble.”

You were quiet and cautious as you neared the location of the flag, dodging the guards and hiding behind every bit of cover you could find. The action wasn't so feverish here, though the air was more tense; guards roamed around, almost a dozen of them, and you and Danny were furtive and careful as you made your way around them.

“If I get shot,” you whispered, “I’ll go back alone and you keep looking for the flag.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, I'm sure. You have to be at Jake to it.”

He breathed a laugh and patted your helmet. “Okay. Good deal.”

You met Jake a few minutes later, trudging upright and without caution back the way you'd come, green paint glowing on his thigh. You caught his attention, and he was more wary as he hunkered down beside you and Danny.

“The flag is right there,” he said, motioning over the little rise in front of you. “Go get it. Be careful. I’ll wait here and guard you while we go back.”

You pulled at Danny's sleeve. “Do you want me to stay too?” You were worried you'd slow him down as he went to get the flag, but he shook his head.

“No way,” he said. “You’re gettin’ that flag, kitkat. You'll be like the final girl in a paintball slasher movie. You're gonna win this whole thing.”

You doubted it, but his conviction was sweet all the same. You held onto the back of his vest as you walked quickly over the rise, keeping low, and he reached a hand back to reassure you.

Then, like a bright green beacon right in the middle of the graveyard, was the flag with the starry witch hat. None of the guards suspected anyone would be that close, so you were free to take it and get back to your hiding spot without being caught. You could hardly believe that you'd gotten it, and Jake almost gave you position away in his excitement when you showed him.

“Holy shit!” he said, a yell contained in a fervent whisper. “You got it! Hide it under your vest, kitkat, before somebody sees it!”

“Are we allowed to hide it?” you asked.

“Yeah,” Danny answered, “but whoever brings the flag in can't be hit. Stay close, kitkat.”

You shoved the flag between your shirt and your vest, hiding the bright green, and the three of you set off at a run back to base. You heard when someone realized the flag was gone, and the three of you moved even quicker; you were being chased now, shots coming rapidly from behind you. Jake was already hit, so he moved behind you to take the brunt of it; you could see the light of the base when Danny gave a grunt of pain and stumbled forward.

“‘S okay, keep going,” he said, a little winded from the impact. The player who'd shot him was coming up close now, but they didn't shoot; maybe they didn't know you were there, and Danny and Jake were glowing already.

“There’s somebody else with them,” the other player said to a companion close behind. Thinking fast, you ran your sleeve over Danny's back and held up your hand.

“I’m hit too,” you said, the paint glowing as evidence.

The players let you go, fooled by the ruse and confident that even if you did have the flag, it would have to be returned if you showed up hit. Danny and Jake barely contained their glee.

“I can't believe that worked!” Danny said, boyishly pounding you on the back when you were a safe distance from the other players. “Holy shit, kitkat! That was incredible!”

You wobbled a little under the strength of his pride and praise, grinning up at him.

“Let’s go!” Jake urged. “We’re almost there!”

You ran headlong towards the base, caution thrown to the wind as you were back among your own team, the boys whooping and hollering as you barreled in.

“We got it!” Danny yelled as you came into base. “We got the flag!”

The players gathered close around you.

“Show ‘em,” he said eagerly.

You held their attention and pulled the flag out with a flourish.

“Voilà,” you said dramatically. “The witch’s hat!”

Your team erupted into cheers, losing themselves in the excitement of victory, and only quieted down when the ref came to examine the win.

“You have paint on you,” he said, looking at your sleeve with a critical eye. “If you were hit, it doesn't count.”

“She wasn't hit,” Jake said, dragging Danny around to show off the smudged mark on his back. “She put Danny's paint on her to trick the guys who were chasing us, and it worked.”

The paint showed clear evidence that you hadn't been hit, only smeared with paint, and the ref declared it a victory with a blast of the air horn. Your team cheered and crowded you, Danny, and Jake, lauding you as the conquering heroes.

Sam and Josh came in from the playing field, fairly tackling you as they celebrated your victory. Buffeted on all sides by fervor and excitement, you were glad to feel Danny's steadying hand on your back; he handed the flag off to a bunch of players who ran to gloat at the other team, pulling you close to his side.

