#and she flat out ignored me and my coworkers were giving me a panicked look like dont do it

[tvdfan23]

I'm probably gonna get my butt kicked tomorrow 🙃

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

Hayloft p.3

Pairing: Arvin Russell x F!Reader

Summary: Your dad brings home his new coworker, Arvin Russell, telling you that he’ll be living with the two of you for a while. While attempting to keep Arvin from seeing the disfunction of your relationship with your father, the two of you grow closer than you thought. (Inspired by “Hayloft” by Mother Mother, though that’ll really only be one chapter later on so I don’t know if it really counts…)

Warnings: Mentions of suicide, death, abuse, and sexual assault (depictions of none, though)

Word Count: 5.0k

A/N: I am so sorry for how long this took to publish! Work and school have been CRAZY!

Citation: (This is absolutely cited incorrectly but the poem included was found at this link!) https://rememberingthesixties.wordpress.com/2014/11/15/love-poems

Read the Previous Chapters!

Part 1  Part 2

_________________________________

“No! No! No! I ain’t got time for this today!” You groaned, twisting your key in the ignition only to hear the engine struggle to turn over. You were already running late to work, thanks to you misplacing your shoes, purse, and keys all on the same morning. When it was really only just you, your dad, and Arvin living in your home, it was ridiculous to be losing things as often as you did. It’s not like they were touching them. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think there was some gremlin that lived in the linen closet and hid your things to make life more difficult.

Of course, your car wouldn’t work either. What a fantastic beginning to the day.

You weren’t even sure what could be wrong with the car. It had worked just fine yesterday. There was no reason for it to suddenly fall apart on you. But alas, after several minutes of trying to start the car and checking what basic things you knew about under the hood to no avail, you gave out a groan of anger, “Damnit!”

With an angry kick of your old tire, you stomped back into the house. “Everythin' okay?” Arvin asked from the dining room table, where he sat eating a plate of toast and eggs.

“I was already running late this morning and now my stupid car won’t start,” you grumbled, throwing your purse onto the open chair and taking the phone off the receiver on the wall with more aggression than you intended. You were spinning the dial and putting in the phone number to the diner you worked at.

Arvin leaned forward in his seat, “I can take a look at it for you, if you’d like.”

“That would be great if you’re willing to but-” You began to answer but you stopped abruptly and held up a finger to him when a voice answered on the phone.

“Molly’s Diner. How can I help ya?” A woman’s voice that you recognized as your coworker Charlene asked from the other side.

“Hey, Charlene?” You asked, shooting Arvin an apologetic look for the sudden interruption. She sounded surprised to hear your greeting on the other end.

“Where you at, girl?” She questioned, the ambient wound of the busy diner in the background.

You leaned against the wall, gripping the phone with both hands, “I know I’m late! I’m sorry! My car broke down and I don’t think I can make it-”

“I can give you a ride if you need.” Arvin offered quiet enough for Charlene to not hear him on the other end but you perked up.

“Wait, hang on-” You interrupted Charlene just as she began to respond, “I can actually get a ride in.” You mouthed a sincere thank you to Arvin while holding onto the phone with both hands, feeling a slight glimmer of hope in your otherwise crappy day.

“You know what? Don’t even worry about it. You’re already so late just take the day off and get your car fixed. Just be here tomorrow, alright?” You could almost hear the way Charlene’s hand was waving dismissively from the other end of the phone.

You sighed in relief, “Thank you so much. I’ll make it up to you!” After a few brief goodbyes, you hung the phone up on the receiver.

Arvin stood up and placed his plate in the sink, “So are you needin’ a ride to work?”

You shook your head, “No, Charlene said to just take the day off ‘n get the car fixed. Thank you, though. It really is sweet of you to offer.”

Arvin only shrugged, “C’mon, after all you done for me, givin’ you a ride into town really ain’t much at all. I’d still be more than happy to take a look under your hood if you’d like.”

You blushed and tried to suppress the immature giggles that threatened to slip out at the way he worded his offer. His face visibly paled and began to stumble over his words, “‘m sorry! I didn’t mean for it to come out like that! I didn’t mean take a look under your… erm. I ain’t too good with my words sometimes. Forgive me.”

You laughed outright now, stepping forward and trying to pull his nervously fidgeting arms down, “It’s okay! You’re fine! You’re fine! I would love it if you looked under my hood.” You teased, overexaggerating the way you emphasized his words, throwing them back at him.

He rolled his eyes at you, an embarrassed smile pulling the corner of his lips upwards, before looking back down at you. It was then that you realized just how close you and Arvin were, your fingers still loosely touching his forearms where they had fallen. You looked up into his eyes - those soulful brown eyes - and found yourself wanting to know everything that they’d seen.

That familiar heat rose to your cheeks and you pulled your hands back, running them up and down the white apron you wore over teal uniform, “Well, um, I’m gonna go get changed outta this if I ain’t gotta wear it for work and then I can help you out with the car?”

Arvin’s hands found their way to his pockets and he nodded in understanding.

You had changed into a pair of jeans with a buttoned up blouse before jogging out front to find Arvin already bent over the exposed inner workings of your car. “How’s it lookin’?” You asked, slowing to a pace until you reached the car. You landed beside him, hands falling on the dirty metal as you leaned over to see the mechanics. He fiddled with a few things here and there, things that you didn’t quite understand. You were good with the basics of fixing your car. You could change the oil and fix a flat but when it came to the more complicated stuff, you were a little less well-versed.

He leaned back and wiped his greasy hands on each other, “I think I have the problem pinpointed. ‘M gonna need to head into town and get a part but it’s not a hard fix at all.”

“Thank you so much for doin’ this. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” You took a few steps back as Arvin lowered the hood, letting it fall the last few inches with a heavy thud.

“Yeah, well I’m happy I can finally be some help ‘round here to you.”

You rolled your eyes, following Arvin back to the house, “Please, you are plenty of help ‘round here. More help than I’ve gotten in years.”

Arvin gave you a knowing tight-lipped smile and nodded once the two of you made it through the front door. He didn’t say anything for a moment but there was a silent understanding. “You need anything while I’m out?” He asked, changing the subject.

You shook your head, “No, I’m alright. Thank you though.”

It was rare that you actually had time to yourself. While Arvin was gone, you found yourself wandering around confused for a short while until the buzzing silence wore on your ears. You sat on the couch and pulled the radio over closer to you on the coffee table, looking over your shoulder as if someone would catch you at any moment.

This was one of your secrets that you held close to you, knowing your father would make fun of you if he ever found out. Moon River had been a favorite radio program of yours since you discovered it while tuning through the stations a year back. It was full of romantic poetry and slow beautiful music. Everything you dreamt about but knew you could never have, not while you were stuck here at least. But a girl could dream.

“Tonight’s love poem is written by Betty Hayes Albright. We hope you enjoy.

They tell me not to write of love

but what else can I write –

when love is in my heart and soul

and mind both day and night?

“You’re just too young and you can’t know

of love,” (does anyone?)

“you can’t profess such knowledge –

stick to verse and pun.”

.

They tell me that, and say love poems

are worn out through and through

but I can’t agree with them,

for me love is brand new.

Feelings in me can’t stay down,

my love for him I can’t ignore,

somehow it’s got to be expressed,

“I’ve got no lock upon my door.”

.

To those who stick to subjects

of the sky and stars, of joy and pain

I write my poems of love because

my heart’s love-blood shall never drain.

Perhaps they too shall love again.”

You sighed as it came to an end and you couldn’t help but see Arvin’s face in your mind’s eye. Love had always felt like something you could only dream of. It was a “one day when I get out of here” thought, not something you saw yourself obtaining for a long time, if ever. Now with Arvin… well you weren’t sure if you could call it love but it sure as hell was the closest thing to it you’d experienced.

Since the words were spoken, they kept swirling around your head: “When love is in my heart and soul; and mind both day and night.” Since his arrival two months ago, Arvin had been that very subject on your mind almost constantly. He was the first face you hoped to see every morning and the last one you wanted to see before bed. Your entire mood lit up every time he walked into the room, even when you were stressed from work or your father. It hadn’t been hard for you to realize that he became the lighthouse in the rocky ocean, promising solace and providing light in the storm that could be your life at times. It was hard to not fall for that.

"Never heard that one before." You whipped around in a panicked start to see Arvin standing in the foyer. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you."

You shook your head and tucked your hair behind your ears, "No, no, you're fine. You read a lot of poetry?" You watched Arvin shake his head and walk into the room. He stopped on the other side of the couch and you climbed up, placing your knees on the cushions and leaning over the back of the couch to look up at him.

"I don't like poetry all that much, at least the ones we read in high school… but I like that one." He looked down at where his hand gripped the back of the couch and his weight shifted on his feet.

Your eyes fell to his hands in an attempt to hide the blush that crept up on your cheeks that really had no place being there. "Yeah… me too. It reminds me that there is real love out there in the world."

A silence settled over the room as your eyes anxiously dragged up Arvin’s body till they settled on his eyes but you found yourself unable to hold his gaze. "I, erm, I got the part I need for your car." He took a step back and lifted the hand that wasn't on the couch, tossing the metal mechanism in his hand.

"Oh," you pressed yourself away from the couch and moved back to stand, "thank you for runnin’ all the way out into town."

He gave you a small smile and a nod, “It’s my pleasure. I’m gonna go see if this fixes the problem.”

***

"That should be it," Arvin slammed the hood back down and wiped his hands on his jeans. "We should take her for a drive to see if she's runnin' alright now."

You nodded, "Alright. Hop in." You took the keys from your pocket and gestured to the passenger seat. Arvin climbed in and you slid into the driver's seat, turning the key. This time, the engine started up without a problem. A big smile spread across your face, "You're a miracle worker, you know that?"

Arvin shook his head, "I ain't no miracle worker. Just good with fixin' things I s'pose."

Your feet were on the brake and the clutch when you shifted into first gear and began to peel out down the long dirt driveway. You stopped at the road and looked both ways, trying to decide which way to go. You looked to your right, the road into town, and then to the left, the way to that field that was oh so special to you. You began to gnaw at your lower lip.

Did you want to show Arvin? That little clearing by the creek had been your secret getaway since you’d discovered it three years ago. You never told anybody about it and you’d never seen anyone else there when you went so, as far as you were concerned, it was yours. Your special hide away, your paradise, your escape. But since his arrival, Arvin had become just that as well.

“You alright?” He questioned, looking over at you with a vaguely concerned expression.

You looked over at him, a nervous twist to your lips, “Can I show you somewhere special?” Perhaps it was an odd question to ask, though you hadn’t thought it was until you saw the curious and somewhat confused look dawn on Arvin’s face. Nevertheless, he nodded and, with a smile, you turned left towards the field.

It was a short but otherwise successful, trouble-free drive. You slowed down and pulled off to the side of the road into the dirt shoulder. “Where are we?” Arvin asked, looking around and seeing nothing but tall grass and trees.

With an impish smile, you turned off the ignition and looked towards him, “You’ll see. C’mon!” You threw your door open and walked around the front of the car towards the passenger’s side, hanging on the passenger door when Arvin finally opened the door to exit the vehicle.

He followed you to the edge of the brush where you walked as if you knew it like home. With minimal effort, you found the overgrown path and pulled him along behind you. The road disappeared behind the two of you as you wandered beyond the tree line, tall birch trees creating a maze that you knew by heart. The path was short and you navigated it with a sixth sense until you led Arvin to a small field. There was an imperfect circle of wild grasses beside a stream that seemingly appeared from nowhere but you knew it was that time of year when the snow started melting off the mountains. Bundles of wildflowers grew mixed in the grass. Just along the bank of the crystal clear creek water was a large dogwood tree with vibrant white flowers.

“Wow…” Arvin breathed out in amazement as he tried to take in the beauty of the place.

“Pretty, ain’t it?” You asked with a smile, the wonder in his brown eyes warming your heart. You were glad that he seemed to appreciate it as much as you did.

You couldn’t wipe the smile off your face as your heart welled with happiness at his stunned reaction. He stepped in a slow circle, taking in the beautiful scenery. “It’s beautiful.”

“This is sorta my… escape from reality, I guess you could call it. I come here and I’m suddenly in a different world away from all the bullshit of life.” You reached down to run your fingers through the soft blades of grass. Arvin smirked and you looked up at him with a short breathy laugh, “What?”

He shook his head and looked down, hands buried in his pockets as always, “I think that’s the first time I ever heard you curse.”

You rolled your eyes, “I don’t do it very often. My daddy would always yell at me tellin’ me how un-ladylike it was to say bad words. Told me it made me sound ugly. I think his exact words were ‘a dirty mouth makes a dirty woman.’” Your voice dropped to mock your father.

Arvin spoke plainly, “Your pa needs to treat you better.”

You gave him a sad knowing smile and looked down at the ground, “It wasn’t always like this, y’know? I think that’s the saddest part.”

“What you mean?” Arvin asked.

You sat down on the grass, feeling the soft blades press against your skin as you sat back on your hands. Arvin followed suit, finding a comfortable spot beside you and waiting for you to continue. “When my momma was alive, he hardly ever drank. Wasn’t nothing like he is now. I think that’s the only reason I’ve put up with as much as I have. I hate seeing this miserable shell of the man I once knew but I also know that a real father wouldn’t have let himself fall into this pit - or at least stay down there long enough to practically leave his daughter to fend for herself. I just always hoped that maybe one day he’d pull through and… y’know… be my dad again.”

You laid back on the ground and stared up at the sky. The clouds passed by, white and weightless, pure and unaffected by the troubles of this world. You envied them. The way they floated along, either bringing shade and beauty to the sky or raging unapologetic storms, with no constraints as to where they could float and how they could behave… it made you wish you could be a cloud.

Arvin was silent, unsure of how to respond. He wanted to offer words of support and encouragement but he never had been too good with words. He hadn’t really been taught to talk about problems. His daddy had taught him to finish them with his fists. Finally, he sighed, looking out across the field, “I understand. I felt the same way ‘bout my daddy.”

You perched up on your elbows, “Really?”

He nodded and looked down at his leg, which he was slowly rolling side to side just to keep fidgeting in some way, “Yeah… he, uh, he changed into a totally different man after my mama died.”

You looked up at him but you could see he was trying to avoid your eyes. You rested a gentle hand on his knee, “‘M sorry, Arvin. I had no idea.”

He shook his head, “Nah, don’t be. It’s been a long time.”

“D-do you mind if I ask what happened?” You cautiously inquired but quickly added, “Of course, it’s fine if not. You just… you don’t talk much ‘bout yourself.”

Arvin took a deep breath in, “My mama died when I was ‘bout ten. Cancer took her. My daddy tried everythin’ to keep her alive but when it didn’t work… he killed ‘imself too.”

This time you were unsure of how to respond, stunned by the new information you’d just learned. “I-I’m so sorry,” you breathed out in disbelief. For some reason, you had never thought that perhaps Arvin could have had a similar childhood experience to you, like losing your mothers, but your heart went out to him.

“It took a long time for me to understand why he did what he did but I finally realized that he just loved my mama so much that he couldn’t bear to be away from her.”

“He should’ve loved you enough to stay for you.” Before you could stop yourself, the stunning but honest words slipped from your lips. You damn near stopped breathing when you realized what you said, “I’m sorry. That was out of line. I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s alright.” Arvin had been stunned by the words that came out of your mouth but he knew damn well they were only a vocalization of a thought he had had almost every day since the day his father put a bullet in his head. “I’d be lyin’ if I said I hadn’t thought the same thing before.”

A heavy silence weighed over the two of you that was only relieved by a cool breeze. “So what happened to your mama?” Arvin asked.

Your face twisted, “Labor complications. She was pregnant with my little sister. When she went into labor, things just went really wrong. She lost too much blood ‘n died. The baby died too. I think it was just too much loss at once for my daddy to handle.”

“That’s too much loss to make a child deal with on her own,” Arvin commented the same way you had earlier.

You shrugged, wavering your head from side to side. Like he’d said, you would be lying if you said you hadn’t had the same thought. “Looks like we got a lot in common.” You chuckled sadly, “I feel like I lost everyone who ever loved me. My mom, my sister, my grandparents, my dad...” Another silence settled and you waved the thought away, pushing yourself to sit up, “‘M sorry. I didn’t mean to make this all sad.”

Arvin shook his head, “You ain’t got nothin’ to be sorry for.” He paused, hesitant to continue. He hadn’t talked to anybody about what happened back in Coal Creek and Knockemstiff but something was strongly compelling him to. Maybe it was a bad idea to continue but he did, “I had a sister once too.”

Your mouth fell slightly in surprise and you let out a heavy breath, “You did?” The use of the words had and did instead are have and do were not lost on you and you couldn’t help but wonder what had happened.

Arvin swallowed hard and nodded, “Yeah… she, uh, she got into some trouble with this no good preacher that came into town. She was just so lonely, reminds me a lot o' you, but when he saw that and he took advantage of her. Took everythin’ he wanted and when she got into trouble he just told her she was crazy.” He paused for a moment, the memories of his sister flowing through his head, “Found her hangin’ in the shed.”

You were dumbfounded by the story you’d just been told. Anger and sadness were clear in Arvin’s voice despite his attempt to hold on, though you had a feeling that just the way he had been telling you about it meant that he had shared more of himself than he ever intended to . You struggled to wrap your brain around the tragedy he had just shared. “What’s her name?” You finally asked after a few moments of silence.

Arvin looked out across the field again and then back at you, “Lenora.”

“Lenora,” you repeated, “That’s a pretty name.” Arvin only nodded wordlessly. Again, another pause before you continued, “You said it was some preacher that got her in trouble? What happened with that? I mean, you knew? Didn’t anyone else? Is he in jail or somethin’?”

The man tensed up next to you and shot a look towards you that was sharper than one he’d ever given you before. You shrank back ever so slightly, taken off guard by his response to your seemingly simple question. “‘M sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. You don’t have to-”

“Ain’t nobody woulda believed my Lenora if she told ‘em. You know how people see women who got babies ‘n no husband. Especially since he was the preacher…” he trailed off and you were desperate to see the memories that played behind his big brown eyes, “He ain’t gonna hurt nobody no more.”

Your brows knitted together, trying to decipher what that meant. Did he go to jail? Was he fired? Was his reputation ruined? You prayed whatever justice he got was fit for something so atrocious.

"I'm sorry you lost your sister."

"I'm sorry you lost yours too."

After a long silence, Arvin laid back beside you, his body grazing your arm as he lowered himself. The two of you rested beside each other in this new understanding of each other. As you struggled to keep your attention on the sky, your eyes frequently straying from the vast blue expanse overhead to the beautiful man to your right, you couldn't help but wonder if by some insane fantasy maybe he'd be struggling to keep his eyes off of you in the same way.

"Let's talk about somethin' less depressing," you prompted, "How 'bout girlfriends? You ever had one of those?"

Arvin’s chest rose and fell heavily as he sighed, "I ain't never had much time for a girlfriend. Didn't much like anybody in my hometown anyways. Don't think nobody liked me much neither."

You rolled your eyes and audibly scoffed, "I find it hard to believe you didn't have girls bangin' down your door for a date. You're tellin' me you ain't never went out on a single date?"

He shook his head, "Nope. I mean I kissed a girl or two back when I was younger but I never had no time for datin'. Always workin' or helpin' my grandma or keepin' Lenora safe."

You rolled over onto your side and looked down at him curiously, "Where you from anyways?"

Arvin was hesitant to answer, you could see it plain as day, though you couldn't figure why. Finally, he answered, "Lived with my mama and daddy in Knockemstiff but moved to Coal Creek with my grandma after they died."

Mentally, you wracked your mental map for any memory of those towns but found none. "I don't think I ever heard of those," you commented, lying back down.

Arvin stretched his arm up and readjusted his cap, "Not many people have unless you're from near there. Just some small towns you'd drive right through and never even notice. Knockemstiff is near Meade, Ohio."

"Oh!" You exclaimed in realization, "I heard of that one!" You giggled. You didn't live anywhere near there but you'd heard the name at least from a friend whose family was from Meade.

"What about you?" He asked.

You began tracing light patterns on your stomach with your finger, "What about me? You know where I'm from."

"You ever had a boyfriend?"

You kept your eyes staring straight up. “I tried datin’ a few boys back in high school but nothing too serious. They didn’t seem to like me much,” you admitted with a shrug. At the time, it had bothered you a little that you seemed to have a hard time finding a boyfriend but now you saw that it was better this way. Younger you had spent night after night praying for a knight in shining armor that would come and whisk you away to some beautiful new life. All they had done was run for the hills because they didn’t want to deal with your daddy… not that you could blame them. You’d learned not to depend on anybody for anything, certainly not some boy to make your life better. You’d have to do that yourself.

“I think it would be impossible for somebody not to like you.” Arvin said quietly but with no ounce of dishonesty.

You rolled your eyes and rolled over to look at him, “Your just sayin’ that.” Despite the fact you swore to yourself he was only joking, blood rushed to your cheeks.

Arvin’s head turned in the crook of his arm to make eye contact with you, “I like you.”

The sweetly joking smile you had on your face fell in shock. “W-what?” You stuttered less than gracefully.

“I mean it. I like you… a lot.” After your pause, his heart fell but he didn’t need you knowing that, “You ain’t gotta say it back.”

“I like you too,” you admitted quickly before Arvin could continue to doubt himself anymore but when you looked over at him, you could see that momentary flash of doubt in his eyes. You could almost hear his thoughts behind those big brown orbs: Nah, you’re just sayin’ that. So you decided to beat him to it, “I really do.”

A warm breeze couldn’t dispel the thickness that had been created in the air between you two as you both looked at each other, trying to decipher what the other was thinking and what on Earth you were supposed to do next. Neither of you were well experienced when it came to love or romance or whatnot but experience wasn’t needed to feel some higher power, call it God or the universe, pulling the two of you together.

You weren’t quite sure when you and Arvin had started to inch your lips closer to each others’ but when they finally met in a gentle experimental kiss, it was as if fireworks had gone off. Your heart swelled with an emotion that could only be described as longing. Breathing stopped as if the feather-light touch of his lips on yours had knocked the air out of your lungs and you found yourself unable to catch it.

Both you and Arvin were hesitant to pull back and neither of you did until there was no air left in your lungs. It was one of those kisses that left you less. Breathless, speechless, thoughtless. Just less. And yet somehow more. A part of you that you had denied being empty for so long felt like it was now filled by Arvin and, perhaps that was too much credit to give for simply saying he liked you and sharing a mindblowing kiss with you, but damn.

“I-I-I uh…” You tried to stammer out something that would be fitting but there were no words.

“You ain’t gotta say nothin’.” Arvin reached over and gently brushed back a strand of hair that had fallen into your face, “But I’ll be damned if I let you go without tellin’ you you’re the most beautiful woman in the world.”

You reached up and covered his large hand with your own, twisting your wrist so that your fingers would interlock with his, “Who ever said you gotta let me go?

__________________

Taglist:

@peterswebshooters

@thisisparadisemylove

@justapurrcat

@tomsirishgirlx

@peterswebshooters

@femmme-xxx-fatale

@kittyformannn

[xaphrin]

“Do you… want to talk about it?”

Raven held her pounding head in her hands, growling as Gar inched closer to her. “No.” She did not want to talk about it. She did not want to mention it. She did not want to think about the millions of likes that Gar’s sneaky photo had gotten on Instagram. She did not want anything to do with the consequences of her mistake last night.  

“I mean…” Gar lifted his head, pretending to look pensive, even as his whole body sagged with the same traitorous hangover she was currently plagued with. He glanced back at her. “I didn’t think Dami’s mouth could hold another tongue, but… you proved me wrong.” 

She did not need to be reminded of what she did last night, and she would appreciate it if he stopped. Raven picked up her head and glared at him from underneath the shade of her eyelashes, swallowing to keep the contents of her stomach firmly inside her stomach. “I would appreciate it if you shut the fuck up.” 

“Yes, but…” Gar hummed, pretending to think again. “Your whole tongue. Like… wow. I mean, the team had a pool going as to whether or not you two were actually going to confess your feelings to each other - and I appreciate that you won me a couple hundred bucks, so thanks by the way - but no one even thought about the… uh… intensity of your confession.” He snorted. “But, FYI you’ve already got a horde of angry girls who are ready to teach you some kind of lesson. Damian was pretty popular, as long as he stayed firmly in his bachelor status.”

“We’re not dating.” Raven reached for the Gatorade that was on the counter, letting go of a low, soft groan as she swallowed a mouthful of it. “Last night was a mistake.” A booze filled mistake that she barely remembered. Only that she liked the taste of his mint chapstick, and his hands on her hips, and she definitely likes the press of his erection against her thigh… 

But still, it was a mistake.  

“Really?” Gar sipped his coffee, never taking his eyes off her. “Because that was your whole tongue.”   

Oh, Gods. He was never going to shut up. “Please, stop talking before I murder you and throw your entire body into the bay, never to be seen again.” 

Behind her, there was a mechanical hiss as the door opened, and Raven didn’t even have to turn around to know who it was. She could see the scheming look practically plastered on Gar’s face. He smirked at her, and a new, almost painful blush raced across her cheeks. With a whispered curse, she moved to stand up and walk away, feeling her stomach twist and turn inside her. 

Raven grabbed her bottle of Gatorade and stumbled towards the door, barely glancing at Damian as she left. “Morning.”

Damian’s face burned red and he slid to the side to let her pass, saying nothing. She could smell the scent of his spiced soap, and it brought back the memories of last night. Of his hand on her hip, sliding down to her bare thigh, and the stubble from his jaw catching on the curve of her throat. Her stomach fluttered, which only made her want to throw up more, and she darted out of the living room without another word. 

She was going to have to find a new superhero team to work with, if only so she never had to look at him again. 

Raven returned to her room to take a shower, staying under the stream of water until it started to cool. She changed into a pair of soft cotton shorts and a t-shirt, and stumbled out into her room. She already had plans to stay the rest of the day hidden under the covers, hiding from her hangover and Damian.

“So.” 

At the sound of another voice, Raven turned and saw a frustratingly calm-looking Damian sitting on the edge of her bed, his hands in his lap as he watched her. His deep green eyes searched her face for a long moment before he glanced away, scratching at his jaw. 

“Go away.” Raven walked around the bed, ignoring him as she crawled into her bed from the other side, turning away from him. Her stomach roiled again, and she bit the inside of cheek, closing her eyes to keep the room from spinning. “Don’t you have the rest of our teammates to torture?”

“Yes.” His voice was eerily calm, and it almost soothed her. “In fact, I still need to make sure Garfield is appropriately punished for posting that picture online.”

“So go do that.” Raven pulled the blanket up over her head, burying herself in darkness. “And leave me alone.”

There was a long, heavy silence, but Damian didn’t move. He just… sat there. Watching her. Raven growled and she shifted again, keeping her eyes firmly closed, hoping that would help her stomach stay in her body. She heard Damian take a deep breath and let it out slowly. 

“I want to talk about last night.”

That was the last thing she wanted to do. Raven curled her body tighter into herself. “I don’t.” 

“Mm.” His response was purposefully vague. “And why not?”

“Damian.” Raven pulled the blanket off her head and turned to look at him, glaring. “We kissed-”

“Actually, we made out.” His voice was frustratingly calm, and Raven wanted to ring his neck for it. How was he not panicked like her? And how was he not hungover like her? He could be so damn annoying sometimes. 

“We kissed.” she repeated, levelling a flat stare at him. “We’re coworkers, teammates, friends… not…” She swallowed. “...lovers.” 

“And you want it to stay that way?” He stared at her, his face an unreadable mask. “In spite of the fact that you crawled into my lap last night and shoved your tongue in my mouth? That you told me you had a crush on me for years, but didn’t want to damage our working relationship.”

Raven flushed and she stared at him. Had she said that? Why didn’t she remember saying that? Shame swelled in her chest, and she pulled the blanket up over her head again, trying to make herself as small as humanly possible. How in the world was she going to live with herself, knowing that she had drunkenly confessed the breadth and depth of her feelings all while under the influence of alcohol? And how was he so damn calm?

“Just… go away.” 

“Fine. If that’s what you want.” Damian sighed, and she felt him stand up, making his way to the door. There was a pause as he stood there, and Raven heard him turn back around, staring at her form in the middle of her bed. “Did you ever wonder why we started kissing, Raven?”

She stiffened, her heart stilling as she tried to decipher what he meant. 

“Obviously we wouldn’t have started kissing unless you got a response from me, right?” 

Her breath caught in her chest, and she waited. 

“And since you seem to be forgetting key memories from last night, I’ll just give you an abbreviated version of my response last night.”

Raven slammed her eyes shut, waiting. 

“I love you.” 

With that, the door opened to her room and Damian disappeared beyond it, leaving Raven shaking and shuddering with the weight of his words. 

Oh, hell. 

[loxxxlay]

Can we get the rest of the ball destroying story?

This is a very long and probably anticlimactic story about how I destroyed an attorney's metaphorical balls by not letting him get away with being a toxic pile of shit. I hope you enjoy.

So, the first thing you need to know is that my old boss (whom I will call M) is a real fucking asshole. 1, he voted for trump; 2, he's a creep; 3, most obnoxiously, he treated his previous lead paralegal like a freaking wife.... or actually worse than a wife really... like an object. like a trophy wife. When the lead paralegal left, he basically treated her like she was divorcing him, as if she was an object of his possession. And he was like "you'll NEVER have it better than you have here, and i'll never let you come back." (Funny story: i am one of 5 paralegals there who put in their 2 week notice during June, and they were so panicked that they called this exact former lead paralegal and asked her to come back. -_-)

Okay so anyway, let's cut the story back to about 2 months ago. I have been M's lead paralegal for about 8 months now since the previous one left, and I'm hating it. I'm actively job hunting because M is becoming toxic to me the same way he was to the last paralegal. I needed references, so I asked another attorney who also worked there to be my reference. We will call him T. So T is my favorite attorney. T is the first person I came out to as having a girlfriend at the firm, and he never once betrayed me. He is everything that M is not. He gives positive feedback like he gives out candy, but he's also honest and real in a way that not a lot of ppl are.

So anyway I secretly ask him to be a reference on my resume, and T is like "sure! but well funnily enough, I'm actually leaving the firm in 2 weeks. I can't ethically recruit people while I'm here, so I'm going to end this conversation here, but.... wink wink, nudge nudge, call me in 2 weeks." So I'm like COOL COOL. And we don't speak of it again.

So 2 weeks pass, I continue job hunting, T leaves the firm. He calls me literally the next day, and he immediately is like "I wanna hire you" and I'm like "okay cool, I wanna be hired." So boom I got a new job. Ethically. (I'm serious though, T is a very ethical guy and he did nothing wrong.) So anyway, T is okay with me waiting until my NYU program in June is over, so my start date is July 1. 1 month from then. T also asks me very politely not to tell M where I'm going because it would sour their "friendship" (a.k.a. the attorney world in utah is a small world and he doesn't want M to get his feelings hurt). And I want to be clear, T did not pressure me at all - he asked for a favor, and I decided to do it for him, because I care about him, that's it. If at any point it became a burden for me, I would have changed my mind, and T would have understood.

So, I wait a week until I'm in New York to tell M i'm leaving him. I come up with a brilliant excuse for why I don't want to tell him where I'm going - "I have a few offers and I don't want to talk about it while I'm still deciding" (which wasn't even really a lie). So I call my boss and I tell him I'm putting in my two weeks. And he treats me like he always treats people - he interrogates me. Except this time, he's shocked and upset, so he SUPER interrogates me. It's super inappropriate questions like "why are you quitting???" and "is it because of money???" and "this is SUCH bad timing" - but it's frustrating because he's an attorney and he knows how to dress up these rude questions with politeness. In a way that if I call him out on it, I'll be the one who looks inappropriate. :( It sucked. But luckily I had spent 3 days researching how to approach this, and.... I gave him nothing. He was desperate for fuel to try to convince me to stay or guilt-trip me into working overtime, and I just didn't give him any because I was prepared, and also.... I'm good at this. My mom says I've been good at this since I was 3-years-old lol.

Anyway so unfortunately during the conversation, he asked the question "Where are you going?" and I immediately gave him my excuse. And I expected that to be done and over with. Idk why I thought it'd be that easy... He immediately started trying to guess where I was going. And at what point, he said "are you going to work for T????" and..... honestly guys... I panicked. I lied. I said, "uh, no." flat out lmao. Like, I was just so shocked that he was asking me in the first place. :( But weirdly, he believed me and that was that (or maybe he filed away the lie for later use as you'll see). I also want to make it clear here that I, at first, wasn't telling M where I was going because T had asked me to... but at this point, with how nosy and inappropriate M was asking, I didn't want to tell M anymore either. It wasn't for T that I was hiding it; it was for me. Like, no M, I don't want you to have any personal details. You're being 150% more of a creep than usual which is impressive considering.

Anyway so I never tell anyone where I'm going except 2 ppl whom I trust on my last day (and yes, one of them betrayed me, which kinda sucks D:). I told T that I had lied to M, and T was like "it's okay, if he finds out, I'll have ur back" and also... I told T I go by Echo instead of my legal name/dead name, so I'm fine with the lie because M will probably never find out anyway. and T was delighted and super supportive of my enby identity. ^_^ It's cute because he never called me by name, but now all of his texts and statements deliberately start out with my name as if to remind me that he supports it lol.

Anyway so flash forward to my new day at the job. It's going great. I love it there. And then I check my phone and I see this fucking text:

M: "I hear you work for T now. I wish you the best, but I specifically remember asking you if that's where you would be working, and you said no."

Like.... what the actual fuck? He never texts me, and also I've been gone from his firm for like a day.. max... have some chill, lmfao. like. At first, I was REALLY upset. Not in a "i feel bad for lying" kind of way. I couldn't care less about that. More in a "i feel like i'm being stalked, one of two close friends betrayed me, and also what the fuck, why are you texting me this??" #yikes. But then that night, I was talking to my dad about it. And I became super amused? Like. What is he going for here? What does he want me to say? What response does he hope that I'll give that will make him feel better? Does he want me to call him crying and begging for forgiveness and for my job back? Like? I genuinely sincerely want to know what the fuck he was expecting me to say. I want to understand what was going through his head lol.

And of course, because I am a passive aggressive bitch, I immediately catch on to the fact that he is Butthurt (shocking, I know). His feelings are hurt. An object of his, his very own lead paralegal, lied to him outright and he didn't see it coming! How dare she! He wants to make me feel hurt like he feels hurt, and he's a lawyer, he knows how to interrogate people and manipulate people and get them to suck his dick, idk. So he should be able to use those skills to make me feel bad for lying. He wants to one-up me. But see, what he didn't realize is that....

1, I don't feel guilty for lying to him... at all... like, it took me a couple hours to realize this, but the only negative emotion it made me feel was discomfort and fear. not guilt. the same way i feel when a strange man asks me for a hug, and i feel like refusing would look "rude." Like, there's nothing guilty about that. So yeah. His goal is to expose my guilt to make himself feel better, but... my guilt doesn't exist, so good luck

2, um, like I said earlier, I've been a passive aggressive bitch since the day I was born, unlike this bitch who had to go to college to learn how to do it, and not only that - I'm better at it than him. lmfao. His pride is gonna take a hit.

so I toy with the idea of ignoring him because I know that will really fuck him up and make him constantly think about it and check his texts to see if I've responded. But then T tells me that it's probably better to not burn a bridge because again.... super small world here.

So anyway lol, my response ends up being pretty simple but painstakingly constructed:

"Thank you! :) It wasn't an option at the time - it was a new development after you and I had already talked. I wish you the best as well."

The "Thank you! :)" to seem like I am utterly oblivious to the hidden accusation and passive aggressiveness. The middle sentence to be like "uh, are you really accusing me of lying right now?" and the last sentence, my favorite, to shut down the conversation forever. Now, if he responds, he already lost. Because there's no way to continue this conversation without exposing the fact that his "I wish you the best" was completely insincere. I've stripped away his ability to respond fake-politely (which is his modus operandi), and I've forced the last word on him.

Also, even better... (and no one has any way of proving this, least of all him, but) that statement (the "it wasn't an option at the time - it was a new development after you and i had already talked") is completely a lie on my part, and he knows it. T offered me the job the Monday after he left. There's no way he doesn't know that. So not only did I show obliviousness and not only did I shut the conversation down, I outright stonecold lied a second time. And there's no way for him to call me out on it. Like what could he even do? Send me a screenshot of my hire date? Send me a screenshot of an email I sent to a coworker? If he tries that, he's already lost again because like ... obviously super immature... it would be so easy to crush him with niceness like "Wow, I can tell this has really bothered you!" hahahhaha. Sadly he's smart enough not to do that, but it must be infuriating to know I'm lying and not be able to accuse me.

As an attorney whose literal job it is to catch & expose people lying, he literally watched me flat out lie to his face. Twice. And I didn't feel bad about it. And there was nothing he could do about it either time. He went to law school for this shit, and he still can't out-passive-aggressive me, the classic bitch.

Anyway so T apparently he showed his wife M's message, and she was like "oh my god what an asshole!!!" which I must admit was extremely validating!! And then he showed his wife my message, and she made a shocked face and said "wow she's good." And I always thought T was kinda just flattering me to be nice when he complimented my use of words in defusing angry clients and conveying info about a sensitive subject... but apparently his wife thinks so too, so I guess he's been more serious than I thought. I feel so.... complimented.... it's weird.... but I"m very happy and squeeing.

It's been like almost 24 hours and M has yet to respond to me, and if he does, he's already lost. I'll eviscerate him.

So like I know this story is probably disappointing and might not seem like I shanked his balls, but ... take my word for it because if u knew what a chaotic insecure pathetic mess he was and how he desperately claws for control by trying to intimidate and upset all of his employees (and pretty much always succeeds), then you'd understand that he's NEVER encountered something like this before. Someone literally just not giving a shit what he thinks about them. And from what I know of him, I promise you that this has certainly fucked him up for a good long while. And that makes me happy :')

[rudemaidenswrite]

Letters

Thomas Hewitt x Reader, Leatherface x Reader

Part 1

By: @pusantheamazonian            For: @sylvanasthebansheequeen​

You’ve been sending letters to him ever since you moved. But you never got a response until now.

"This place is a dump. Can't believe you actually lived out here." A scoff comes from the driver. Scott's always been a jerk, saying the first thing that comes to mind.

"It's not that bad. The people are what made it the best."  You really don't want to argue about this again. 

"No, Texas is a shit hole. Good thing you left." Scott cackles.

Against my will. 

"Like Mississippi is any better?" Donna chimes in from the front seat. 

Ignoring them both and their ignorant bickering. Texas was the best time of your life. That's why you're going back. You have to know if your happiness is still there. A deep itch of finally being almost home. Has you restless as fuck. You can only hope they remember you. It's been fifteen years since that horrible day. But as it turns out, the world is testing you today. 

"Can you fix it?" Donna whines as the three of you are on the side of the road, looking at the flat tire. 

"Yeah I got a spare in the back. Must have been a nail in the road." Grumbling Scott opens the trunk pulling everything out.

"Well thanks for the lift but I'm gonna bail. I'm just gonna walk the last few miles." Scooping up your backpack, you slowly start walking backwards. 

"What? No you can't just abandon us. We don't even know where we are." Donna practically screams in horror. 

"In good old Texas. Just keep following this road until it hits the interstate." Forcing a smile you keep backing up. 

"Seriously?"  Scott stares in disbelief. 

"Yup! Thanks for the ride and hope you have fun in California." Waving you turn around and start power walking before they can guilt you into staying. 

Freedom! Now it's just you and the land in this long trek. You forgot how eerily silent the town has become. You had heard that the meat plant closed down a few years ago. Hell you'll be surprised if there is anyone still living out here. The plant should have killed everyone, would have saved money if they did it that way. Rather than let the whole town slowly bleed dry. 

*Woop Woop*

"Fuck." Whispering you stand by the side of the road and wait. You know that annoying Woop Woop anywhere.

The old sheriff car slows to a stop a few feet from you. The car rattles as he steps out, an old grouchy looking man.

"You lost missy?" The gruffness is matched with a sour look.

"No sir. Just taking a walk." You remain neutral as possible and polite. 

"I ain’t seen you around. Where are you from?" 

"Rhode Island but-"

"You wouldn't happen to know what happened to the two young'uns a few miles back?" Cutting you off he steps forwards with a purpose. 

"What do you mean?" That question peaks your curiosity.

"A ways back looks like car trouble but both are dead."

"What? I left them thirty minutes ago. How can they be dead?" Confused, you don't know what to say. They were alive, bitching at the car but alive.

"So you do know them. Well I think we need to have a talk. Get in the back."

"Sheriff-"

"Get. In." He pulls a pistol out. Pointing at you and the car. Panicking you shuffle towards the door. This situation is not good but what's worse is you can't figure it out but the sheriff looks familiar. The tattoo on his forearm, you know it from somewhere. 

Sliding into the back seat you place your backpack beside you. The car stinks, it's a putrid smell. Either something died in here or there's something dead in the trunk. 

The Sheriff climbs back into the driver's seat, slamming the door hard. He's not interested in any conversation. Driving in silence he gives you the side eye from the mirror the whole way.

Now this is confusing, he's pulling up to the place you were going. 

"Sheriff how-"

"Stay here." Barking out the order with a glare, you nod in response. Leaving you alone in the locked car, he walks inside. 

What is going on? You didn't tell anyone that you were coming for a visit. The Sheriff certainly didn't even ask for your name. So how would he know to bring you here?

Leaning on the front seat you can see the house has taken a beating over the years. But it's still the same two story white plantation style house as before. 

The loud bang of the front door opening scares you. A massive man wearing a stained apron walks towards you. Keeping his head down the whole way. Retreating into the back seat. Who the hell is this?

Reaching the door, he pauses a second before quickly opening it. Startled by the force you scoot towards the other door. Panic sets in. Suddenly he's grabbing your ankle and dragging you to the edge. Just as you start to fight him, he lets go of you. Curious you risk a glance. You’re staring into chocolate brown eyes. Eyes you know so well, the ones that haunt your dreams.

“Thomas?”  Whispering you can't believe it.

He blinks in shock. He never thought you would recognize him. He recognized you instantly.

Out of muscle memory, at the same time you hold your left hand up using the sign language I love you symbol. He is doing the same symbol with his right hand. Pressing them together you both stare, never blinking. Different emotions are flowing in the silence. That is before you throw yourself into his arms. 

Falling onto his back he holds you tightly watching your happiness explode. As you babble about how happy you are to see him, how you have missed him to upset that he never answered your letters back to squealing in joy. 

“How dare you leave me without a word!” Teasing you can't help the tears. His hands cup your face, wiping the tears away. "I’m okay. They're tears of joy, I always hoped that I would see you again.”

Everything is clearer now the rude Sheriff has to be Uncle Charlie. He was always an ass but now with power he's gone a little psycho.