“Still good?” he asked. His smile was warm as he looked down at you.

You beamed. “Good? I feel amazing! I am the final girl, like you said! I can't believe I won!”

He laughed and gave you a victory kiss. “I can, kitkat. I knew you could do it.”

When things had settled back down and everyone was wiped of paint from the previous game, the flags were hidden again and another game started. You decided to stay with Josh for guard duty and let Danny run free, and you knew he was having a good time with Jake and Sam. You and Josh did a fine job as guards, taking people out as they tried to capture your flag, Josh giving you pointers on your aim until it wasn't half bad. Some sneaky player eventually got both of you from behind, though, and you could do nothing but watch as they made off with the flag.

“Maybe they'll get hit,” you said hopefully.

A few moments later, a victory roar was heard from the opposite base, and Josh gave you a wry smile.

“Or not,” he said cheerfully. He put his arm around your shoulders. “You still won the first one, though, so I'd say we did alright.”

The game was slated to go on as long as people wanted to play, but you and the boys took your leave when that round was over. Cleaning and packing up your gear, you decided to meet at the diner for a celebratory dinner in the wee hours of the morning.

Over cups of decaf and plates of wonderfully greasy diner food, the five of you sat comfortably squeezed in the cracked vinyl booth and relished in your victory. “Time Warp” from Rocky Horror warbled from the ancient jukebox in the corner, and as you sat shoulder to shoulder with the twins and across from Sam and Danny, you felt yourself smile at the comfort and closeness of your little family.

While the Kiszkas replayed every moment of the glorious battle, you and Danny snuck out to the parking lot for a smoke. It was a bit of a tradition now, and you snuggled close in the warm pools of light spilling from the diner windows.

“I think we should make this a new tradition,” Danny said. “You winning the annual paintball game.”

You laughed. “We can try, anyway.” You tucked your hand under his jacket. “Thanks for inviting me. And for staying with me.”

“I love you,” he said simply. “I’m glad you came.”

You watched the cars go by, said hello to the diner cat who often roamed around looking for scraps of bacon or a friendly pet. Danny pulled another cigarette from his pocket.

“You want to see a magic trick?” he asked. “It’s almost as cool as when you pulled the flag out.”

You watched his hand. “Sure. Show me.”

He did some fancy moves with the cigarette as you wondered what exactly you were watching for, and you were so busy watching his hands that you didn't notice what the real trick was.

“Abracadabra,” he said, and snuck a kiss.

You giggled and pushed him away. “That was a terrible magic trick!” you protested.

He smiled. “So you don't want me to do it again?”

You wound your arms around his neck. “I didn't say that.”

He kissed you and held you close, and you decided it wasn't such a bad magic trick after all.

“I love you,” he said sweetly. “Happy Halloween, my final girl. I hope you survive every movie and take me with you.”

You laughed and looked up into his beloved face, thinking you'd much rather be in the romcom you were in right now, but with Danny, you'd be happy with anything, even a slasher flick.

“Aw, Danny.” You gave him a kiss. “Me too.”

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#it's not suuuuper halloween-y but i still think it's cute :) it's essentially me wanting to play paintball w the guys hehe #danny wagner x reader #danny wagner fluff #danny wagner fanfiction #gvf fanfiction #greta van fleet fanfiction #gvfhalloweenfics #maddie writes stuff!#kitkat 'verse #danny x kitkat

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hedawanheda · 1 year ago

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secret recipe- prologue

Clarke has been given six months to find a serious and genuine relationship or else her father will hand over the company to Cage Wallace. Lexa just wants to cook.

Lexa is the Griffin’s personal chef.

Clarke Griffin is a leader. She’s a girl who knows what she wants and she doesn’t care how she gets it. When she talks, people listen. When she walks by, people stare. She exudes a confidence and energy that makes everyone who knows her respect her, while also fearing her a little. Her life is dedicated to her work, the Fortune 500 company her family had built from the ground up.

So when her father announces at his retirement party (that she flew all the way from California to attend and moved back home for this promotion) that his temporary successor would be Cage Wallace, she is understandably pissed.

“Don’t cause a scene,” her mother whispered harshly to her as she watched Cage walk up and shake her father’s hand. Clarke was in utter disbelief, waiting for her to wake up from her nightmare or for Ashton Kutcher to come out and say she was punk’d.