“Thomas quit fuckin around get her inside.” The Sheriff's gruff voice returns. 

Speaking of the asshole. Thomas steps in front of you shaking his head no. 

“No?”

“Hoyt what's going on?” A faint voice comes from the house. 

“Nothing Mama.” He shouts back.

“Hoyt? When did Charlie change his name?” Confused, you practically shout the question out. 

“What did you say?” Uncle Charlie, Hoyt whatever he wants to be called questions. 

“I asked when did you change your name to Hoyt? I clearly remember calling you Uncle Charlie.” Peeking out from behind Thomas you stare at the man dressed in the Sheriff's outfit. You knew there was something familiar about that tattoo. 

A huge arm he pushes you back. Thomas wants you to stay behind him.

“Y/N? Y/N Y/L/N?” 

“Hello!” You peek back out. With a frustrated huff he shoves you behind him again. “Thomas I was just saying hello.”

“Bullshit.” Scoffing, Hoyt can't believe it. 

“Uh huh!” Side stepping around Thomas, lifting your shirt up. Exposing the scar on your stomach. The one that dons most of your stomach, separating into three individual scars. You two were playing in the woods when you crawled over a piece of barbed wire. Uncle Charlie had to hold you still while Mama Luda stitched you together. 

“I'll be damned. There's never be a girl stupid as you that crawled over barbed wire for fun.” 

Frustrated, you watch him laugh. They never did believe you that it was a simple mistake. 

“It was an accident!”

“You knew better than to be playing in the woods.” Huffing he  remembers the two other people from today. “Well shit, your friends.”

“It's okay. I was only hitching a ride with those assholes." Shrugging if you're being honest they were not your friends. A coworker introduced you to them because you were looking for a ride. 

“Asshole? Good riddance then. Common on Mama and Uncle Monty aren't going to believe this.” He nods at the house. 

Smiling you interlock your hand with Thomas's and follow Uncle Charlie inside. Pulling Thomas with you. Giddy you can't believe everyone is still here. 

"Mama! Uncle Monty! You're never gonna believe who I found." He yells once passing the threshold. 

"Hoyt, why are you yelling? There's no yelling in the house!" The scolding voice carries from the kitchen. Followed with the shuffle of two footsteps. 

"Mama you remember Y/N." Hoyt smirks.

"Oh my… Y/N is that really you?"

"Yes it's me." Smiling you never thought you could be this happy. Mama Luda and Uncle Monty haven't changed either. 

"Well I never! You've grown up so beautifully." She's in tears cradling your face, treating you like glass.

"Thank you."

"You come and talk. Tommy has some work to finish." Hoyt orders interrupting your peace.

Turning you stare at Thomas like he's going to fade to dust right in front of you. You can feel Thomas staring the same way. Neither one of you wants to let go. 

"Y/N. Tommy. You can see each other later." Luda takes you free hand in hers. 

"Yes Mama." The words tumble out slowly as she tugs you along. Internally screaming you don't want to talk. You just want to hug Tommy until there's no tomorrow. Nonetheless you let her pull you into the kitchen. 

Planting you in an empty seat at the table. She pours some lemonade as everyone sits down and you notice that Thomas heads to the basement.

"Now tell me. How are your parents?"  Mama Luda scoots her chair closer.

"Both have passed on." It's a somber moment officially talking about it. 

"Oh dear. I'm sorry." Instantly she's frowning. You guess she didn't expect that answer. 

"Father was eight years ago. Mother last fall."

"What have you been doing since school? There must be something." Trying to sound cheerful she diverts the conversation. 

"I'm a mechanic."

"A what?" Mama Luda and Hoyt question in unison.

"You became a mechanic!" Uncle Monty is laughing his ass off. Everyone knows that's something you must have picked up from him.

"That's not fit for a lady." The frown temporarily returns to Mama Luda’s face. 

"Mama wasn't happy about it either." Smiling you remember the horrified face she made when you told her. "I was thinking about trying to buy the old house back and maybe open a mechanic shop." Shrugging you take a sip of lemonade.

"Dumb idea no one left out here." Uncle Monty states sourly.

"I know." Smiling it feels good to be home.

After dinner Thomas is showing you to your room, the same room you used to use when you would spend the night. But with each step towards the spare bedroom you feel queasy, you don't want to sleep alone. Grabbing his shirt you insist that he stop for a moment.

"Thomas...Can I stay with you?" He turns, staring at you with wide eyes. Now you feel embarrassed. "You don't have to say yes. I understand that you'll want your personal space. It's just been so long and I have this overwhelming need to be close to you."

With a silent groan he pulls you towards his room. It's just as you remember. The old spring bed, dresser off to the side and the now seemingly too small desk and chair. You place your backpack in the corner. You don't want him to accidentally trip because of your clutter. Leaning you pull out some pajamas. 

That's when he sees it. Your shirt rose up and in black ink is his name. It could be anybody's name but in shaky writing is the name Thomas. Before he knows it he has a hand on your hip. 

“What are you doing?”  Startled, you didn't expect such a warm hand on your hip, especially Thomas's. 

Bewildered, he looks at you quickly removing. Pointing at your hip, he pokes it. Following his eyes you see what has him curious, most of your tattoo is showing. Exposing your hip so he can see it completely. Curiously he traces it with a finger with wide eyes. 

“Yes I have your name tattooed on my hip.” He gives you a look that you interpret as him asking why. “Because we were always attached at the hip.” 

Minutes go by as he processes this, slowly caressing the letters.

“After you left school to work at the plant. I stole some of your homework that the teacher still had. Then when I got old enough I brought with me to the tattoo shop. I wanted it to be in your handwriting.” Embarrassed you've never told anyone the truth about the tattoo. That you wanted it because it was your way of staying sane and remembering the good times. Before he dropped out of school to help support the family and you moving away.

You see him frown slightly as he turns to the closet. Opening it he's searching for something, it's not long before he finds it. His body is trembling as he hands you an old shoe box. You've never seen him this worried about showing you something. Sitting on the bed you carefully open it. 

“Oh. My. God. You did receive my letters.” Your heart drops.

Everything's gone numb, you don't know if you exist anymore. The box is filled with everything you ever sent him and things from when you two were little. Picking a letter up you notice the worn edges like it has been read over and over. 

“I never knew if you did. I thought that they were ending up in the trash somewhere or to another person.” 

Placing it to the side, you see the pictures you have sent with the letters. Most just the yearly school photos but during high school you started to add different candid photos you thought were cute. But there's some old ones, of you two or just him that are burnt. Picking up the least burnt one, you and Thomas are in your Sunday best. Sitting on the front porch with his head resting on your shoulder while the two of you are reading Clifford the Big Red Dog. It looks like someone started to burn his face out but chose against it at the last minute leaving it an obscure dark color.

“You…have no idea how much I've missed you.” Breaking down, you sob uncontrollably. Holding the picture tightly. "Please…. Please don't ever leave me again." 

Thomas doesn't know what to do. He never meant to hurt you, he just wanted you safe. He didn't think that ignoring your letters would cause this much pain. Watching you cry feels like a stab to his own heart.

[mattzerella-sticks]

Lumped Together (9-1-1 fic, Hen/Karen. Chim/Maddie, and Eddie/Buck)

As an apology for keeping her thoughts about medical school secret from her wife and partner, Hen takes them (and Maddie) out for lunch. With the promise that it would only be them. And for the most part it was. Until Buck and Eddie strode in with every intention of eating Takoyaki.

Just not with them.

Armed with new information, what's a girl to do? Hen spends the next day fighting back the natural instinct to tease her friends about the wonderful step they've taken together in their relationship. Can she make it home without saying anything? Or will she give in?

           Hen presses her cheek right against her wife’s, smile wide for the camera. She waits for the telltale click before dropping into a more natural expression, rolling her eyes. “Is this one to your liking?”

           Karen squints at her phone, the device a scant few inches away from her face. Hen swallows a comment about needing glasses with another Takoyaki and relaxes when she sees a nod of approval. “The lighting was better in that direction.”

           “That’s what I was trying to tell you, Karen,” Chimney says, dipping a small ball in soy sauce and biting into it. “Where you were trying earlier, the shadows covered too much of our faces.”

           Maddie snorts around her drink, “I didn’t realize you knew so much about photography, Chim.”

           “When half your life was spent on dating websites and apps, you learn how to take a good photo.” They laugh, at his joke and Maddie’s retaliation. She shoves him gently, stealing one of his Takoyaki balls and eating it. “Hey!”

           “Consider this my reward,” Maddie tells him, “for saving you from all those website and apps.” Chimney sighs, laying his arm behind her chair and finishing off his own ball.

           Hen mirrors Chimney’s move, Karen leaning into her loose embrace. “Y’know,” Karen says, “I’m glad we did this. When is it that we can enjoy a meal together that’s just us?”

           The bell above the front entrance rings, drawing Hen’s gaze. She recognizes the newest diners and immediately deflates. “Never,” she sighs, “Because some people have codependency issues.” Her comment confuses everyone, so she nods over where the familiar faces of her coworkers wait for a server to greet them.

           Chimney sees them first. “Maddie,” he hisses, squeezing her shoulder, “I thought you didn’t tell Buck where we were going.”

           Maddie’s frown worsens, brows furrowed. “I didn’t,” she says, “I swear.” At a more pointed stare from the rest of the table, Maddie continues. “He couldn’t have followed me – he said he had his own plans plus he knows how I feel about those tracking apps.”

           A server finally welcomes them into the restaurant and grabs two menus for the pair. Hen straightens in her seat, “Well, however they found us doesn’t matter. Because here they come…”

           They never do. Instead the server sits Eddie and Buck at a small table near the door, takes their drink orders and leaves them with the menus.

           “Are they… not joining us?” Karen asks.

           Chimney shrugs, “I guess they’re not.”

           The fog of bewilderment won’t fade, actually growing stronger as more time passes. More time where Buck and Eddie sit at their own little table. Absorbed in their own little world, Buck grinning dopily at his friend and offering his menu when Eddie wants to point and share a few opinions that make him chuckle. Like Buck isn’t going to order the same thing he always does when he eats here.

           “Excuse me,” their waiter interrupts, startling everyone, “how’s everyone doing. Did you enjoy your meal?” Hen glances at her plate and sees nothing. She must have eaten absentmindedly while watching their friends. They all voice non-committal agreement. “Good,” he says, smile tight while he gathers the plates, “I can bring you all the check now if you want –“

           “Actually,” Chimney interrupts, “Can I get another order of Ponzu I – I can still go for more. What about the rest of you?”

           “Chim, what are you –“ he kicks her under the table, silently pleading for Hen to play along. She does. “Right,” Hen says, rubbing her stomach, “I could go for another round of those Wasabi Takoyaki. Please!”

           He nods, “No problem.”

           When he disappears behind the kitchen doors, she kicks Chimney back doubly hard. His yelp was unsatisfying. “What was that for?” she asks, “Now we gotta pay for food we’re not going to eat!”

           “Sorry,” Chimney tells her, pouting, “I figured staying where we are is for the best. Leaving now might spook the horses, if you catch my drift.” Hen understood perfectly, making his overexaggerated head tilt in their direction unnecessary.

           “Please, they wouldn’t follow us out of the restaurant.” She turns to Maddie, in a more panicked tone. “They wouldn’t follow us out of the restaurant, right?”

           Maddie nearly chokes on her drink. “No, no! I doubt Buck would even notice we left – sometimes he and Eddie get so wrapped up in whatever they’re doing they become completely oblivious. One time I saved Buck’s apartment from burning down because he left the iron on one of his shirts. He forgot because Eddie texted him some video and he ended up watching that instead!”

           “Well then do we ask the waiter to wrap it up?” Karen asks, “Divide the leftovers and hope they don’t notice us?”

           Hen holds the power of final call, the other three looking at her. Waiting for a decision. She flits her gaze over at Buck and Eddie once more, catching Buck showing Eddie something on his phone quickly as a waitress walks over. By the time she slides a strand of hair behind her ear, the boys are ready to order. Strangely ignoring the telltale stance of a woman about to flirt.

           Their waiter returns with the second course, placing it on their table. “Will that be all?”

           She still has to decide. “For now, yes. Thank you.” When he leaves, Hen rubs a tired hand across her brow. “I guess we’re here until an escape route opens up.”

           “If that’s the case…” Karen snags a piece of Takoyaki and pops it into her mouth. She pauses, mid-chew, when confronted with Hen’s frown. “What? We’re paying for them anyway. Might as well enjoy them.”

           “I don’t see what’s wrong with that,” Chimney chuckles, following her lead. Even Maddie nibbles into a ball, and Hen’s exhaustion breaks with a smile.

           “Force my hands why don’t you.”

           Conversation continues between them, not the same as before. Stilted in parts when someone turned their heads and spied on Buck and Eddie. Breaking the natural flow of the story and reporting on what they saw. Karen saw Buck nearly spill his drink after Eddie said something, a blush evident on the younger boy’s face. Chimney caught Buck dragging the waitress over, gesturing at a now shy Eddie while he displayed his phone. With how she swiped across the screen, she must be looking at pictures. Of Christopher, as Buck finds every excuse to show Eddie’s son off. Maddie, in the middle of telling her own story, trailed off when she spied Eddie shoving a Takoyaki into Buck’s mouth and then wiping a sauce smear off with his napkin. Half a minute passed while she regained her senses, idling in uncertainty.

           Hen, though, saw the most damning evidence.

           Buck stands from the table, saying something. He drops his hand on Eddie’s shoulder and squeezed. Eddie wastes no time, nuzzling at Buck’s fingers and then placing a chaste, innocent kiss on the knuckles. Grinning, Buck practically skips towards the bathrooms.

           “Shit.” Hen startled the others at her table, but she didn’t care. She raises her arm searching for the waiter. “Shit, we need to get out of here.”

           “Hen, baby,” Karen says, “what’s the matter?”

           Hen finally sees their waiter and gestures him over. “The problem,” she says, grimacing, “is we’ve stumbled onto their date – Hi! We’re ready to go.”

           The waiter blinks at her, the sudden onslaught of false cheer rattling him. “Uh, sure,” he says, fumbling for their check, “I’ll leave this with –“

           “Card,” Hen hands her credit card over, “Please, as quick as you can.” He nods, spinning on his heel and scurrying to the register. “Now,” she continues, slipping into her jacket, “we need to move fast. Chim, do you have a hat you can wear?”

           “Hold on,” Maddie stops her, grabbing for her wrist, “you still haven’t explained – who’s on a date?”

           “Buck and Eddie are.” Her face drops into objection, readying a discussion they cannot get into now. “Think about it,” Hen insists, meeting each of their stares, “think about how they’ve been acting the entire time they’ve been here.”

           Chimney immediately switches sides. “Oh my God, they’re on a date!”

           Then Maddie. “I can’t believe we’ve been spying on them this whole time!”

           “Exactly,” Hen says, tying her scarf over her head in a hurried manner, “Which is why the sooner we get out of here the better!” She motions for her wife, “Karen, I’m going to give you my glasses, you give me the shades you packed away in your purse.”

           “Wait a minute,” she slaps Hen’s hand, “I’m still… how is this surprising? Haven’t they been a couple this whole time?”

           “Buck? And Eddie?” Chimney asks, tugging his hoodie on overhead, “What gave you that idea?”

           Karen gestures at the other table, “Them.” Then at the three surrounding them. “You all… from how you talk about them –“

           “I mean, they were always pretty close for friends?” Maddie winces, squeezing a too-tight hair-tie over part of her hair for a loose curtain of a pigtail. “I’d tease Buck about him having a crush, but I figured it was one of those weird brothers-in-arms things.”

           “More like lovers in arms,” Chimney chuckles, trailing off when his flat joke turns up nothing but glares. “Yeah, I regretted saying it, too.” He squeezes the hoodie’s strings and half his face disappears behind a puckered hole.

           Karen quirks her lips, glancing at Hen again. “Whenever we talked about your co-workers, you lumped the two together. The fact that I almost always see them with Christopher…”

           Hen rubs a hand on her shoulder, “I did that because they were the only ones who weren’t paired off. I didn’t realize they had paired off… together?” Although she should have. Hen might have better radar for when a woman finds another woman attractive, but the looks are all the same. Reflecting on past memories there were so many moments where she wrote subtle hints and clues off as less than what they were. What they are. What they’ve always been?

           “Excuse me?” the waiter draws Hen’s attention from her thoughts. He hands back her card, a slip of a receipt, and a pen. “Thank you for dining with us today.”

           “Thanks for the meal.” Hen dashes a harried signature and hefty tip, standing. She hands her glasses off to Karen, “Can I have your -?”

           “Here you go.” Karen switches for Hen’s glasses, putting them on her face. She scowls, shaking her head. “When did you get a new prescription?”

           Hen slides the sunglasses over her eyes and grabs for Karen’s hands. “Close your eyes if it hurts, I’ll lead us out.” Although without glasses, Hen doesn’t trust her judgment much. Which is why she allows Maddie and Chimney the lead, trailing behind closely. She has Karen’s hand trapped in the crook of her arm, shielding her wife from Eddie. Luckily the other man seems absorbed in his phone waiting for Buck, the younger boy dawdling in the bathroom. They reach the exit and, like Orpheus, Hen looks behind.

           Buck returned, and she can see the joy in full bloom on Eddie’s face. Especially when Buck laces their fingers together on the table.

           Fearing recognition, Hen leaves the restaurant and joins Chimney and Maddie on the sidewalk, Karen at her side. They put some distance between them and the restaurant. Under the tall, red archway they rearrange themselves into something more presentable than their disguises.

           “Not how I was expecting this lunch to end,” Maddie says, staring at the restaurant. “I can’t believe Buck had a date with Eddie today and didn’t tell me.”

           Chimney scoffs, playing with his now uneven strings of his hoodie. “I can’t believe our luck that it was in the same place we were at for lunch.”

           “If this is as new as you think it is,” Karen says, hand still curled around Hen’s arm, “then maybe he was nervous. Maybe they both were. And they’d rather test the waters before taking as big a risk as telling anyone.” She smirks, gaze darting between Chimney and Hen. “Plus, I think they’d prefer at least some time with this before you tease them.”

           Hen huffs. “After all the trouble we went through to not be recognized… why would we blow it on a few jokes.”

                                              ------------------------

           She really felt tempted to blow their cover with a few jokes. Walking into the station on the next day, Hen nearly slapped Eddie on the back and congratulated him for making an honest man out of their firehouse golden retriever. Instead she grunted a quick greeting and hurried into the locker rooms where Chimney waited for her.

           “This is going to be hard,” she mutters, shrugging off her jacket.

           He nods, slipping his t-shirt overhead. “I had to stop Maddie from texting him at least three different times last night. Instead she called Josh and I had to be an unwilling party to their gossip.”

           “Unwilling?” she scoffs, “As if you weren’t making a timeline.”

           Chimney shoves her, closing his locker door and leaving. Hen left soon after and immediately slammed into a passing Buck. Eddie, at his side, catches the younger man. She notices his hands land on Buck’s hips, quickly sliding up to his waist and then off like he was scolded.

           “You okay there Hen?” Buck asks, stepping out of Eddie’s aborted embrace, “I didn’t hit into you too hard?”

           Hen forces a tight smile onto her face, walking away. “Like knocking into a pillow,” she says, “just watch where you go next time, Buck!”

           “You weren't watching either…”

           She hurries up the steps and finds Chimney again. Hen leans close and whispers, “Very hard.”

           Chimney snorts and rolls his eyes, choosing an answer of silence. His response catches Bobby’s attention, however, and he raises a brow at the pair. “Is everything all right with you two?”

           Hen sighs, rubbing her jaw. “No complaints here, Bobby.”

           Bobby looks unconvinced but doesn’t press further. Instead he jerks a thumb at the refrigerator, “Help me throw together a quick breakfast?” The alarms flare and unfortunately shatters those plans. “Never mind,” Bobby say, running off, “we’ll eat later!”

           Emergencies should not inspire such gratefulness. Hen cannot stop feeling appreciative for the consecutive calls, though, lessening the amount of downtime in the station where she was liable of saying anything. She didn’t have to think about Buck and Eddie as a couple when on the job. They were her teammates. They were running into danger. They were dating, but that wasn’t important then. All that mattered was hers, theirs, and everyone else’s safety.

           Except danger can only distract for so long. The city began winding down. Their last assignment had them rushing onto the scene where a woman, thrown from a truck, ended up stuck in wire fencing. Her and Chimney drove the poor victim to the hospital with most of the fence still embedded in her, too close to vital organs. Instead of risking shredding them they clotted the leaks as best they could and left her in the capable hands of the doctors. Leaving them with a leisurely drive back.

           They park the ambulance between their firetrucks and wandered towards the common area. Hen spots Buck and Eddie sitting comfortably close, Buck practically resting his head on Eddie’s shoulder. When they see Chimney and Hen, Buck scoots a few inches away.

           Subtle. How was it never obvious?

           “Everything go smoothly during transport?” Eddie asks after they sit across from them, at a distance normal for friends.

           Hen and Chimney share a look. “She didn’t lose any more blood during the ride over,” he says, “so I’m betting she’s fine.”

           “Hope so,” Buck says, wincing in sympathy. “Poor lady kept going on about how she was supposed to get married in a few days… it’d suck if she had to reschedule because of this. I know I would hate to ruin an important date like that.”

           She bites her lip, dams up the rushing waters of sarcasm rushing in. Quells the urge to laugh and buries any retort deep in her stomach where she can vomit it up later in the safety of her home. Where Karen can help comfort her though the sickening ordeal of suffering with wasted teasing.

           As if sensing her woes, Hen’s phone vibrates in her pocket. She relaxes at the notification for Karen’s message. Almost forgot about sending this alongside a kissy-face emoji and a heart. Makes hers skip a beat.

           “What is it Hen?” Buck asks.

           “Text from Karen,” she tells the group, opening it. “I think it’s supposed to be a picture…” Hen trails off, recognizing the photo from yesterday. Staring at it brings up the scene in her mind, especially the boys a few tables away unknowingly being watched by the four happy faces in the photo.

           “A photo?” Buck continues, unaware of her inner turmoil, “what of? Ooh… is it naughty?” He snickers, gladly accepting the elbow blow from Eddie, retaliating by pressing his entire weight onto his side.

           Chimney’s gaze darts from the photo to Hen, frowning. “Hen, don’t…”

           She breaks.

           “Actually,” Hen says, “it’s a photo from yesterday. Me and Karen, Chim and Maddie… we all went out for lunch.”

           “What?” Buck turns on Chimney, “Maddie said you two were going on a date!” Too caught up in the betrayal, he keeps his hand glued to Eddie’s knee.

           Chimney shifts uncomfortably, squeezing his hands together. “We technically were… a double date.”

           “At that place we’ve been to. The one Chim loves,” Hen shows the others Karen’s picture, watching them. “Takoyaki? It was part date, part apology to Karen and Chimney. All my treat.” At the mention of their cuisine, the color drained from both men’s faces. Eddie swallowed exaggeratedly while Buck finally realized his position. He furthered the divide between him and Eddie.

           “Takoyaki?” Eddie asks, “Yesterday? Did you guys… enjoy it?”

           “It was interesting…” Hen smirks, leaning back in her seat. She leaves her answer dangling in front of them, pulling up Instagram on sliding different filters over the photo.

           Buck snaps, “Interesting good or interesting like you saw something?”

           Hen savors every second in an effort of making up for wasted potential earlier. “I think we did see something, right Chim?” she looks over at him, ignoring his shaking head. “What was it? Oh, yeah… this one man came in and ordered every single item off the menu, and then couldn’t even eat any of it he was crying so badly.”

           “What?”

           “What?”

           “What?” Chimney winces at her harried glare, “I mean… thanks, I almost blocked that from my memory. As if the… the nightmares weren’t bad enough?”

           “Crying?” Eddie asks, squinting, “What the… why was he crying?”

           “Well, he was with this woman – she was his therapist. And apparently, he has this fear of balls. So in some weird exposure therapy thing she made him go to the Takoyaki place as the first step. She explained this all in an apology after he caused this huge scene.” Hen snickers at the scenario she pulled straight from her ass. The others believe it, and she sees both of them relax slightly. “I felt really bad about laughing, but at least I was able to wait until after the therapist paid and left with him.”

           “Because slightly rude is better than fully rude,” Chimney mutters. Hen kicks him, accepting the retaliation with a smile.

           “Do you think that would be a good caption?” she shows them her phone again, Instagram active, the space where the caption goes blank. “We aren’t afraid of any balls #brave?”

           Buck chuckles, rocking in his seat. “How about – LA’s best and brightest, brave enough to put out fires and eat delicious balls?”

           “Or,” Eddie frowns at them, “leave the poor man alone and say – Good food, good friends #Takoyaki.”

           Pouting, Buck bats his eyes at Eddie. “You sound like such a grandpa. Stop reminding us why you barely use social media.”

           “Oh! I just got a good one!” Hen says, preemptively defusing the fight in its early stages by standing. She waits until all attention is on her, and then she continues. “I’ll write – The calm before the storm #whenyoufindoutyourcoworkersaredating. And I’ll tag all of us and you two, okay?”

           Hen barely resists the urge to snap a photo. Buck and Eddie gape at her, mouths wide in disbelief. Stunned into silence and inaction. She hears Chimney mutter under his breath as he leaves them.

           “Uh, that’s uh… that’s a pretty long hashtag,” Eddie says, glancing at Buck and hiding his hands under his thighs. “And, well the whole thing kinda…”

           “It doesn’t make any sense!” Buck blurts out with a strange laugh, “Like, why would you tag us? We weren’t there and… and dating? That’s uh – that’s… what makes you say that?”

           “Because we saw you two,” Hen shrugs, pocketing her phone. She lays a hand on both their shoulders, smiling. “And you’re both adorable. For dating and trying to hide it.”

           Eddie’s face scrunches at the accusation. “We were that bad?”

           “Once we found out the context, it became obvious.” She nods, letting go of them. “Congratulations you crazy kids. We all couldn’t be happier. Well, maybe if you told us?” Nothing left to say, Hen leaves them be. Trails up the stairs after Chimney and finds him sulking by the sink. Hen leans on the counter nearby. “I know, I’m awful.”

           “Was it really that hard doing nothing?” he asks.

           “In a moment of weakness, I couldn't take the pressure.” When his judgmental expression remains, she groans and softly taps his arm. “Come on, if Maddie had sent you the picture you would have done something similar if not the same.”

           “No I wouldn’t –“

           “Even you can admit not saying anything was torture!”

           Bobby shuffles towards them, sipping at his coffee. “What was torture?”

           Despite Chimney’s best efforts, he cannot stop Hen. She tells their captain, “Knowing about Buck and Eddie dating but not being able to say anything.”

           He tilts his head, glancing between the two. “Buck and Eddie are dating?”

           Hen winces, realizing her error. “Or, they were on a date? I mean we only found out about it yesterday, so we’ve been sitting on it for a day?”

           Bobby nods, draining the rest of his coffee. He steps between Hen and Chimney and drops it in the sink. Then he strides over to the railing and yells, “Buckley! Diaz! Can I see you two for a moment?” They climb the stairs, glancing between an impassive Bobby and a regretful Hen and Chimney. Bobby points in the direction of his unused office and trails behind them as they go.

           Now she feels bad.

           Chimney clears his throat. “Was it worth it?”

           She rubs at her eyes, groaning. “I really put my foot in it, didn’t I?”

           “Well I don’t think it’s my place to say,” Chimney chuckles, “but if Karen –“

           “Don’t you dare tell Karen.”

           “But I must. Otherwise how will you ever receive the correct punishment?”

           “I can handle that, too.” Hen already has an idea. She waits for them outside Bobby’s office, listening as he discusses the interpersonal relationship rules of the LAFD. About the many different forms they need to fill out and how dangerous it would have been if they carried on with a secret relationship while working together. How, at best, they work at different fire houses and worse case they lose their jobs. An hour later they leave with a healthy stack split between them held together by thin paper clips.

           Hen drags them into another aside, apologizing for telling Bobby. “I wasn’t thinking – I was talking to Chim and then he comes up and –“

           “Hen, it’s okay,” Eddie says, smiling, “we’re not mad about that. We figured Bobby oughta know about us and… well, it’s not like we figured we had a lot of time after you pulled the rug from under us. If we were as obvious as you said…”

           “Bobby even said he thought there was something going on.” Buck shrugs, a hand latched onto Eddie’s neck. Massaging it. “Actually, he said Athena thought she saw something at May’s graduation party.”

           “Which was impossible because we didn’t even think of each other like that then.”

           “Speak for yourself,” he laughs, “I think that’s when I put it all together…”

           Hen breathes easier, chuckling alongside him. “Well, if you’re all good –“

           “You’re not getting out of this that easily,” Buck smirks, cutting her off, “we’re not mad about the Bobby thing. The whole teasing us and making up that fake story about the balls guy… you still gotta pay for that.”

           She nods, crossing her arms. “I figured,” Hen sighs, “Which is why I had this idea… group date. Me and Karen, Chim and Maddie, you two – hell, we’ll even throw in Athena and Bobby. And your choice, my…” the words pain her, throat closing around it so tight she forces it out and scrapes the lining, “treat.”

           Apology accepted, Buck and Eddie leave her for the thrilling excitement of bureaucratic paperwork. Hen trudges towards the tables and collapses onto the first available seat. She runs her hands over her hair, back and forth, until the exhaustion seeps away into a bearable tiredness. Then she musters up the strength needed for telling her wife.

           There’s a message already waiting for her when she checks her phone. Blue light blinking ominously.

           You’re on the couch tonight.

           “…Chimney.”

[writersplanetarium]

Facade: New Beginnings

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 11 Part 12

Aelin and Rowan: The Burning Hatred Between Them

Aelin sighed as she spotted another article about her and Rowan. It’d been a few months since she’d gone and spilled the beans, and the news sites were still talking about it. She and Rowan had since developed a... friendship of sorts. After they’d confessed to each other what they hadn’t dared tell anyone else, they found themselves in a sort of in between place with each other, not sure whether they were going to settle for being friendly coworkers, aquaintences, or close friends. Aelin was trying for friendship, and he wasn’t pushing back, which was a good sign.

Now that they were actually getting along, the articles were pointless, but Aelin knew if she went out now and said they’d made up, it’d seem like a publicity stunt. Oh, who was she kidding, she knew no matter when she did it, it’d seem like a publicity stunt. It had worked in their favor though. They were still the hot topic, especially since everyone was loving the new season of the show and their character’s budding romance.

She had even missed him a little when he went home to spend the holidays with his family. However, with Rowan gone, Aelin could have a party at her house, so she had everyone over for the holidays and not risk upsetting the delicate balance of their relationship. It was a nice, family-friendly party filled with all her favorite people. And yet somehow she found herself looking out the window and sighing at the empty house next door.

She tried not to let her mind linger on the man. Tried not to think of how he’d started waving at her when she’d drink her coffee on her porch before his morning run. Tried not to think about how she’d catch him taking the garbage out at ungodly hours of the morning rather than the night before like a normal person. Or how he’d always get his mail after he’d been working out, so he was sweaty and shirtless. She definitely wasn’t letting herself think about any of that.

But now Rowan was back, the holidays were over, and they’d gotten their new scripts. He’d come right over once he’d put his stuff away and eaten dinner for the reading. And despite their new friendship of sorts, Rowan scrunched up his nose at the first scene, and Aelin finally set her phone aside, putting the articles out of her mind.

“Really?” He asked, “A sex scene right off the bat?”

“We’re supposed to be in love, Rowan, what did you expect?” She laughed, “They’re giving the people what they want.”

“But why does it have to be sex? There are more ways to show affection, to show they’ve grown closer.”

“Yes, but this is the most fanservicey,” Aelin said. She prodded his leg with her foot. “Don’t worry, though, I’ll be gentle with you. I only bite a little.” He rolled his eyes but seemed to be fighting a smile.

“Let’s just get on with it. Your line’s first,” he said.

“You mean the various sounds of pleasure?” She teased. He gave her a flat look. “Okay. Okay. Let’s see.” She flipped open the script. In the middle of their intense moment together, a loud knock on the door startles them both. Charlotte speaks, breathlessly. ”Who is it?” Aelin called.

“It’s Henry,” Rowan said, reading Fenrys’ part. Charlotte and Daemion give each other a panicked look as they see the time and notice they’re late.

“Just a minute!” Aelin said with a bit of franticness in her voice. They both jump out of bed, Charlotte clutching the sheets around her, and Daemion grabbing his underwear from just beside the bed, the both of them racing around the room to get dressed. “Dae, where’d you throw my underwear?”

“I didn’t throw them anywhere,” Rowan replied, “You did. Check by the dresser.” Charlotte continues to look, not checking by the dresser.

“Seriously Dae, I need-” She turns, finding Daemion half-dressed, holding her underwear up by a finger.

“I told you to check by the dresser,” he said.

“Whatever,” she laughed. Charlotte quickly dresses and pulls her messy hair back before turning back to Daemion, who’s dressed as well. She steps closer to him, lacing their fingers, pulling him down to her. “I’ll catch you later.” She kisses him intensely, and when they pull apart, neither seems to want to let go. “I love you.”

“I love you more,” he replies.

“I love you most,” she says. They part fully and Charlotte grabs her bag and puts it on. She makes her way to the door where Henry is waiting. “I do expect you to finish what you started.”

“Always,” he says. He presses a quick kiss to her neck before letting her slip out of the room to meet with Henry. We see him give a fond look at the door, thinking about the girl who just slipped out of it.

“Aw, that’s cute,” Aelin comments. Rowan makes a small sound of half agreement, clearly just wanting to keep working.

So they did. They went through the rest of the script, reading through their lines. It was... odd, now, though. It was easier to read scripts and act with him when she hated his guts, but now... Now it had a different energy to it. Now... it was more tender. Awkward. They were practically friends now, and she had to pretend to be in love with him. To want him. Though if Rowan picked up on the feeling, or felt anything was off himself, he didn’t mention it.

So Aelin brushed it off.

“You want something to drink?” She asked as they finished off the episode.

“Sure,” he said, reclining into her couch, “What have you got?”

“Water, wine, apple juice, and milk.”

“Water’s fine,” he said. She nodded, grabbing him a cup of water and pouring herself a glass of wine.

When she returned to her living room, she caught sight of Lysandra in her kitchen window, grinning like a lion that just caught a gazelle. Rowan was flipping through his phone, so he didn’t notice her staring, but Aelin most certainly did. She saw her best friend lift her phone, and Aelin knew she was texting her.

“Thanks,” Rowan said, his eyes still on his phone as she set the cup down. Aelin’s phone buzzed, and she scowled at Lysandra but picked it up anyway.

It looks like a certain SOMEONE is getting quite comfortable on your couch

He came over to run lines, Lys. Trust me he’s not getting too comfy.

Well he didn’t just run out as soon as you were done. That’s a good sign

It’s weird being nice, and then having to pretend we’re in love. 

You two have a new dynamic now. You just have to adapt your acting to suit it. Which you’ll get the hang of in no time. I mean if you can pretend to be in love with him when you hate him, you can do it when you like him. You’re both professionals, so if you’re worried about him thinking you LIKE like him, remember he knows you’re acting.

Aelin rolled her eyes.

I can see you rolling your eyes, you know.

Aelin laughed lightly.

I’m not worried about anything. It’s just... different. 

Embrace the change, Ace, embrace the change.

Aelin looked up at Lysandra through the window and her friend winked before heading deeper into her house where Aelin could no longer see her.

“You want to watch something?” Aelin asked, taking a long sip of her wine.

“Do you have anything good?” He asked.

“By your standards? No,” Aelin said, “But even grouchy old men like you need to enjoy a movie so bad it’s good every once in a while.”

“I’m barely older than you,” he said with a flat look.

“Old. Man,” she said again with a grin, poking him in the arm with her foot just enough to nudge him. He rolled his eyes.

“We’re going to watch an awful movie,” Aelin said, “And you’re going to love it.”

“Are we to the point yet that you can force me to watch bad movies?” He asked. She picked up the remote.

“Just got there, Buzzard.”

********

Rowan glanced at Aelin as she watched the movie with mirth in her eyes. It was awful. Cheesy times ten with the most Rom Com dialogue he’d ever heard. It reminded him of his first movie, an awful thing that filled him with regret every time he thought about it. But... he liked watching it with Aelin. Despite the fact that he’d never admit it out loud, she was actually pretty funny, and her commentary amused him to no end.

“Yes, of course I’ll go on a week long vacation with you, man I’ve only known for three days.”

“Yes, definitely walk up and stand that close to me while I’m not looking.”

“Of course I’ll marry you after not even knowing you three weeks! We’re soulmates.”

It actually made him smile. It was a nice shift from the awkward tension earlier while they read their lines. It hadn’t gone badly, but it sure as hell just felt... different. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but where things used to be all spark and anger fueling them to try and be better, they were just... there with each other. Somehow, the comfort brought discomfort that the movie helped to reduce.

“You enjoyed that,” Aelin said, moving closer to him.

“I did not,” he lied.

“You did too!” She laughed, “You liked that! You thought it was fun. Look, you’re smiling.” She poked his cheek and he rolled his eyes, dropping the smile.

“I’m going home.”

“No!” She said, grabbing his arm, “You have to stay and watch more bad movies with me.”

“I have to do no such thing,” he said, “Besides, it’s getting late, and you’ve had a whole bottle of wine.”

“One more movie,” she said, “Just one more. This one’s the best.”

“Aelin-”

“Too late, it’s already playing,” she said, picking up the remote and selecting the new movie. He rolled his eyes, but watched anyway.

Usually when he went back home for the holidays, he was glad to be away from Aelin. His family could get crazy, for sure, but they didn’t blast their music so much he could feel it in his feet over a hundred feet away. But this time... He’d actually wanted to come back to her.

She didn’t move back to her spot as the movie started, having made herself comfortable with barely a foot’s worth of space between them. So close he could smell the mix of her jasmine soap and the wine she’d downed. He promptly ignored it. 

She was going strong for the first thirty minutes with her witty remarks and full laughter, but at around forty five minutes it started to die down and her laughter turned to huffs and her sentences turned to words, trailing off to less and less until her head hit his shoulder.

“Aelin?” He looked over at her. She was out cold. He let out a sigh, grabbing the remote. He hit pause on the movie and shifted, gently laying her down on the couch. He tucked a pillow under her head and pulled the blanket off the back, laying it over her.

He turned on his phone’s flashlight as he shut off the TV so he’d be able to find his way out. He paused when he looked at her sleeping, peaceful figure in the dark, only the moonlight coming in through the window illuminating her. He patted her head gently, pushing her hair out of her face, before making his way back home, collapsing into his bed to find himself with dreams filled with that familiar bubble of laughter.

Tagged:

@captain-timetraveldreamer @dayanna-hatter @faerie-queen-fireheart@rowaelinforeverworld @alifletcher2012 @shyvioletcat @myfeyrelady @howler07 @your-high-lady @secret-lil-rendez-vous @running-with-thieves @orangeannie @rapunzel1523 @tswaney17 @queenblueoffire @but-she-was-aelin-galathynius @ame233 @nalgenewhore @ttakeitbacknoww @mydarlingfireheart @dayanna-hatter @alifletcher2012 @shyvioletcat @runawayrowan @tangledraysofsunshine @ella-enchanted27 @highqueenofelfhame @the-regal-warrior @sleeping-and-books @they-call-me-cuatro @mariamuses @lowhangingtreebranches @cityofchelsea16 @lovemollywho @breezyfreezey @worldoffae @awkward-avocado-s @superspiritfestival @carlyrollsroyce​ @slytherin-25 @ireallyshouldsleeprn @mis-lil-red @mynewdreamwasyou @ifinallygavein @amren-courtofdreams​ @shortandbadtempered​

LMK if you want to be tagged!

[katrandomwrites]

Wierdly Human

Alternate title was "Jon the Archivist is Kinda Hot"

Little in between snippets from the assistants and their impressions of Jonathan Sims.

I declare this a fluff and humor only zone! Episode 160 can kiss my butt.

You can also find this on AO3 under the same title.

I got the inspiration for this from a tumblr post about Jon being a clean boy despite crawling through hell and back but I think the writer deleted it because I spent forever looking for it and couldn't find it :n: Also 2 Drink Jon is a reference to 2 other fics I've read so his wild ass is not mine.

Supplemental Headcanons at the end.

--

Pre-Show

There was somebody new at the Institute. 

He was short and dark with black hair neatly trimmed and styled. A pair of browline glasses perched in front of wide brown eyes that seemed to absorb everything around him.

“Hey, uh, Tim,” Martin whispered as he leaned over to where his coworker was digging through a drawer, “Who’s that?”

“Hm?” Tim’s eyes widened as he looked up, “Oh shit, he’s cute.”

“Not helpful, Tim.”

“Um, I think he might be Daniel’s replacement. I think his name is Joe or something,” Tim swallowed, “I wonder what modeling agency Bouchard raided for him.”

Martin elbowed him in the ribs hard, his face going as red as his hair, “Shut up!”

“But look at him, Martin! He has to have a skincare routine an hour long and don’t tell me you didn’t notice that those trousers are bloody tailored. I see you looking at his arse!”

“SHUT UP!”

”What are you two fighting about now?”

Both researchers jumped away from each other as Sasha popped up behind them.

“Hot new guy,” Tim said, earning another jab and a hiss.

Sasha looked at Martin and grinned, “Short, scrawny, Persian, and angry?”

“He’s Persian?” Martin stuttered before slapping a hand over his mouth.

“Yeah, I got to talk to him during his follow up interview. Smart guy but kind of grumpy and super awkward. We got talking about foriegn food and he offered to give me his grandma’s recipe for chelow kababs,” Sasha said.

“What’s his name.” Tim asked, looking back at where the new guy was glaring at a row of filing cabinets with several drawers ajar.

“Jonathan Sims.”

--

Pre Episode 44

Basira watched as Sims limped away with the tape clutched to his chest like a lifeline before sighing and heading out to the car where Daisy was waiting.

“Well?” Daisy asked, “How’s our favorite murderer?”

Basira swatted her feet off the dash, “He looks like he hasn’t slept in 3 weeks and recently got hit by a car.”

“I wasn’t asking about his nasty, worm-eaten face, Basira,” Daisy said, “Does he know we’re watching him?”

“I don’t think so -put your seatbelt on- it seems like he’s more invested in what’s on those tapes for now. I get the feeling he’s more worried about watching the people he works with than us.”

“What a sad little librarian. I’m looking forward to how he managed to kill Robinsen without getting his ass whipped.”

“She was old.”

“Yeah, but Sims looks like he’d get knocked out by a light breeze even before he got munched on by some nasty fucking bugs. Did you see the surveillance from Robinsen’s initial investigation? I went back through to track Sims and watched him struggle move a box that was in front of a filing cabinet for a solid twenty minutes; the big ginger guy had to move it for him.”