Cage caught her eye, sending her a gloating smile as he posed for the papers. Clarke felt the heat rise to her cheeks as her anger began to take over, clenching her glass so tightly that she was surprised it didn’t break. That should be her up there.

As the applause for Cage continued, Clarke downed the rest of her drink. Then the rest of her mom’s. Then she flagged down a waiter who was passing out shots to celebrate Cage’s promotion and Jake’s retirement.

And then she doesn’t remember the rest of her night.

She wakes up in her childhood bedroom which she miraculously got to somehow in her drunken state. The sun shines into her eyes way too early, rousing her from her deep slumber. Her rumbling stomach, pounding head, and dry mouth are too much to ignore, so she dragged herself out of her bed and trudged her way down to the kitchen in search of a greasy breakfast and some aspirin.

She opened the refrigerator and let the cold air hit her, taking a deep sigh and rubbing her forehead before searching for the orange juice. When she found it, she took a swig from the bottle, letting the citrusy flavor cost her parched tongue.

“Good morning, Miss Clarke,”

Clarke dropped the bottle of juice, startled by the other presence in the room. She was so hungover that she didn’t realize that she wasn’t alone.

“Holy shit- Lexa?!” she gaped. Clarke hadn’t seen Lexa since the girl went off to culinary school in Paris a decade ago.

“Welcome home,” Lexa smiled, ignoring the blonde’s disheveled appearance. Clarke was grateful for that, considering she was in a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and an old oversized college sweatshirt. Her hair was piled into a messy bun, and she undoubtedly had bags under her eyes from her late night. “Can I get something started for you?” Lexa asked politely.

“Huh?” Clarke was so shocked from seeing her old friend that she didn’t take in her appearance. Lexa was wearing a white chef’s coat and black pants, her hair tied back in braids. She was standing behind the kitchen counter, hands folded behind her back with an array of skillets and knives laid out in front of her.

“For breakfast,” Lexa explained patiently. “What would you like?”

“What are you doing here?” Clarke asked, answering Lexa’s question with one of her own. “The last time I heard you were at some Michelin star restaurant in the French Riviera.”

Lexa pretended that she didn’t hear that. “There’s pancakes or waffles, I could also do crepes if you wanted those. Omelets, eggs Benedict, frittata-“

“Wait, hold on-“

“Oatmeal, French toast, bagels-“

“Can you just stop for a minute-“

“Your dad has me hide his sugary cereal from your mom, I can dig that out-“

“Lexa! Stop listing breakfast food!” Clarke said, exasperated. “What are you doing in my house?”

Lexa paused, looked down and avoiding Clarke’s eyes. “Isn’t it obvious? I work here,”

“But… why?” Clarke was genuinely confused. Why would someone give up a great and promising career to cook for her parents?

She didn’t get her answer, because her father entered the kitchen with a bright and cheery smile on his face. Clarke instantly scowled. She may not have remembered how most of her night had gone, but she remembered being burned by the person she called her father.

“Good morning, sweetie. Good morning, Lexa,” he said gleefully. He walked over and kissed the top of Clarke’s head, ignoring his daughter’s sour face. “Isn’t today a glorious day?”

“I see you’re enjoying your first day of retirement, sir,” Lexa grinned at him. “Shall I prepare your usual?”

“Please. But add extra bacon, I feel like celebrating,”

“Didn’t you and your bestie Cage do enough of that last night?” Clarke grumbled. Jake turned to her, smiling, and placed his hands on both sides of her face.

“Lighten up, sweetie. I’m sure once you have some food in you, you’ll be happier,”

“Food won’t make me happy,” Clarke said through squished cheeks. She removed her father’s hands from her face, angrily crossing her arms. Jake chuckled at his daughter’s death glare.

“You’ve haven’t had Lexa’s cooking in a long while. She’s like a food Midas, anything she makes turns to gold,”

“What happened to Alie?” Jake’s smile fell while Lexa looked down at her hands. “What?” Clarke asked again, looking between her father and Lexa. It was weird seeing Lexa at the house and not having her mom there, the chef the Griffins had since before Clarke was born.“What are you not telling me?”