“That’s-” Basira snorted, “That’s pathetic.”

Daisy grinned, “He has to be one manipulative bastard to get anything done.”

“Is that your theory?”

“I mean look at you.”

“What about me?”

“He gives you the puppy eyes once and now you’re smuggling him tapes from the evidence locker? I have never known the great Basira Hussain to ever cave to a suspect’s wishes in my life- and don’t say it’s to keep a closer eye on him. We have less illegal tactics for that.”

Basira opened her mouth to argue but found that Daisy had a point. She really only gave into suspects if the circumstances were dire. This was technically classed as a low priority case.

What was going on here? 

--

Post Episode 76

Melanie flopped dramatically onto Georgie's couch and let out a long winded sigh.

"Oh?" Georgie asked from the kitchen door.

Melanie sat up slightly to let her sit down before plopping her head down on Georgie's thigh, "I had to go talk to Sims at the Institute again."

"How's Jon?"

"A fucking bastard is what he is."

"Well I knew that," Georgie laughed, gently beginning to brush through Melanie's hair with her fingers.

"I don't know, he's was wierdly defensive and I think he was trying to gaslight me about one of his new assistants."

Georgie paused her brushing, "I haven't seen Jon in a while but that seems… out of character for him. He's a grump, sure, but I've never known him to be a bully -on purpose that is."

"Yeah, well…"

The pair lapsed into a tense silence.

"Would it make you feel better if I show you a picture of Jon in university that he is very embarrassed about," Georgie ventured after a few minutes, "He's still mad I have it.~"

Melanie twisted her head back and grinned, instantly breaking the tension and sitting up to look at the phone screen presented to her.

On it was a picture of Jon passed out, mouth wide open and drooling, on the ugliest couch she'd ever seen.

"He still owns that couch by the way," Georgie said. Melanie waved a hand in her face to silence her as she took in the details.

Jon was in a pink crop top that Melanie was sure she'd seen in Georgie's closet, union jack boxers, gladiator sandals, and The Admiral was planted square on his chest, though he was about half the size of the fluffball that roamed the flat now. Surrounding them where piles of papers and books on the paranormal.

Melanie began to cackle.

"Our friend group used to call him '2 Drink Jon' and this was after he'd done four shots in the kitchen and decided to lecture us on how ghosts are bullshit and he could beat one in a fist fight," Georgie elaborated, "I'm still not sure when he ended up in that outfit but honestly, if we had recorded his rant he probably could have used it for his Masters thesis."

Melanie wheezed into her shoulder as tears began to stream down her face.

"2 Drink Jon was actually a lot more charismatic than sober Jon. This one time he almost had us convinced that he could talk to plants after two gin and tonics, granted we were also drunk but-,"

"Stop, please," Melanie wheezed, "I'm dying."

"Gosh, one of these days I'll have to tell you about tequila and the alien conspiracy. Randall could almost recite the whole speech from memory."

Melanie fell off the couch.

--

Post Episode 109

Julia and Trevor exchanged a look as the Archivist powered through the spiciest Thai food they could find without even breaking a sweat. 

It was supposed to be a joke, spiking Jon's food, the cashier had even given them a panicked look at the restaurant and Trevor's eyes had been watering the whole way back to the safe house. They'd even waited by the door in case Jon tried to make a break for the case of water bottles in the car but he just unwrapped the plastic fork and dug in without even asking for a drink.

Julia picked at her own food but couldn't quite manage to eat it and glanced back at Jon, "Are you sure you don't need a water or anything?"

Jon looked up for a moment, his eyes were more alive than they had been all day and practically sparkled in the shitty fluorescent light. He shook his head and instead reached for another packet of chili sauce to add to his food.

"What the hell is he," Trevor whispered to Julia in horror.

"I don't know but he's definitely not normal."

--

During Episode 132

Daisy had misjudged Jon. She'd grossly misjudged him.

She flexed her fingers around his, ignoring the way the sand dug into her skin, and gently pulled him closer. The man she'd called prey gave her a soft smile and compiled, pressing against her side like she'd never held a knife to his throat, like she hadn't just admitted to planning his murder before she was trapped here.

Daisy turned her head awkwardly and dug her face into his shoulder savoring the human contact, her tears soaking into his shirt.

The Hunt in her blood tried to sing, tried to fight the Buried, "Safe, Mine, Pack, Protect", it echoed faintly.

Jon said something and began to move, pulling Daisy forward along with him.

"Safe, Mine, Pack, Protect"

Hours past as they shimmied through the coffin, the pain of being scraped and crushed was overpowered by the sheer ecstasy of moving more than an inch every few days.

"Safe, Mine, Pack, Protect"

There was a door, Jon tucked himself under her arm and pulled her up the stairs to the blinding lights of the institute. She ducked her head down to his shoulder again and grimaced as her joints popped and groaned.

"Jon, you stupid idiot! What did you think-"

Daisy looked up to the person she thought she’d never see again and smiled.

"Hi."

--

Post Episode 132

Martin had horrible timing really. He just needed to pee, was that really too much to ask?

Of course it was. The universe hated him.

So instead of slipping into the private bathroom upstairs which was magically broken, he had to go down a level and walk in on Jon shaking dirt out of his clothes.

Martin was going to die here but at least he'd die happy.

Jon didn't even seem to register that someone else had joined him (thank the Lonely) so Martin took a second to sneak a guilty look before darting back out and hiding for 40 years.

Jon was painfully thin. Martin got the idea that he could count every vertebrae and rib if he was allowed and even at a glance he could spot the sunken area where at least one rib was now missing.

Worm scars and burns were peppered up his back along with a few moles and freckles. Little red marks circled his chest in a way that Martin immediately recognized as being from the black fabric crumpled at Jon's feet.

And to top it all off, much to Martin's delight, were a set of three black gears tattooed down Jon's right shoulder blade. Sasha had mentioned once that she had gone out for drinks with Jon when he first started and they'd managed to get on the topic of tattoos. Tim had spent months trying to get Jon to show it to him before 'giving up'.

Martin stepped out and stood in the hall for a moment, red faced and giddy, before stumbling off in search of another bathroom.

--

Somewhere between Episode 132-154

"Hey, guys?" Melanie called.

Daisy and Basira glanced up to see Melanie holding a giant plate of the best smelling food they'd seen in weeks. Steam wafted up into her very confused face.

"Did either of you make this? I went to ask Martin and I can't find him."

"I didn't make it," Basira said, "Daisy?"

"I once made spaghetti and lit it on fire.

Basira grimaced and walked up to Melanie, "Kebabs, Tahdig rice, flat bread, and jam cookies. Those are Iranian dishes, or Middle Eastern at least.”

Daisy looked at Basira, "How do you know that?"

"Took a foreign cuisine course focused on middle eastern food a few years ago," Basira said as she made her way to the kitchen area with the group in tow.

Sitting on the table were three more huge plates of food and two empty plates sitting in the sink. Martin was standing next to the table with pure confusion on his face.

"Did you make this?"

Martin jumped and looked at the group, "Uh, no? I really only do pastas… this is a little outside my skill set. I think-"

"It could be a trap," Daisy interrupted, "Maybe it's laced with something?"

"No, I'm pretty sure-"

"Could be, but who would go to this effort, the Web?" Basira said.

"Guys, it was probably-"

"It was the Archivist!" Helen exclaimed from behind them, somehow having opened her door without making a sound and scaring the shit out of them, "He is an excellent cook."

"Bullshit," Melanie wheezed, setting her plate down before she dropped it.

"No, she right," Martin sighed, "Jon actually cooked something similar a few years ago for a company thing. He gave this whole speech about how grandparents immigrated here from Iran, well Persia at the time, and his grandma made him learn to cook what she called 'real food'."

"You mean to tell me that Jonathan Sims, the skinniest guy I have ever met, can cook like this," Basira said in disbelief before cautiously sitting down at the table with the rest following suit.

"He called it his grandmother's curse," Helen provided cheerfully, "He said that no matter what he does,  he always makes far more than he needs and never has people around to give it to. So he just never cooks."

"You talked to him?" Melanie asked. Daisy began to pick at a plate and made a sound of confusion and delight at the taste.

"Oh yes, he even let me help by getting things off high shelves!"

"This is amazing," Daisy said in disbelief before grabbing a fork and beginning to eat in earnest.

"It is! Jon and I had a lovely chat and I'm not much for 'real' food these days but he really convinced me!" Helen declared, spinning back around to re enter her door, "And I must say it was delightful."

"Huh," Basira shrugged and began to eat.

Not bad.

--

Post Episode 159

For the second time since he woke up, Martin pinched himself. He had to be dreaming, the smaller body smooshed up against his chest and the boney limbs clinging to him had to be a figment of his imagination.

Jon huffed in his sleep and burrowed deeper into Martin before settling again. A few stray rays of the morning sun slipped through the blinds highlighting Jon’s gray hairs and the raised edges of scars that trailed along his skin.

Gently, Martin carded his hand through the wild mess of hair, marveling at how soft it was despite everything. Jon sighed, leaning into the touch without stirring.

He could stay like this forever, with Jon safe in his arms and the dangers of the world outside, away from his happiness.

"Wha' time?" Jon mumbled, stretching before re-draping himself over Martin. He looked up and the light caught his eyes in a way that Martin could see all the blue heterochromatic spots in Jon's left eye through dark, heavy lashes. 

"Doesn't matter," Martin whispered as he pulled him closer, "We have all the time in the world."

--

Supplemental Headcanons: - Jon is a 3rd gen Persian/Iranian immigrant. His grandparents on his dad's side moved to England post WWII. (Persia became Iran in 1979) They took the last name Sims during immigration. - His mother was full blooded English. - He can out cook 87% of the local grandma's when he really gets into it - He built an unnaturally high tolerance to salt and spice as a kid to keep people from taking his lunch or trying to mess with his food and now thoroughly enjoys spicy foods. - Jon does care a lot but his grandma never taught him to show it in any other way but tolerance and mute acceptance. It's hard to know where you stand with Jon because of this. - Was a runner while in school. - Was forced to take violin lessons as a kid and Georgie taught him some piano in University. - Jon is and always has been feral little man though he is more bark than bite (unless he's under the influence of something). He learned it from his grandma. - He's one of those drunks that often wanders/ runs away from his drinking group. He has strong drunk college girl tendencies. - He changed his middle name to Ulysses when he got his first name legally changed because he’s a nerd. - Jon has had the same pen pal since he was 10. They are one of the few points of normalcy he has left. - Jon and Daisy are trans mlm and wlw solidarity. Fight me.

Fun Fact: Sims means "the Listener" which seems almost too on the nose.

[artificialqueens]

Different People (Different Arguments), 1/14 (Branjie/Jankie) - Ortega

a/n: once upon a time there was an author named Ortega who wrote war and fucking peace of a the thick of it au called Just the Game We’re In. she finished it and was proud of it and everything was fine. then suddenly, it turned out one of the main characters was…well, we’ll park that. so Ortega then decided to rewrite it with different girls, a few different details, and a different title. and it’s called Different People (Different Arguments)! and chapter one is here now for u all to enjoy (i hope).

(ps. no i’ve not forgotten about strictly au)

fic summary: Brooke Lynn is a political advisor for a government department where she has to contend with an incompetent Minister, maintaining her stone-cold bitch image, working alongside a press team of slackers, and the Prime Minister’s ever-so-slightly terrifying enforcer breathing down her neck 24/7. So when a familiar face from her past arrives as her new boss, she’s not exactly thrilled to add another problem to her ever-growing pile.

And then she admits she’s got a crush on her coworker.

In this chapter: A standard working day is turned on its head when Brooke has to play a role in engineering Cabinet Minister Darienne Lake’s resignation.

***

High heels. The definitive sound of Brooke’s job. Day in, day out the click-clack, click-clack sound would echo through the offices, closely followed by the constantly ringing phones and the tap-tap-tap of keyboards. Often there was also shouting, the volume of which was never helped by the design of the building which allowed every whisper to be amplified by around a million decibels and broadcast into the lobby.

Brooke hated the new building. She’d hated the idea of moving into it, insisting it would reflect badly on their party and cost them in the polls.

“What kind of message is it going to send out?” she’d rolled her eyes, tearing her hands through her hair. “If we’re trying to tell the public we’re still in touch with them and understand their fears of another recession it doesn’t exactly help moving into what looks like Aquaman’s secret fucking lair.”

She had been ignored, of course, as the decision had already been made. Brooke often wondered what the point of being a political advisor was if nobody ever actually listened to your advice, especially since the person you were supposed to be giving advice to seemed to be blundering about the world of politics like a headless chicken. Darienne Lake had been head of the Department for Social Affairs and Citizenship (Dosac for short) for quite some time now. Too long, Brooke thought. It was harrowing working for a woman who was clearly in the wrong profession, watching her get slammed by the media almost daily as a result of the latest crackpot policy she’d dreamed up. Brooke could’ve left the department a long time ago, should’ve left a long time ago. But she didn’t.

Politics was all about climbing the ladder and making connections. It was a game of chess, and over the years Brooke had seen many people make the wrong move both in and out of the public eye and subsequently watched them get disposed of. She’d seen people cross to the other side, watched both her own party and the opposition divide and conquer. It was all extremely black and white. The party line was a tightrope you had to walk. If you stepped out of line, you fell off the tightrope. If you weren’t up to date on what the line was, the tightrope got cut.  

Brooke could appreciate it wouldn’t sound hugely appealing to someone who didn’t live, breathe, eat, sleep and shit politics. However, this was her world. It had been her world since she’d started watching the news when she was six years old and heard her family talk about the politicians on the screen, and her need to be within the political realm only intensified when she left school and went to uni to study politics and economics, her drive and determination ensuring she graduated with a first class degree. Something that never got old to Brooke were people’s reactions when they discovered she wasn’t some dyed blonde lobotomy job who’d slept her way up the ladder. She wanted to keep giving people that shock day after day, and if that meant staying and advising an under-qualified, over-privileged cabinet Minister, then she could grit her teeth and bear it.

The echoey click-clack of Brooke’s heels provided a soundtrack as she briskly made her way across the black tiles of the department building’s lobby and pressed one red acrylic nail to the button of the lift, the doors sliding open almost instantly. As she stepped inside, quickly checking her reflection in the mirror, there was the frenzied sound of heels on tiles and a panicked yelling.

“Hold the lift!”

Smiling to herself, Brooke held the doors open as a small, pint-sized blonde ball of energy hurtled through them. Catching her breath and smoothing down her white shift dress, she shot her friend a quick smile.

“Morning, girl!”

“Hey, Jan. Great timing,” Brooke smirked as her friend fixed her windswept hair in the mirror.

If you’d ever asked Brooke if she could’ve seen herself becoming best friends with a previous member of the opposition she would have laughed in your face, but Jan was an exception. She had crossed the floor three months ago, finding a job as one of Darienne’s junior policy advisors after she became disillusioned with the ruthless ideals of the opposition. From what Brooke had heard, the offices of Nicky Doll’s party had been a little cliquey and Jan had wanted to spread her wings. Understandably, Brooke had been suspicious of her at first but Jan had been persistently kind and sweet to her to the point where Brooke basically blinked and they were friends as well as colleagues.

“What’s on the Minister’s agenda today then?” Brooke laughed humourlessly, leaning against the lift’s cool metal wall. “Are we demanding the extension of all buses by 30 centimetres? Bringing back the ha’penny? Outlawing kids?”

Jan threw her head back and laughed. “No, although all very possible Darienne ideas. We’ve to sort the public transport data before 5pm. That’s the only real pressing thing we have to do today.”

Brooke felt uneasy. The prospect of 24 hours that didn’t seem like being strapped to a bullet train speeding through fire seemed too good to be true. Something was always going wrong at Dosac and the fact that the only important thing they had to do with their day was to type some figures into an excel spreadsheet was suspicious.

“How was your weekend anyway?” Jan asked, smiling kindly.

Brooke thought back to the previous two days which were spent holed up in her studio flat eating instant noodles and working her way through expenses forms which the Minister should have been doing herself.

“Oh, you know…just a quiet one,” she gave Jan a small smile, which she returned.

The elevator doors opened and Brooke and Jan made their way to their desks. They were stopped in their tracks by a tiny, olive-skinned woman with flowing dark locks of hair babbling away at them at about a mile a minute. Smirking, Brooke shared an affectionate glance with Jan.

“And good morning to you too, human megaphone,” Brooke smiled, lazily throwing her jacket over her desk as the girl rolled her eyes.

“Brooke Lynn! This is serious shit. It would help if you made it into fuckin’ work on time,” she snapped back, pacing back and forth in her heels with worry.

“Relax, Vanessa. We were only a minute off, Darienne’s not going to be in for another fifteen,” Jan smiled lazily, kicking her heels off as she lounged in the wheely chair behind her desk. “Anyway, what’s the panic? It’s a chill day.”

There was one second of almost-silence as the clicks of computer mouses and the whirr of monitors were the only sounds in the room. Then, Vanessa’s eyes widened in horror. Brooke’s stomach dropped as she met Jan’s eyes- she’d known the prospect of a quiet day had been a veritable pipe dream.

“A chill…shit, you guys didn’t get the briefing that Nina sent out? Oh Christ, what am I doin’ even asking that.”

“Are my ears burning?” came a sleepy voice from down the hall. A figure emerged bundled up in countless scarves and woollen cardigans, her blonde frizzy curls only just visible through the layers of clothing. Her manicured fingernails were curled around a Starbucks cup, which she was clinging to for dear life.

“Morning, Nina! Great timing!” Vanessa greeted her sarcastically.

“Ignore her, girl. She hasn’t had her morning shot of Sambuca yet,” Jan drawled, smiling at the human game of pass the parcel who was currently detangling herself from her mummification of knitted clothing. Nina was Dosac’s press secretary who was kind and easy-going but also did the bare minimum, as her determination started and ended at getting home to her wife Monét and the latest episode of EastEnders every day. The girls all both loved her and were vexed by her in equal measures as it was often near to impossible to get any information from her or through her. But Brooke had to admit she did make a good cup of tea.

“Nina. Is there a reason why these bitches haven’t been briefed on Darienne’s interview with Raja Gemini today?” asked Vanessa.

Brooke threw her head back and groaned. Oh, fuck. This was bad news. Raja was one of the fiercest bitches in the media, a BBC journalist who was almost impossible to influence with spin. Fixing Nina with a stony glare, she was irritated even more when she simply shrugged.

“Vanessa, that email was sent to me at four minutes past five yesterday evening and you know fine well that the moment it hits five o’clock my out of office is on and my work phone is off,” Nina raised her eyebrows, curling her Bluetooth headset round her ear as she logged into her computer.

“Christ. So the Minister has a Gemini interview and we’ve got no idea what it’s meant to be covering,” Brooke massaged her temples slowly.

“Well, I’ll tell you what it’s about. She’s runnin’ with the mobile phone policy,” Vanessa sighed, nodding fiercely as both Brooke and Jan cried out in disbelief.

“Absolutely not. I thought we’d convinced her that it was a non-starter?!” Jan exclaimed, her tone nothing short of outraged.

“Apparently she’s feelin’ the pressure of the opposition as a result of Nicky pushing to cut down on Co2 emissions, so she wants to bring out a policy that goes hand in hand with that so the government can look good.”

“That doesn’t even make any fucking sense! God, Nicky could sneeze and she’d be ‘feeling the pressure’. Sometimes it’s like this department’s being run by a startled cat,” Jan sighed, pushing her blow-dried waves of hair away from her face with her hand.

“Yeah, I always think watching her decision-making process is like watching an enormous baby trying to do calculus,” Brooke piped up, humour masking the genuine, real fear that this disastrous policy was about to go live. Its basic premise was to fine people who used their phones while they walked, to avoid collisions between pedestrians on the streets and therefore reduce waiting times at Accident and Emergency as there were less injuries. It was absolutely insane, but then this was a typical Darienne Lake policy. Vanessa had once told Brooke that she often genuinely wondered if someone was sneaking cocaine into Darienne’s pasta salads.

Obviously suffering from a rare pang of guilt, Vanessa sighed as she leant against Jan’s desk. “I don’t know. I think sometimes this party’s way too harsh on her. And the press.”

“Can you blame them?!” Brooke snorted derisively. “It sucks, but if you’re a woman in politics and you go out in dresses that look like someone put stick-on diamantes onto a burlap sack mid-seizure, of course Hello magazine are going to have a field day.”

“Come on, Brooke Lynn, you gotta admit that she’s a very nice woman,” Vanessa shook her head, laughing only slightly.

“Being a very nice woman doesn’t make you a good politician, though,” Jan chipped in with a grimace.

“So you’re going to follow her when she eventually goes then, Vanessa?” Nina piped up from behind her monitor, her eyebrows raised high into her blonde curls. Vanessa bit her lip.

“…well. I still want some form of career, let’s not take it too far.”

The three girls laughed as Vanessa blushed pink. Vanessa’s loyalty to Darienne didn’t stretch all that far. When Darienne had entered the job last year it had also meant she had arrived as Darienne’s senior advisor. It had quickly become clear to Brooke that Vanessa had got to where she was by telling people what they wanted to hear, smiling and nodding at every turn as Darienne drove the department into one dead end after another. Brooke admired Vanessa’s craftiness; her method of going along with whatever Darienne wanted meant that whenever the time came to blame someone Darienne never looked her way. Of course, Vanessa secretly hated basically every idea that Darienne had and quickly grew to trust Brooke (and eventually Jan when she joined the party) as somebody she could share her true feelings with. Over her time as part of Dosac the three girls had become great friends, forming a sort of secret alliance of common sense against Darienne’s crazy politics. She didn’t look in any way like a traditional government advisor, but Brooke still thought she was amazing.

At her job, that is.

“Face it, V,” Jan smiled sleepily, giving a stretch as Brooke shook herself out of her daydream. “Everyone’s running from Darienne like…ugh, I’m crap at one-liners at this time of the morning. Brooke, help me out?”

“Like she runs from Weight Watchers? Like obesity runs in her family? Like McDonald’s employees run whenever she steps foot in the building? Come on, Jan, that one was easy.”

“Guys, c’mon! That’s both way harsh an’ fatphobic as shit. Check yourself,” Vanessa chastised her friends, shaking her head. Jan pulled a guilty face and made a helpless gesture.

“All I’m saying is that Darienne Lake is sinking like the Titanic, if the Titanic was on fire and made entirely of burning shit, and we’re going to be playing the violins if we don’t start distancing ourselves from her as soon as we can,” she yawned.

“Does shit float or sink?” pondered Brooke as she chewed a pen.

“That’s not really the point here,” Jan rolled her eyes.

“Look, I don’ give a shit about burlap sacks, or burnin’ shit, or spitroasting or whatever the fuck you guys are talking ‘bout, I just think she’s gonna notice if we start lookin’ like we’re about to jump ship!” Vanessa cried, flustered.

Jan and Brooke shared a concerned look.

“I didn’t say anything about spitroasting. Do you even know what spitroasting is?” Brooke laughed uproariously. Jan and Nina giggled as Vanessa shot Brooke a displeased glare.

“No. It don’t sound very classy,” she sniffed, scrolling through her phone nonchalantly. As the laughter died down, Nina sighed from her desk.

“Even if she does notice, it won’t be an issue. I heard Bianca’s sorting her departure.”

The three girls gave Nina equally shocked glances, their jaws slack at this bomb of information coming from someone who was usually so little help.

“You…heard something? You have working ears? You have a working set of five senses?” Brooke teased her, gobsmacked but also a little excited at the prospect of getting someone competent in to run the department.

“Hey, I am actually of some use sometimes! Akeria over at Richmond Terrace told me at our last meeting.”

All at once, Brooke deflated in her seat. “Right, so what you really mean is…a senior press officer for the opposition told you that Bianca was planning to get rid of Darienne, knowing she’d eventually find out and making sure she’d become rattled so that Nicky would be able to capitalize on the fact that she’d be acting more like a bat on Ritalin than normal.”

Seeing Nina’s peeved expression, Jan piped up. “I’m sure there’s some element of truth in it, Brooke. I mean, Akeria’s not exactly party loyal, she’s just a civil servant.”

Brooke gave a little exhale. Jan was kind to the point of frustrating sometimes. “Well, if what Nina is saying is a fact-”

“Excuse me, I’m not Beedle the fucking Bard!” Nina cut in, resembling a meerkat as her head popped over the top of her monitor.

“- then maybe we should start distancing ourselves,” Brooke finished, shooting Nina an irked look, annoyed at having been interrupted. She noticed that Vanessa was giving her a confused sort of glance.

“How? How do we create distance when we’re advising the bitch?” she stammered, clearly becoming nervous at the prospect of a minor coup. Brooke laughed. These were the situations where Vanessa’s inexperience showed and, although it was sometimes tedious having to hold her hand through such conditions, it was also ever so slightly endearing.

“Don’t panic, ‘Ness, it’ll be fine. Bianca will have it taken care of,” she smiled, trying her best to reassure her friend.

Casting her eye to the clock, Jan narrowed her eyes. “V, you should probably head downstairs and meet the Minister. Her car’s going to be pulling up in, like, a minute.”

Cursing, Vanessa trotted towards the lifts as fast as her high heels could carry her. Brooke watched as she left, then exhaled loudly as she switched her computer on. Trying her best to relax, she cast her eye over the office. Apart from one glass-fronted room at the far end which belonged to Darienne, the majority of it was open plan. It was mostly filled with identical IKEA desks which were all the same shade of creamy grey and topped with piles and piles of work. Vanessa’s desk was messy with post-it notes plastered all round the screen of her monitor, encroaching on top of the piles of folders and ringbinders like some kind of horrific, neon disease. Brooke’s own was a sort of middle ground- most things were ordered but the nature of the job meant that sometimes a chaos of papers, files and briefing notes would sometimes hurricane itself across her desk. A stark contrast to the other two, Jan’s desk was like a beacon of order and tidiness in the hectic office. Everything had its place, her folders were all stored neatly and were colour-coded, and a packet of disinfectant wipes sat just beside the screen of her monitor. Their desks represented the three of them quite well.

Over to her left beside the lifts sat the cluster of desks which housed the communications team. Nina sat at its helm, situated near the desks of the advisors. To the right of Nina’s desk sat the two senior press officers, Scarlet and Yvie, and to Nina’s left were the two junior press officers, Jaida (who Brooke often thought to be far more competent than Nina and often prayed the two would somehow find themselves in some form of Freaky Friday body swap) and Adore, whose chair was empty. Brooke rolled her eyes hard- Adore had started as a civil service intern and Darienne had ended up keeping her on permanently. It had been another one of her diabolical decisions as Adore was ever so slightly scatterbrained, preferred scrolling her socials to tackling any of the pile of incomplete work the size of Kilimanjaro on her desk, and devoted around 90% of her day to making cups of tea. As a person she was great fun and brought a certain element of life to the office when everyone was down, but as someone Brooke had to work with she was a challenge. There had been many times where Brooke had fleetingly thought of pushing over the pile of folders on her desk one day and killing her, doing the department a great service.  

Before Brooke could even open her emails, Darienne was marching through the department with Vanessa following behind her holding two large, red briefcases.

“Morning, morning!” she sing-songed as she made her way into her office. “Meeting in ten, yes ladies?”

Brooke shrugged half-heartedly in response, scrolling through her emails with disinterest. As she watched Darienne swing her office door shut she let out a huge, bored sigh.

There was suddenly a flurry of activity as the sound of approaching footsteps thundered along the corridor. Soon enough, a small girl with wide eyes, cheeks flushed pink and blonde hair with black roots appeared and flung herself down into the empty desk beside Jaida. Getting herself comfy, she kicked her heeled boots off and fired up her computer. Adore had arrived.

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph, ain’t anyone able to get to work on time?!” Vanessa hissed, exasperated and trying desperately to mask the fact that Adore had only just arrived at the office. Sipping on the coffee that was no doubt in her porcelain keep cup, Adore shot her a slack-jawed smile as the other press officers looked up from their work.

“Hey, I was working, thank you very much! I was doing important party business before I got here.”

“What kind of important party business?” asked Yvie, her interest piqued at the thought of Adore voluntarily doing any work.

“Laila McQueen,” Adore beamed, taking another big, loud sip. Jan laughed as Brooke rolled her eyes so hard they threatened to fall out her sockets. “Hey, it just means we have The Independent on our side for the next couple of days!”

“Good work, girl. You’re like a broadsheet Julia Roberts. I didn’t know Bianca had started pimping people out,” Scarlet shot Adore a sarcastic grin and received a tight-lipped smile and one middle finger in response which made her snort a laugh.

“Yeah, yeah, very good, Adore, real impressive. That’s your one minute of glory up. You think you could go and get us some tea? And maybe some pastries, Darienne’ll probably be hungry,” Vanessa ordered, Adore pouting and lazily rising from her desk.

“Probably? It’s not like there’s an element of doubt to it,” Brooke snorted a laugh. “Get her a cinnamon roll the size of a fucking Swiss cheese, that should do her fine.”

Five minutes later, Brooke found herself sipping a subpar cup of tea in Darienne’s office, craving the sweet embrace of death as she listened to her witter on about how Raja Gemini wasn’t that intimidating, and that contrary to popular belief she was able to hold her own against the big journalists. Jan was attempting to talk her down from the ledge of misplaced confidence she had seemed to have clambered up to, Vanessa was doing her best impersonation of a nodding dog, and Nina was sleepily casting her eyes between Darienne and Jan as they spoke, her notebook blank.

“Do you have a strong opening line?” Jan asked the Minister nervously, prodding at her lip with nerves. Darienne smiled smugly, leaning back and relaxing in her chair.

“Once we implement these fines, the waiting times at A&E will be shorter than the waiting times at McDonalds. Ambulances will practically start operating drive thrus!” she reeled off, grinning proudly at the line she’d clearly spent hours thinking up. Stifling laughter, Brooke watched the reactions of the other girls. Nina’s pen hovered above her notebook hesitantly as if she couldn’t quite believe she had to write the drivel down, and Vanessa and Jan were staring at each other, wide-eyed with incredulity.

“Jesus. I’ve seen stronger newborn children,” Brooke sighed as she leant forward and sat her cup of tea on Darienne’s desk, too disgusted to attempt to drink any more.  “That cup of tea was stronger than that opening line.”

“Hey! I spent all night thinking that up,” Darienne cried, offended. Jan furrowed her brow.

“Honestly Darienne, it does kind of sound like you pulled it out of your ass.”

“Speaking of assholes, Bianca’s in the building,” Nina spoke up, checking her phone. The mood in the room suddenly plummeted.

Everyone was afraid of Bianca. The only separating factor was just how afraid they were of Bianca. She was the prime Minister’s enforcer and spin doctor, the lady who made it clear to everyone in government that they had to know the line and toe the line, often spinning the party out of crises like a terrifying dreidel. She had no time for time wasters, bluffers, blue-sky thinkers, or people who weren’t one hundred percent capable of doing their job, and often unleashed hell on those that weren’t. Brooke was a big girl, she could handle herself, but there was still something about the authority that Bianca radiated and how intimidating she was that made her just that little bit nervous. She knew she had an easy-going side, but Brooke hadn’t seen it often.

“She looking for us?” Vanessa asked nervously.

“No, I’m sure she’s walking around the department trying to get her steps in for the day. What do you think?!” Nina hissed back, glaring momentarily at Vanessa then back to her phone. “Any second now…”

“Good morning, Bianca,” Jan greeted as a woman strode confidently into the office on six-inch Louboutins. Despite the fact her caramel waves of hair had a slight haze of frizz from the drizzle outside she was otherwise perfectly put-together, wearing a matching black suit jacket and pencil skirt combo. Her makeup was bright like the patterns on a poisonous frog and her lips were painted with bright red lipstick. Or perhaps that was just the blood of another poor cabinet Minister.

“Yes, good morning, and I’m hoping it’s going to be a good fucking morning, because this one-” she trained a single black fake nail on Darienne’s face “-is fully prepped for her Gemini interview at 12, correct?”

“Don’t worry Bianca. I was up all night,” Darienne gave her a saccharine sweet smile, which Bianca turned her nose up at.

“So you’re fully aware she thinks it’s an utterly fucking horrible idea?” Bianca tilted her head very slightly.

“She’s not the only one,” Jan muttered, just loud enough for Brooke to hear.

Darienne looked somewhat put out, her face falling. Sighing, Brooke looked to the ceiling. Vanessa was right- the Minister was a nice lady, but how in the hell could she think that policy was anything less than an utter car crash?! Brooke began to allow herself to daydream, which admittedly was always a risk in Bianca’s presence, but already this day was like a huge, massive wave towering over them all before a tsunami and she needed to disconnect. She was aware of Bianca’s voice tearing into Darienne in the background.

“What if she asks you how many police hours this will take up? What are you going to say then?”

“I would simply point her to the amount of money that this policy would generate, which would well make up for the drain on resources-”

“Jesus H Fuck, who did your media training? Myra Hindley? Don’t use the word ‘drain’! Don’t use any words with any negative connotations whatsoever! I don’t want a single word out of place in this interview; otherwise Gemini is going to start analysing it like Gillian McKeith analyses people’s shit.”

Darienne appeared to think things over for a moment. “So can I…I mean…can I use the word no?”

Brooke only just stopped herself from physically slapping her hand to her forehead. Bianca looked incredulously at the faces of the four other girls, each as long-suffering as the last.

“Have I suddenly imagined a storybook character into life? Did a child make a wish on a shooting star last night, is that why fucking Moon-Face is sitting at a desk in front of me? Are the other Faraway Tree friends about to walk in through the door and start running the country?”

Darienne cast her eyes to the floor, the message well and truly received.

“You mentioned the amount of money that this would generate. Is this going to be the saving grace of this policy? Is this going to be the diamond ring within the shit of the dog who accidentally ate it?”

“You’re very faecally focussed today, Bianca,” Jan piped up with a frown as Brooke stifled a laugh.

“Yeah, well. It’s hard not to be when you’re within a 5 mile radius of this department,” she scoffed.

“Well within the first month, we’re looking to generate around…um, Vanessa?” Darienne cast her eyes to the senior advisor, whose gaze shifted to Bianca nervously.  

“Unbelievable. She can’t even retain her own fucking figures. Come on then, Britain’s number fifteen Rihanna impersonator, give me some good fucking news.”

“Uh, we think…well, Darienne thinks…that within the first month of enforcement we could generate around £25,000 in £50 fines.”

Bianca’s face grew very gradually cold, Vanessa freezing to the spot as if she’d just been stared at by Medusa. Even Brooke shivered.

“You mean to tell me,” she began, her voice extremely measured and shaking only slightly. “That out of a population of 64 million people, who normally stumble around the streets with their heads in their phone screens like puppets with their strings cut, we’d be able to fine…500 a month?”

“Well, we deliberately predicted under target so that the actual figure would come as a pleasant surprise!” Darienne smiled back, completely nonplussed at Bianca’s rage.

“If I could interject, I don’t seem to remember there being any ‘we’ about it,” Nina spoke up dryly, before lowering her head back down into her notebook.

“I really love the logic of this department. Maybe you should all become teachers! 50 add 50 equals 25, and when you find out that the real answer is actually 100, well that’s just a fucking pleasant surprise, isn’t it?! The crime stats from the last quarter revealed that there had been 73 murders committed, except- what a nice surprise! There were actually 78, because we forgot to count your five fucking bodies after I ripped them to fucking shreds!”

Brooke had no idea why Darienne was so calm. It was like her brain had been replaced by a huge goldfish bowl. Vanessa, however, looked a little shell-shocked, and Brooke couldn’t help the pang her heart gave as her protective instincts took over.

Only for a moment, though.

“We’ve got time to accumulate some more accurate figures. They wouldn’t be bang on, but definitely a lot more impressive than £25,000, and they’d probably placate Gemini,” Brooke shrugged, sitting up a little straighter in her seat as she addressed Bianca. Casting her frown Brooke’s way, Bianca seemed to calm down very slightly.

“Finally someone in this room that isn’t a massive, walking, talking sac of amniotic fluid. Get it done, okay? I’ll see you all after the interview.”

As Bianca left the room, the other girls all visibly relaxed. Vanessa began rubbing at her shoulder, clearly tense after being momentarily in the firing line. Flustered, Darienne finally spoke.

“Right well, Brooke, if you could sort that out within the hour,” she smiled, as if she was in control in any way. “Jan and Nina, if you could stay with me so that we can smooth out the finer details of this interview, and Vanessa if you could get started on the transport data please.”

“Uh, that ain’t gonna be possible, Minister, ‘cause I got a lot of stuff left over from yesterday an’ I still need to send that email over to Nick at the treasury, an’ uh…” Vanessa suddenly blurted out, clearly still slightly rattled from Bianca’s visit. Brooke screwed her face up. What the fuck was she doing? Darienne looked equally perplexed as Vanessa stammered a correction. “I mean…no, yeah, of course. I’ll get it done as soon as I can.”

As Darienne dismissed them and Brooke and Vanessa marched out of the office, Brooke immediately grabbed her by the arm and wrenched her into the toilets.

“Brooke Lynn! What the hell?!” Vanessa protested, her eyes fiery.

“What the hell was that in the office there?!”

Vanessa knit her brows together. “You told us to start distancing ourselves from her! I was tryin’ my fuckin’ best!”

“Yeah, distancing yourself, not starting a revolution! Am I talking to someone who works in politics or a seventeen year old who just got a D in their Modern Studies A-level?!” Brooke sighed, exasperated. She regretted it immediately when she saw Vanessa’s shoulders slump forward as she did her best impression of a kicked puppy.

“I’m sorry,” Vanessa muttered, shaking her head slightly. “I just…Bianca kinda panicked me.”

Without thinking, Brooke rested her hand on Vanessa’s arm in an attempt to comfort her. “Look…I know it’s hard for you. I get that you entered politics  as Darienne’s aide and that if she goes, the road ahead is going to be kind of…non-existent. Well, not non-existent, just extremely winding and bumpy and parts of it might not have been built yet. But you’re party loyal, right?”

Vanessa nodded silently. “I’m not a fuckin’ hack. I came into this job so I could help change things for people, except sometimes I just feel like we’re not doing much good.”

“Yeah, well. That’s because the PM is too balls-deep in his secretary to run the country for more than five minutes, but anyway. The point is that you’ll be okay, we’ll all be okay! You, me, Jan. The dream team,” Brooke beamed at her, her heart soaring as Vanessa’s face lit up. “Just keep following whatever Darienne does, but keep your ears open. Any sign of a possible new option, glue yourself to them. Do your best leech impression.”

Vanessa’s face contorted as she took Brooke’s last comment literally, and both of them shared a laugh.

“But don’t panic. Like Jan said, Bianca’s going to sort it. You saw her in there, she’s at the end of her tether with that giant egg we’ve got running the department. We’ll be fine.”

As Vanessa giggled, Brooke found herself blushing very slightly. Stepping forward that little bit more, she wrapped her arms around Vanessa in a gentle hug. She smelt of a very sweet, sugary perfume, and momentarily Brooke found it hard to let go, her heart thudding in her ribcage.

“Thanks, Brooke. You’re a sweetheart,” Vanessa smiled bashfully as she pulled away, sweeping her hair behind her ears. Brooke cast her eyes to the floor, embarrassed by the compliment.

“Come on. We’ve got work to do. You should start doctoring those transport stats for fun.”

Pushing open the door, Vanessa laughed and raised her eyebrows. “I got a C in my Modern Studies A-level anyway, so I don’t appreciate the accusation, ma’am.”

As the two girls made their way back to their desks, Brooke tried to clear her head. The conversation had dredged up a lot of feelings she’d been trying to repress. She didn’t have a crush on Vanessa. She wasn’t attracted to her like that at all. She was just protective of her, and she couldn’t help it if she was cute when she was flustered, or nervous, or happy, or irritated, or doing anything. That was just a fact. It didn’t mean she liked her as anything more than a friend.

Besides, the position of token workplace lesbian couple had already been filled by Scarlet and Yvie.

***

Brooke sighed, her disapproval hidden in the darkness of the news studio along with cameras, a teleprompter, and Vanessa. Why in the name of God was this interview live? It was barbaric to screen a brutal murder on lunchtime TV. Christ, there could be kids watching. Casting her eyes to the ceiling, she knew that Nina could have helped the situation. She could’ve pushed for it to be pre-recorded. But in her head she was already hearing the excuse about Raven at the BBC being “such a nice girl”, and that “she complimented my outfit once at Alyssa’s book launch”, so perhaps there was never any chance of it being anything but live.

As the Minister stammered and stuttered her way through her lines, Brooke wondered how Raja was able to keep such a stony, cold expression. She was essentially watching the complete breakdown of Darienne’s political credibility in front of her, that was surely worth some pity. Contemplating the situation, Brooke supposed that having pity wasn’t really going to do a journalist any favours. Raja had been out at Gaza, for fuck’s sake. She was hardly going to be sympathetic to this human pannacotta sat in front of her, Darienne’s voice wobbling and wavering over every line she spoke as Raja’s eyes bore into her.

Brooke looked briefly to Vanessa, who was just looking at Darienne sadly. Brooke had to feel sorry for her. Vanessa had placed her trust in the Minister to introduce her to the world of politics, a world she clearly wanted to be a part of for all the right reasons, and yet this was the thanks she got. Sitting having to watch her boss pedal horrific policy after horrific policy and watching as her and her colleagues got constantly ignored.

She deserved better.

Momentarily Brooke thought about making a joke, but reasoned that it would probably go down as well as a lead balloon. Instead, she texted Jan, safe from the debris of Darienne’s collapsing career at the office where she, Bianca and the communications team were all watching.    

B: Jesus. I’ve seen ISIS condemned for less than this.

There was a pause as Jan texted back. Brooke tuned back into the interview.

“…shorter than the, um, waiting times at McDonalds. Ambulances will practically start operating drive thrus!”

Brooke audibly groaned. Darienne had obviously inflated her life belt, pulling out her precious line as a last-ditch attempt to save the interview. Raja was less impressed.

“That sounds like an extremely serious comparison, Minister, you’re saying that this policy will simply rush patients through A&E as if they were…a burger? How thorough will doctors and nurses be?”

And there Darienne was again, back to flailing around the interview as if she was drowning.

J: I’ve never seen a human being reduced to actual liquid before. Hope you have a tub to transport her back to the office.

B: How’s Bianca holding up?

A pause.

J: I’ve seen mothers look less disgusted at their own afterbirth.

B: I really hope you haven’t.

***

The first thing Brooke, Darienne and Vanessa were greeted with on their arrival back at the office was Nina, a frown on her face.