“My mother passed away last year,” Lexa said quietly, not meeting Clarke’s eye. “Cancer,”

This morning has turned out to be quite the surprising event for the blonde.

“Excuse me?!” Clarke said angrily, turning to her father. “You didn’t think of mentioning this to me over the past year? That the woman I’ve known for as long as I’ve known you died?”

“In his defense, she wanted to keep her illness private,” Lexa explained calmly. When Clarke looked at her, her gaze softened. She wasn’t the one Clarke was rightfully angry towards. “The funeral was a small affair. Just family,”

Clarke frowned. Wasn’t she considered family? “That still doesn’t mean it was okay not to mention it to me,”

“You’re right,” Jake sighed, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry, that was wrong of me. Why don’t we sit down and have Lexa make us a nice breakfast. I’m sure there’s something on your mind,”

“Why did you pass over me for the promotion?” Clarke asked as Lexa slid plates of scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast in front of her and Jake. “Why did you choose Cage of all people?”

“I know what you think of him, but he’s actually a brilliant man,” Jake started digging into his meal, talking with his mouth full. “Difficult, but brilliant,”

“But I don’t understand. You’ve been preparing me to take over for you since I started at the company. And I actually worked my way up from the bottom,”

“Cage is only a temporary solution,” Jake explained. “He will be interim CEO for the next six months before I decide if you’re fit enough to take over,”

“And what do you consider that to be?”

“How do I say this?” Jake rubbed his chin. “Clarke, you need a life,”

Clarke looked and felt offended. “What are you talking about? I have a life,”

“You’re a twenty eight year old workaholic who’s never had a serious partner before. Your mother and I are worried about you,”

“And where’s Mom now? Work.” Clarke snapped. “And the partner thing? A little misogynistic, don’t you think?”

Jake sighed. “Honey, don’t start. If I gave you the position right away, you would never find time to settle down,”

“So what are you saying? I can’t get the position I earned until I get hitched?”

“Not exactly,”

”Not exactly?”

“Well, not married per say, but a relationship, yes,”

Clarke stared at her father, eyes widened in disbelief. “You’re serious,”

“I am,” Jake nodded. “You need to get out there and actually live in the world, Clarke. There’s so much more to life than an office.”

“I do yoga,” Clarke pointed out. “Work’s not my entire life,”

“Honey, I don’t think you realize how sad that sounds,”

Clarke slumped down in her chair. “I could just hire someone, you know,”

“I know. But I’m using the honor code here. I just want you to be happy, to settle down,”

“I can be happy and not be in a relationship,”

“But you’re not,” Jake folded his hands on the table, pushing his empty plate away. “Just try. Put yourself out there. As long as I see you’re at least making an effort, the gig is yours.” This made Clarke sit up straighter in her chair.

“Really?” she asked. “So I have to just go on a few dates?”

“Emphasis on the effort, Clarke. And besides, six months is a long time, who knows? Maybe you’ll find your person,” Jake smiled warmly at his daughter, who rolled her eyes. “You’re a little too old for that now,”

“And I’m also a little too old for you to be telling me what to do,”

Jake sighed. “This isn’t a punishment. I really do want what’s best for you Clarke. Six months. That’s all I’m asking for,”

“Fine,” Clarke huffed, throwing down her fork on her partially eaten plate. She had lost her appetite, no matter how good it looked. “I’ll agree to this, no matter how dumb it is. It’s not like I’m actually going to fall in love just because you gave me a deadline.” Jake smiled, doing a little happy dance in his chair.

“I think this is going to be good for you, Clarke,” he said. Lexa came in and began clearing away the dishes as quietly as she could, trying to go unnoticed. Clarke watched her, not wanting to look at her father’s triumphant grin. She didn’t realize her eyes were trailing the girl until Lexa left and her father cleared his throat. When she turned back to him, his grin was faint, but there was a twinkle in his eye as he looked between Clarke and the doorway where his chef exited.

“Something amusing?” Clarke asked.

Jake chuckled. “No, nothing at all,”

read on ao3!

#it’s suuuuper short i just wanted to get the gist out there before i dive in!!#clexa #clexa fanfic #clarke griffin #commander lexa #clarke x lexa #fic: secret recipe

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