“Well I’m glad that interview went so well. We’ve been fending off calls from several papers asking if this policy is, quote, the government’s dying whalesong, and The Sun are planning to run with the headline ‘Would you like dies with that’, in reference to the suggestion that the NHS is about to go down the drain.”

Brooke shook her head in contempt. “Imagine going to university for three years, getting a first in journalism, and then being paid to come up with that crap.”

“Absolutely. I think we should run with the line that these accusations are nonsensical,” Darienne bristled, annoyed that her pride and joy of a policy wasn’t making the impact it was supposed to. Brooke snapped her head round to face the Minister.

“I mean, I don’t think we can cover our backs that easily. You did that interview sounding as if you’d just survived a house fire, I mean why did you include that drive-thru line?!”

“It was an emergency! It was a last ditch attempt, I had to do something!” Darienne barked back, her face set in a frown.

Vanessa butted in. “An emergency line? A line to be used in an emergency? What the hell were the instructions? In case of emergency, break glass by throwin’ yourself through the top floor window of Broadcasting House?!”

The shouting match was stopped abruptly as Jan’s calm drawl trailed through the office. “Brooke, I just got a text from Bianca. She said she wants to see you in her office in five minutes, and if you’re late she’s going to make you stand in the Dosac lobby on a hot day and watch your face fry off.”

A horrified pause. “Her words, not mine.”

Exhaling noisily, Brooke grabbed her bag from where she’d just thrown it down on her desk. She tried to ignore Darienne’s smug smile as she made her way to the lift and a meeting with the most feared woman in politics.

***

Being able to see the inner workings of 10 Downing Street was like the part in The Wizard Of Oz when the curtain gets pulled back to reveal the Wizard as a sham. On the outside, it was the most perfect professional façade, a backdrop for thousands of press announcements, resignations and appointments. On the inside it resembled a prison riot at best, a hive of people running around trying to fix something, or spin something, or frantically complete some piece of unfinished work. It was slightly quieter today, Brooke had noticed, as she sat on a hard, wooden chair outside Bianca’s office.

She’d been there dead on time but Bianca was running ten minutes late so far. Lesser, more idiotic humans would call her out on it, but Brooke had a functioning brain and a desire to stay alive until at least the end of the day. She blew a strand of hair out of her face and curled her lip. She hadn’t a clue why Bianca had called her for a meeting and chose to pass up on the opportunity to berate Darienne about that car crash of an interview. If Bianca was looking for someone to blame, it couldn’t be Brooke. She had been under the impression that Bianca found her tolerable, but you could never really tell what her opinions on anything were. The woman’s poker face was so good she could’ve gone professional in Vegas.

The varnished, wooden door of Bianca’s office suddenly swung open, Bianca standing poised in front of Brooke like a bird of prey.

“You’re late,” she sniffed, as she held the door open for Brooke to come in. Mumbling an apology, Brooke slumped down into the leather-bound chair opposite Bianca’s desk and simply waited for whatever was about to come, looking casually around the room. It was a setting she knew all too well- the marble, white fireplace, the eerie green lamp giving off an abnormal white light on her desk. The nondescript paintings of some long-dead war heroes, the bookcases filled with files and files and files. The entire room screamed power and intimidation.

“Do you want a coffee, Brooke?” Bianca began casually as she sat down opposite her. Perplexed, Brooke shook her head.

“I’m okay…I’d kind of just like to find out why I’m here. I mean, aren’t you supposed to be after Darienne?”

Snorting a laugh, Bianca rose from her chair and moved to perch on the edge of her desk. She was slightly above Brooke’s level, but her tone and general aura were quite relaxed, bordering on informal.

“You were friends with Jaqueline Cox at university, correct?”

Ouch. The memories ripped through Brooke’s mind like a migraine. Jackie Cox, the know-it-all in every seminar. Jackie Cox, the try-hard in every presentation. Jackie Cox, with the smug smile and the glossy dark hair and the perfect matching stationary. She knew Jackie, and Brooke knew enough to know she wasn’t a fan.

“Friends is pushing it. She was on the same course as me and was about as irritating as thrush, and that’s all I really had to do with her,” she sniffed in her own non-committal way. Bianca flared her nostrils and made a face, indicating to Brooke that she’d given a wrong answer.

“Okay, maybe my phrasing was a little off. In case you haven’t noticed, you haven’t stumbled into some friendship bracelet craft class, this is Downing Street. So I’ll rephrase the question. Is she any good?”

Brooke felt momentarily like she was trapped in a lion enclosure. “Is she any good at…?”

“At juggling silicone breast implants and walking a tightrope over a lake of tepid piss. Is she any good at politics?!”

“God, I mean…I guess she’d be a good politician,” Brooke admitted begrudgingly. “She’s principled, she’s got strong morals and a backbone. She’s eloquent enough and nowhere near as big a car crash as that sheep’s placenta we’ve got as a Minister.”

Bianca smiled fleetingly, then stood and walked back to her chair, appeased.

“Perfect,” she said, her eyes boring into Brooke’s as she sat down. Looking momentarily behind her, Brooke shifted in her seat.

“So…why are you asking about Jackie?” she asked slowly, drawing each word out just that little bit too long to be necessary in her hesitation. Bianca smiled slowly in return.

“It came to my attention this afternoon that maybe there needs to be some…changes made around here. My party is being made to look like a laughing stock, and I don’t like it,” she growled, her eyes growing dark. “Darienne’s been palming off her expenses forms onto you, correct?”

Brooke nodded silently.

“Maybe it would be in your best interests…and the party’s best interests…to doctor them slightly. Then if they end up in the hands of the media…so be it. She’s left with no credibility, there’s no coming back from that. She’ll have to resign. Then really all that’s left to do is get a replacement in. Smooth as a bottle of Moët,” Bianca shrugged, leaning back in her chair calmly. Blinking twice, Brooke suddenly became apprehensive.

“Bianca, I can’t…I can’t just fake her expenses claims.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Do you have a note from your Mum? Have you got a cold and you can’t take part in this part of your actual job? You’re surprising me, Brooke,” Bianca sighed, clearly disappointed. “I honestly thought you had something different in you. A spine, a brain. Some form of drive, determination to succeed. You love this party, yes? You came into politics to make a difference, right?”

Brooke flinched slightly. Bianca was hitting her where it hurt, and she knew it was going to get a rise out of her. “Of course. I want us to succeed. I want us to change things.”

Bianca smiled, glad to have received a sufficient reaction.

“Then sometimes things have to be done by any means necessary,” she said gravely, running her tongue along her teeth. “If Jackie accepts the offer, she’ll be the new head of Dosac by tomorrow afternoon.”

Something about the whole appointment of Jackie Cox didn’t sit right with Brooke. She was just an annoying, opinionated, mouthy university girl, and there were ten a penny of those in London. Why her? Why not someone slightly more tolerable?

“Why does it have to be Jackie, why can’t it be someone else?” she voiced what she was thinking, annoyed. Bianca laughed, clearly amused.

“Okay, Miss Political Advisor. Advise me, since I’ve clearly not weighed up all the options.”

Stuck for a moment, Brooke’s brain began racing round at a hundred miles an hour. “Kelly Mantle. The back bencher from Education, she’s good.”

“No. She looks too much like a resident of Whoville to be put in the spotlight. Can you imagine when she inevitably fucks up, what the headlines will be? Who dunnit? Whose fault is it this time? Who, who, who, all over the front pages like owls with tourettes.”

Brooke sighed, then perked up with another idea. “What about Bianca Castro from Health?”

“Who, Jiggly?” Bianca asked, nonplussed.

“…Bianca Castro. She has a good track record, the public would love her-”

“Yeah, Jiggly.”

“Bianca, her name isn’t Jiggly.”

“The media damn well think it is after they got hold of those photos of her at the all-you-can-eat world buffet. Not exactly astounding publicity for a junior health Minister. She’s going nowhere.”

Brooke barely held in a grunt of frustration. “Ongina, that MP for-”

“Her name literally sounds like vagina. PR disaster. Next.”

“Jade Jolie.”

“She couldn’t run a bath, never mind a department.”

“Lashawn, then?!”

Bianca threw her head back and hooted a laugh. “You’re joking, right? Can you imagine her even trying to pronounce some of the names on the immigration database? She stays firmly on the back bench.”

Brooke pouted a little, frustration seeping out of every pore. Seeing her obvious displeasure, Bianca’s tone became placating, the woman’s softer side making a rare appearance.

“Look. Right now, we need strong leaders in this party. Jackie is about as strong as we’re going to get from what I’ve heard, and we need her to steer us out of this ditch that Darienne’s gradually lowered us into. You don’t need to worry about a thing, apart from those expenses forms. I’ll take care of it,” she smiled, reassuring Brooke as she stood and made to leave. Before she reached the door, a thought suddenly struck her like iced lightning, freezing her to the spot.

“Bianca…” Brooke began hesitantly. “Do you think Jackie will come with her own people? I mean, I’m not hugely up to date with her movements, so I don’t know how prepared she’ll be, and I’m fine, I can look after myself, you know? But like, Vanessa…and Jan, of course. Will she…will they get to keep their jobs?”

Bianca’s eyes were instantly on her, searching and wondering about the hidden agenda behind Brooke’s question. “I’ve worked with you for a while, Brooke Lynn. I must say, I’ve never seen you get attached to anyone in this game.”

“Well, you know,” Brooke shrugged, maintaining a cool exterior. “We work well together. We’re a good team. And she’s a valuable member of the department, that’s all.”

“Vanessa or Jan?” Bianca questioned.

“They both are! I just…I just want to make sure they’ll both be fine.”

Bianca moved to the doorway, gently showing her out. “Just doctor those expenses. Try not to pop a blood vein while doing so.”

Sighing, Brooke shook Bianca’s hand and click-clacked her way down the marble hallway towards the famous black door. Not too far along the corridor, she heard Bianca call after her.

“Brooke Lynn!”

She turned around sharply.

“Loyalty gets remembered in this party. Especially by me.”

***

Brooke hit send on her email to Bianca at 5.30pm on the dot. Darienne had claimed for Ubers from here to Downing Street, business lunches at nearby curry houses, and, just for laughs, a helicopter. Brooke had felt a little guilty fabricating it all, but it was impossible not to. If she had a complete lack of morals she’d be working for Nicky’s party, not Darienne’s. However, as Bianca had said, it was for the good of the party that she had to go.

She was still unsure about Jackie though. If everything went smoothly, by this time tomorrow she’d be sitting in Darienne’s office barking orders at her. It would be like every university group project all over again. Brooke had never actively disliked Jackie, she’d just found her grating. She was slightly unique, though. True, there were many girls of her type on her course, argumentative and challenging, but there were few that held their composure so well throughout a debate, maintaining class and superiority the entire time. Maybe that’s why she’d rubbed Brooke the wrong way so violently. Anyway, there had been a good eight years separating her time at uni and her time within the realm of politics. Perhaps Jackie was different now.  

Shutting down her computer, she swivelled her chair round to face the other girls. She’d communicated to everyone through hushed whispers that Bianca’s plan was being put into effect immediately, creating an excited buzz around the office for the last few hours of the day. Regrettably she’d noticed that Vanessa had become more subdued because of it, the girl clearly wondering where this left her career. Brooke wanted nothing more than to see her happy again. She just hadn’t had time to attempt to cheer her up in between the expenses and finishing the transport data.

It looked as if Adore had already left, her chair empty and her bag gone with her half-empty coffee cup on her desk. Nina had long since vanished, her desk clear and any evidence of her ever having been there completely gone. Jaida was clearly in for the long shift, still working steadily through her excel spreadsheet with an energy drink by her keyboard. Jan was pulling on her coat, fixing her hair rapidly, and Scarlet and Yvie looked ready to leave too. Vanessa suddenly appeared in front of her.

“Hey,” she smiled gently. “We’re goin’ for a drink, think we could all do with one after today. You coming?”

Brooke fleetingly thought of a night with the girls, of just having a laugh and being slightly less stressed than normal. The thought of a glass of wine was tempting, but then the immediate thought of work the next day and how chaotic it would be made her decision for her.

“Sorry, ‘Ness. I’m going to head back. Next time though, yeah?” Brooke gave a tight smile, sighing a little when Vanessa’s face grew slightly more disappointed than before. As she nodded understandingly and turned to leave, Brooke suddenly grabbed her hand without really knowing why. Checking the office to see if anyone was looking at them, Vanessa then gazed at Brooke, confused.

“Talk to me. You’re still worried about tomorrow, aren’t you?” Brooke murmured quietly, trying not to draw attention to them. Jan was chatting happily with Scarlet and Yvie was hugging Jaida goodbye, so they were safe for now.

Vanessa’s face was worried. “I just don’t like the uncertainty. I wouldn’t be as worried if it didn’t mean I could get split up from you and Jan. We’re so good together. I don’t wanna lose that.”

Brooke’s heart swelled a little in her chest. “Listen. Don’t make it common knowledge, but I might have had a hand in Bianca’s plan. She kind of hinted that I’d be repaid in some way. We’ll all stay, don’t worry. I trust her.”

Brooke almost breathed a sigh of relief as Vanessa’s shocked face grew into a bright, happy smile. “Fuck, Brooke Lynn, you serious?!”

“Yeah. I got one wish. I sold my soul to the devil. Sue me,” Brooke snorted sarcastically, making Vanessa laugh.

“Wait, what’d you have to do for her?” Vanessa whispered, her eyes excited.

“I had to sleep with her. It was horrendous. She eats pussy like I eat noodles. Slurp slurp slurp.”

Vanessa’s nose wrinkled up as she laughed uproariously, drawing the attention of the other girls to them to Brooke’s dismay. Vanessa looked beautiful when she laughed. Then again, she looked beautiful all the time. That was just a fact, of course.

“Hey, Brooke! You coming out with us or what? Silk and Akeria are joining, ” Yvie yelled over, smiling as she wrapped her arm around Scarlet’s slim waist. Brooke tried her best not to screw her face up- she had a hard time being polite to anyone from the opposition, even if they were only civil service comms officers.

“Nah, she’s being boring,” Vanessa teased, sticking her tongue out.

“Aw, come on, Brooke! You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take, ‘specially tequila ones,” Scarlet piped up, giggling and throwing her other arm around Yvie. Brooke smiled at the affectionate couple.

“Yeah, well, like Vanessa said, I’m being boring tonight. You and Yvie take care of those two liver transplants waiting to happen, okay? I can’t quite believe I’m saying it but you need to be the responsible ones.”  

As Scarlet laughed, Yvie and Jan said their goodbyes to Brooke. Vanessa was still hovering at her desk, a small smile on her face as she bent down and hugged Brooke without warning.

“You’re the best member of this whole department, an’ the best damn work friend I could want,” she whispered, her words lighting up Brooke’s heart. Pulling back, she gave a quick glance to the girls who were waiting on the lift to arrive. “I owe you one, bitch. Have a good night. Eat dinner and sleep well, ‘kay?”

Brooke gazed fondly at Vanessa, her tiny frame retreating into the lift. Vanessa cared about her. She cared about everyone. It was part of the reasons why Brooke liked her so much.

In the most platonic way possible, obviously.

***    

Arriving at work the next day, it was clear that Bianca’s plan had worked. Thanks to a few emails to the big papers, Darienne’s false expenses claims were plastered over all the front pages, giving a pretty damning verdict.

“She’s good at leaking, isn’t she? Bianca, I mean,” Nina pondered casually from her desk, causing Brooke to look up from The Times.

“She’s brilliant. She’s like an 85 year old woman that never did pelvic floor exercises,” Scarlet muttered, ignoring the ringing phone.

“Nothing in The Independent about it though, I’ll give you that, Adore. Laila McQueen must’ve been one satisfied customer,” Jan laughed, holding up the front page which was jarringly dissonant with the other headlines, instead focussing on something to do with the polar icecaps melting.

“I’m good! I keep telling you all and you never listen,” Adore winked cheekily, as the phone continued to ring.

“Ain’t someone gonna answer that?!” Vanessa snapped, frustrated. Jaida reached for the receiver hesitantly, looking at Nina to gauge her reaction. Fixing her eagle eyes on her in disapproval, Jaida drew her hand back as if the phone was a hot stove.

“I’ve told them all we’re in a no comment situation,” Nina turned to Vanessa, shrugging. “There’s nothing else we need to say. If those bastards don’t get the meaning of that then quite frankly they shouldn’t be in journalism.”

Brooke stayed quiet throughout the whole exchange. She was worried, fretting about what Darienne would say when she arrived. She knew full well she was going to get the blame, hell, she was to blame. As much as Brooke could pretend to be completely ruthless, the guilt was beginning to seep in. At this point everyone in the department knew it was Brooke who had a hand in fixing the expenses forms and although everyone was being perfectly normal and friendly towards her, she was concerned about what they really thought and what they’d say when she left the room.

She hadn’t even seen Jan come and stand next to her.

“You’re awful quiet today, sweetie,” she drawled, leaning against a set of shelves that contained about twenty thousand government files. “Everything alright?”

Brooke nodded silently, brushing her fringe out of her face. That didn’t appear to satisfy Jan.

“Look, nobody thinks any less of you for what you did. It’s politics, it’s not kid’s TV. Sacrifices have to be made, people have to be disposed of. You did the department a favour, to be honest,” she continued, as if she could read Brooke’s mind. Brooke couldn’t help but smile. Jan had a certain telepathic quality, and often she could begin cheering you up before you even knew what reasons you had to be sad. She was a total ray of sunshine, and her happy-go-lucky personality was welcome in the department today.

“Thanks, girl,” Brooke sighed, stretching out in her chair and giving Jan a tight smile. “That means a lot. You’re a blessing to this department. I mean, God knows the mood in here today’s about as flat as…well. Maybe it’s my turn to not be good at one-liners today.”

Jan laughed softly, leaning back a little more against the files. “I try my best. But hey, I should thank you! Once Darienne goes, I might see about standing as an MP in the next by-election.”

Brooke raised her eyebrows a little. She had no idea that Jan had even had ambitions outside of performing at every available karaoke bar London had to offer. “Really?!”

“Yeah, I’ve kind of been thinking about it for a while.”

Brooke was secretly excited about the prospect of working with just Vanessa. Purely because things would be easier to organise between just two people, and things would just run more smoothly. It wasn’t because she had a crush on her or anything, that would be a ridiculous accusation. Brooke was a professional. There was no scope for things like that in this game.

“Well, I’m sure you’d be amazing. The public would love you,” she smiled at her friend sincerely. Flattered, Jan relaxed completely against the shelves, a giant file careering from the top shelf onto the ground.

“I’ll get it,” Brooke reassured Jan, whose face was apologetic.

“Right, I’m goin’ to fetch Darienne,” Vanessa announced, making her way to the lifts a little nervously. “Smiles an’ happiness when she arrives please, people, try not to make the office feel too much like a wake.”

Yvie tipped her head back over the back of her chair, looking at Vanessa upside-down. “Are we not supposed to be mourning the bitch’s career?”

With a long-suffering shake of her head, Vanessa disappeared into the lift.

Five minutes later, Brooke was picking up the dropped file from behind the shelf when two sets of footsteps thundered through the office and a voice cut through the click-clack, tapping keyboards and ringing phones.

“MEETING ROOM, NOW!”

Slowly, Brooke crept towards Darienne’s office, following a running Nina and Jan. Darienne was standing behind the desk, her face a thunderstorm. As soon as Brooke skulked in she narrowed her eyes.

“Can someone, maybe Brooke Lynn, tell me why my face is all over the papers like a disgraced fucking gym teacher?!” she barked, her voice reverberating off the glass door of her office.

“Okay, there must have been some form of mix-up with the forms because yours was completely clean when I submitted it,” Brooke immediately fired back. She’d had a bit of time to come up with her defence and, even though it was completely feeble, it was better than silence.

“That’s got to be the most shit excuse I’ve ever heard. How does something like that happen?!” Darienne yelled back. Suddenly, everyone’s eyes shifted to the doorframe of the office, where Bianca had arrived.

“Hey, big spender,” she greeted the Minister, the joke sitting out of place with the purpose of her arrival.

“Bianca, I didn’t claim for those things. I don’t know what’s going on, I gave my forms to Brooke to do, we need to tell the press that these claims are fake!” Darienne gibbered, panicking like Bianca was holding her hostage.

“Yeah, what are we running with, Bianca? We’ve been in a no comment situation all morning,” Jan asked.

“The phone’s been ringing off the hook. I’ve been ignoring it but we’ve got to give them something soon enough,” Nina shrugged, nodding in agreement. Bianca let out a harsh exhale, rubbing her neck tersely.

“Oh, Jesus Christ, could you all just get off my back for a hot second?! You’re like a pack of fucking fleas. Are you not supposed to be a team of advisors? Are you not supposed to be head of communications?!” Bianca cried, shooting Nina an icy glare. Completely unfazed, Nina clicked her pen.

“Yes, but I’m completely unable to do anything if I don’t know what we’re communicating!”

Bianca rolled her huge eyes up to the heavens, seemingly trying to cool her boiling blood. As Brooke scanned her eyes over the rest of the room, she caught Vanessa looking straight at her, her eyes a little fearful. Brooke shot her the most reassuring smile she could manage and almost gave an audible sigh of relief when Vanessa seemed to relax.

“So, you want to go out to the media and tell them that, hey! It’s not so bad, because the truth is that I’m too lazy to fill out my own fucking expenses forms, so I just gave them to one of my aides to fill out! I’m not actually keeping that close an eye on how much I’m claiming back! Do you realise how that’s going to look?” Bianca scowled, Darienne sighing and slumping into her chair.

“So what do we do?!” she asked, her voice somewhere between a whine and a plea. Brooke began to feel a bit less guilty as she rolled her eyes. She wished Darienne had a bit more backbone, a bit more of a spine. It would endear her to her a lot more. That sort of big-eyed deer act was only cute when Vanessa did it.

There was a momentary silence in which Nina clicked her pen repeatedly, looking from Darienne to Bianca, then back to Darienne.

“You have two options,” Bianca finally said, her voice much quieter than before. Turning to the other girls, she addressed them gravely. “Could you ladies give us a moment.”

Not a question, a demand. One by one, Brooke, Vanessa, Jan and Nina all filed out and wordlessly closed the door. After a heartbeat of silence, Nina sprinted over to the comms team.

“Is it happening?!” Scarlet asked, wide-eyes and open mouthed, like a child at Christmas.

“It’s happening now! It’s happening now. Two bullets in the back of the head, bang, bang!” Nina replied excitedly, her voice ringing through the offices as she mimed a brutal murder.

“Nina!” Vanessa hissed, motioning to the glass-fronted office where Bianca and Darienne were standing motionless, looking at Nina impassively. Horrified, she abruptly sat down in her seat.

“I can’t believe it’s actually going on right now. Fuck. She’s gonna hate me, ain’t she?” Vanessa worried, biting her nails. Jan slapped her hand away from her mouth.

“Stop that!” she reprimanded, Vanessa looking to the floor sheepishly. “She won’t hate you, and if she does, well, that’s politics. She’s a grown adult, she can handle it. She knew the profession she was entering into was ruthless.”

“Nobody could hate you,” Brooke added, brushing Vanessa’s cheek with her finger very slightly. “You’re like a fucking carebear. It’s impossible.”  

A pink blush crept over Vanessa’s face. “You two are too sweet to me, get outta here. Hey, have we heard about a replacement?”

Brooke sighed. “I don’t know if she’s accepted it or not yet, but Bianca told me Jackie Cox is in the running.”

Jan and Vanessa’s faces both screwed up. “Who the hell is that?”

“I went to Uni with her. I didn’t even know she was in the game until Bianca told me she’d scouted her out. I still think Jiggly would be better.”

“You mean Bianca Castro?” Jan raised one eyebrow.

“Fuck, yes. Now she’s got me doing it,” Brooke sighed, further confusing the two girls.

Suddenly, there was a creak from the office door. Darienne emerged, her posture perfect and her head held high as she walked towards the three girls. Her eyes were cold, so much so that Brooke found herself shivering a little.

“Right, well. Thank you, ladies, for your unwavering support. I wish you all very long and successful careers,” she said cooly, then her face darkened. “And I hope you all get heart failure.”

“Aw Darienne, c’mon!” Vanessa pleaded as the ex-Minister marched towards the lift, a storm cloud of rage. As Darienne stepped into the lift, Yvie began whistling Another One Bites The Dust under her breath and Scarlet started laughing so hard Brooke momentarily thought she was suffocating.

Brooke started laughing too. She had to, she couldn’t help it. This pathetic, et tu, Brute? act was wearing. Jan was right, these were the rules of the damn game. People in the department had come and gone as if Dosac was a massive revolving door and Darienne had never shed a tear for them. Brooke hated the hypocrisy that was so freely batted about in politics. Mourning a departure with a simple “it’s a shame, but they had to go” and then acting like the damn Godfather when your own time came. There was no dignity in it, no class.

“Ding dong, the useless fucking bitch is dead,” Bianca deadpanned, Vanessa relaxing and giggling a little at the slightly less high-intensity Bianca.

“What happens now, then?” Brooke asked her. “Did Jackie take the job?”

“Like a trout on a hook. Barely even had to sell it to the kid. Right, here’s the line!” Bianca suddenly yelled, loud enough that Darienne could probably hear it from the ground floor. “Darienne will be giving a statement outside Number 10 in fifteen minutes. After that, all I want to hear is praise. Praise, praise, praise, Psalm one hundred and fucking one. At 12pm, you guys will have a new Minister. Nina, it’s your job to break her in. Break her fucking spine if necessary.”

Nina nodded apprehensively, unsure of how serious Bianca was.

“I’ll see you all again at half 12. Oh, and Destiny’s Child?” Bianca said, turning suddenly to address Brooke, Vanessa and Jan as she hit the button of the lift. “It won’t be necessary to clear your desks if you don’t plan on leaving.”

As Bianca left Vanessa turned excitedly to Brooke and Jan, grinning madly as she gave them a huge hug, happy at being allowed to stay.

Brooke decided she’d probably have quite literally stabbed Darienne in the back in order to have that smile flashed at her again.

***

“Ladies, I’d like to introduce your new Minister for the Department of Social Affairs and Citizenship…Jackie Cox!”

Everyone started clapping, but in equal measures scrutinising the tall girl in front of them, standing beside Nina nervously and waving hello. She hadn’t changed all that much since Brooke had last seen her. Her hair was still long, swept back into a neat pearl headband so that her dark waves fell down her back instead of over her shoulders. Her makeup was simple as it always had been: a few swipes of mascara, a dark brown eye pencil to bring out her equally dark eyes, a dusky rose shade on her lips. She was in a matching red suit jacket and tailored skirt, and had red heels on to match. Brooke’s feet were beginning to get sore in her own heels, tired from standing in line with Vanessa and Jan waiting to welcome Jackie. She didn’t have to wait much longer though as Jackie was already shaking Vanessa’s hand, smiling and gushing about how she was so honoured to take up the position and how she was so looking forward to working with her. Brooke stared at her, a little irritated with the dramatics. Jackie then moved on to Jan who was standing in the middle of the line. Brooke watched as they both looked at each other, Jan sort of open-mouthed and Jackie seemingly finding it hard to formulate words.

“You must be Janette. It’s so good to meet you,” she finally said as she shyly held out her hand. Jan took it, shaking it gently.

“It’s good to meet you too. And, uh, Jan’s fine. My friends call me Jan. Not that you’re my friend, of course, you’re my boss. But uh. You can still call me that,” Jan mumbled, her voice quiet and a little nervous and her eyes not once tearing away from Jackie’s.

“Right! Sure. I, um. I hope you’re staying on?” Jackie asked, her voice a little hopeful as she gave Jan a smile, her teeth white and dazzling.

“Absolutely. I can’t wait to start working with you! It’ll be, uh. Jan-tastic!” Jan raised her eyebrows a little as she made her joke, Jackie giving a polite laugh of her own. Brooke’s brow furrowed in confusion, the corners of her mouth turning down slightly. What the fuck was this?

“Well, I’m really excited to get started. It was so good meeting you, Jan,” Jackie smiled, giving Jan one last look as she finally tore her eyes away and faced Brooke. Her face immediately changed, taking on an awkward sort of expression as it was clear she had no idea what to say to Brooke. “Brooke Lynn! Hi! What a nice surprise! Gosh, it’s been a while!”

“Yeah, like, eight years. You look good,” Brooke replied curtly, not really instantly warming to Jackie despite her efforts.

“It’ll be nice working together. Just like at uni! I didn’t really believe it when Bianca said you were here!”

“Yeah, well. I’m just climbing the ladder. Where have you been these past few years, anyway?”    

“Just the stock exchange. It was always the economic side of our degree I was more interested in, but when Bianca phoned me I thought this was a pretty unmissable opportunity!” Jackie beamed at an unimpressed Brooke. Receiving no reply, she stepped back a little awkwardly. “Anyway, it’s nice that you’re here. I’d better start my briefing, so I’ll speak with you later?”

Brooke nodded wordlessly as Jackie click-clacked away. Say ‘nice’ again, bitch, I dare you.

Vanessa tilted her head as she watched Jackie retreat, her glossy hair swaying.

“Well, I like her. I think she’s gonna be good,” she concluded, clasping her hands together. Brooke narrowed her eyes at Jan, whose gaze was still fixed on Jackie.

“Jan-tastic? What the hell was that?”

Jan gave her a funny look. “What?! You know I love a pun.”

“Not just that. What about your MP thing? You’re seriously going to pass that opportunity up?”

Jan leant back against the glass door of Darienne’s old office, gazing dreamily at nothing in particular. “Um…yeah. Yeah, I think I’ll stay on. I’m still young, I’ve got time for the whole MP endeavour in a few years’ time. No, I think I’ll stick around here for a bit longer. Things might get interesting.”

Still confused at Jan’s sudden change of heart, Brooke shook her head and shrugged. In her opinion Jan was out of her mind, but if that was her decision then that was that. As Vanessa and Jan chatted excitedly Brooke made her way back to her desk, her head kind of in a daze. A lot was happening and she didn’t really know what the next few months were going to be like. An economist in a political position wasn’t new, but she was still reserved about welcoming Jackie with open arms. Still, whatever would happen she was glad that she had Vanessa and Jan to stumble through it all with.

God, she was glad Vanessa was staying.

Looking over to the Comms team she saw that Yvie’s computer was displaying the BBC website, where a live stream of Darienne’s resignation speech was playing. Yvie was sat in her chair, Jaida crouching at her right and Scarlet at her left, Adore peering over Scarlet’s shoulder as Darienne set down her sheets of paper and walked away from the lectern set up outside Downing Street. Yvie threw her hands in the air as if she was praising God.

“The old Minister is dead,” she cried dramatically. “Long live the Minister!”

[writeanapocalae]

Inktober: Abandoned

Gavin slammed the door to his shitty little apartment, kicking off his shoes and all but throwing them across the hall. Dude chirped at him with annoyance before running down the hall. He’d figured out when Gavin was in a mood by now and knew to go to bed. He’d end up there eventually and then Dude would sit on his face and he wouldn’t be able to cry or hyperventilate without drowning in fat orange cat.

He didn’t want comfort. He didn’t want care. He wanted to punch and slam into things and hurt. It was so strong, so visceral. He dug his fingers into his arms, but he couldn’t feel the press because of his jacket. He wanted to feel it. The pain was in his head, not in his body. He wanted to expose it.

He screamed, not caring who heard him, loving and hating the way that his throat choked around his visciousness. He was a monster. It made sense for him to be alone. It made sense for them all to want him to stay away.

It was an overreaction, he knew that. He’d had worse, he’d been left behind before. He thought that he was doing better though, that people were starting to like him. It wasn’t even a big deal. So he wasn’t invited to a party that almost all of their coworkers were invited to, who cares? They probably just didn’t want his ugly mug around to shit all over everything. That thought didn’t even make sense to him but he knew he was no good at parties, that he was too much a pessimist.

He hadn’t been invited to a party in years. He still showed up sometimes, but the fact that this was Tina’s birthday of all things and he thought that she was his best friend  made him hold back. He wasn’t going to crash it. If she didn’t want him there, there had to be a reason.

He thought he was doing better. He thought that people were starting to like him.

He was a fool. How dare he think that he could change people’s opinions of him? So what, he had a big android for a partner and he wasn’t shitty to him and he smiled more and he brought in chips every once in a while, that didn’t make him a good person. It wasn’t enough. Just thinking about it made him feel pathetic, like he was a dog begging for table scraps of affection.

He lit a cigarette, finding the half empty box in one of the coats hanging by the door. Another thing he’d failed at. He was a quitter, even at quitting. He lit it easily, practiced, and inhaled the smoke deeply, feeling the nicotine relax his tension, make the withdrawals fade for the moment.

There was a knock on his door. He spun on his sock, a little bit too far because of the hardwood, and glared at it. Someone thought he was worthwhile or, at least, they thought it would be fun to see him in his misery. He straightened up, hoping that whoever it was could see him glaring through the wood. It wasn’t someone coming to check in on him, to give him a late invitation. It was a neighbor, annoyed by his noise. It had to be.

The knock landed again, each beat measured, the same pattern and weight behind the fist.

“What do you want?” he barked. Nothing. They wanted nothing. They wanted him to be nothing so that they could go back to their lives.

“It was brought to my attention that you may require my services,” came the voice on the other side, loud enough that he could hear it clearly but no mare. He knew that voice, that calm demeanor that would never be shaken, that emotionless cadence, that deep tone that kept him up some nights. The nondeviated androids were the only ones from the bullpen not invited. Alongside him.

He was actually somewhat surprised that Nines hadn’t been invited, he got along with Tina better than many.

“I don’t ‘require your services’ or whatever the phck you’re going on about!” Gavin practically shouted. “Why don’t you just go, uh, get, phcked or something!” He wanted something more clever than that, something that was more personal. What he gave was amateur.

“I have no interest in getting phcked,” Nines stated in that cold tone though there was a beat of silence that made it sound like there was more that he wanted to say on the subject. “Officer Chen wanted me to check in on you.”

He sputtered at that, grimaced. He didn’t know when Nines had learned how to lie but he didn’t like it. Tina wouldn’t have told him to do that and Nines was pretty good at ignoring orders that he didn’t like so there had to be something else.

Gavin let himself sag against the door, the pressure flat and somewhat painful against his back. His jacket may have protected him from his fingers but it wasn’t padded enough to make a door comfortable. “Leave me alone.” He rubbed at his forehead with his hand, careful not to stab himself in the eye with his cigarette.

“No,” Nines said.

Gavin stilled, turning to look at the door again. Nines said no to him? Of all people, he said no to his partner. Gavin had never heard him say no before. He always followed orders, though sometimes he would decide that it was a low priority and would put off an order as long as he could. That was how he’d explained how he wasn’t killing every deviant around him. He still had his mission, but he was putting every other mission at a higher priority. He would get around to it when he had nothing else to do.

“I don’t need you!” Gavin slammed his heel into the door and regretted it immediately. “I don’t need anybody.”

Then he fell.

The door was opened quickly and he had no way of catching himself before gravity was having its way with him. He called out with surprise, dropping his cigarette and throwing out and arm to catch himself, but Nines was there, catching him easily with those big strong arms of his. Gavin had to look up at him, upside down, and he was just so - ugh, Gavin didn’t want to think about it. Still, the thought that the bag of bolts had caught him so easily did things to his insides and he was certain that he’d have trouble sleeping again.

Nines pushed him back into a standing position and entered his apartment as if he’d been invited, walking easily over to the cigarette on the hard wood, pushing his heel on it, and twisting to snuff it out. “You were doing so well, Gavin. This is disappointing.”

That stung. Gavin closed the door, wanting to bolt through it. He didn’t want Nines there. He didn’t want to be a disappointment. He was disappointing everyone these days. And he was trying too, so so hard.

“Don’t say that,” he whispered, leaning against the door, this time with his head against the wood. He didn’t want Nines seeing his expression. He didn’t want Nines to see that he was hurting.

“Giving up on the things that you want will only disappoint you,” Nines continued. “No one told you to stop smoking, you decided that on your own. Smoking again will exacerbate these other emotions that you’re feeling.”

“Why do you even care?” Gavin asked the door. “Because Tina told you to? Why would she even care? She doesn’t even want me around.”

A hand on the back of his head. Cold and solid and there, present. It made Gavin want to be sick. It didn’t but he wanted to pull away, be disgusted, because he was being touched by a machine, some parody of human emotions.

“I must apologize, it is due to my confessing to her that you were not invited. She does think of you as a friend and invited everyone else so that you would be guaranteed available for me to speak to you.”

Gavin glanced back at him. His LED was yellow and processing, thinking of the best thing to say, trying to understand Gavin’s reactions.

“What’s so important, huh? I thought that I just wasn’t wanted. That I was being abandoned by my friends, again!” he could feel the anger growing in him again, this time directed at Nines instead of himself. “You could have said whatever bullshit you wanted to at any time! Why’d you have to go tell Tina first? You don’t trust me? We’re supposed to be partners!”

Nines grabbed him by the edged of his hoody pulling him up and off of the floor, most of his weight against the door. He started to panic at the effortlessness that Nines had moved him. It was another testament of how inhuman Nines was.

Nines mouth was cold and too hard and there was no give to his lips, no finesse. It was the kind of kiss that came from a machine who had only watched others kiss and never tried to himself. And it was being pressed to Gavin’s mouth, making his toes curl as his hands came up to run through Nines’ hair. Gavin was following but he was leading as well, showing Nines how to kiss better, opening his mouth and biting at his lips and licking into him. He was heady with it, drunk, not thinking, and when he did think his hands went to Nines’ chest shoving.

“Woah! Woah woah what the phck are you doing?”

The LED was flashing and spinning, processing while Nines panicked. Red meant panicking, so did flashing, at least it did in deviants. Gavin didn’t know what it meant in a nonfeeling android.

“I must apologize, I must have incorrectly analyzed your desires.” Nines stated, eyes downcast, hand coming up to touch his lips and then to his LED, as if to hide it.

“You’re not a deviant! What are you doing kissing me?” Gavin shook his head, shook all of him. This was so sudden, he felt desired, wanted, and he knew that wasn’t right, that couldn’t be true.

Nines went stiff, LED stilling, half yellow half red. “I am a deviant.”

“No you’re not!” Gavin argued, “You’re stiff and weird and robotic! You can’t consent to things like kissing and romance and shit! You just follow orders!”

The LED started spinning again, pure yellow. “I was informed that you were a detective. I am concerned with your lack of detecting skills. I deviated thirty four days ago.”

Gavin’s mind raced. He didn’t want to do the math, not right then, but there was only one incident he could think of that could potentially deviate an android. They were on a case, and they’d gotten separated in chasing a subject. The building they were rushing through had been abandoned and in such disrepair that Gavin had fallen through the floor at some point, hitting his head hard enough to be knocked out. When he’d woken up Nines was so out of commission that he’d needed repairs. It had been a week until he’d seen Nines again. He hadn’t noticed any difference.

“You don’t act like a deviant,” he argued.

“I am not comfortable with deviancy. I did not want to worry any of our coworkers, or you, with my emotions.”

Gavin went closer to him, not feeling his steps. He ran his hand up the back of Nines’ neck, up to his hair again. The other one went to his jaw and he could feel Nines lean into it, even as he closed his eyes slowly. The LED switched to blue, his own hand finally coming down to rest on Gavin’s shoulder.

“So, you’re really feeling this shit? For some ugly bastard like me?”

“You’re not ugly,” Nines corrected. Gavin chuckled at how he didn’t correct the bastard part.

This time Gavin kissed Nines, getting up on tip toes to reach. It was smaller, more endearing, as Nines followed his instruction, learning quickly.

“You’re not just going to leave me, are you?” Gavin breathed against him. He could feel Nines’ arm snake around his waist, hold him close so that both of their fronts were tightly pressed together. He wished that he didn’t sound so emotional.

“As long as you want me,” Nines pressed a kiss to the side of Gavin’s mouth, “I’ll be yours. And not just because I am an android.”

At that Gavin smiled. He didn’t trust it, but for the moment the words were enough.

[vivxwrites]

What’s Wrong With Your Face?

*not my gif*

Word Count: 1899

Summary: Carol ends up at the hospital where you work after she gets into a fight. 

Pairing: Carol Danvers x Reader

A/N: This fic was suggested to me in a little post I sent out like a week ago by the lovely @aesthetiff. I hope you like it, it was a lot of fun to write. It’s longer than expected but I like it! <3 :)

“Auntie Carol what’s wrong with your face?” Monica stood in front of the door with her brow scrunched up adorably. 

“Nothing I can’t handle Lieutenant Trouble. I just need to go see your mom real quick.” Carol stepped past Monica and stumbled into her best friend’s house. The gash on her eyebrow hurt like a bitch but she pushed the pain away. She found Maria in the kitchen wiping down the counter and called out to her, “Hey Maria, do you think you could fix up my face for me.”

“Well well well Danvers, I knew the day would come when you realized that your looks are inferior to mine.” Maria bantered before turning to face Carol. She gasped and recoiled in shock at the mess that was Carol’s face. Her cheek was bruised and her eye was starting to swell shut. She had minor cuts scattered across her face but the main concern was her eyebrow. The entire eyebrow was split in two by the huge gash. Blood trickled down Carol’s face from the wound and her hair was matted against her face due to the mix of fluids on her face. “Are you insane? What you need is a hospital.” Maria spoke with wide eyes as she stared at Carol’s face in disgust.

“No, there’s no need for that. This is nothing a few band-aids can’t fix. If you could just clean it for me that would be-” Carol was cut off by Maria latching onto her arm and dragging her back outside. She tried to pull away but Maria’s grip was strong on her arm.

“You’re crazy woman. I’m taking you whether you like it or not. Monica grab my keys for me, we’re taking your crazy aunt to the hospital.” Maria threw open the passenger door and shoved Carol into the seat despite her adamant protests. “Buckle up. You’re telling me what happened on the way.” Carol rolled her eyes at her best friend’s mama bear attitude but buckled up anyway. Monica hopped into the backseat and Maria started the car and drove to the hospital.

Carol grumbled to herself under her breath but upon receiving a pointed glare from Maria promptly shut up. She sighed and began to tell what had happened. “I was walking along and minding my own business when I saw two men harassing and cat-calling a woman and I couldn’t just stand by and watch. She was completely defenseless so I approached the group and the men didn’t like that very much. I distracted them and she got away but once they realized that they were very angry.” 

Maria shook her head. Of course Carol would try and be a hero. “I can see how angry they were. Did you at least win?” As bad as Carol looked, Maria knew her friend well enough to know that Carol was a very proud, stubborn woman. Even if she did have the shit beat out of her she’d continue fighting until her last breath.

Carol gave Maria a cocky grin. “You know it. Give me some Monica.” Carol held her hand out for a high five and Monica returned it with a smack from her own hand and a giggle. Maria shook her head but found herself chuckling at Carol’s antics. She parked her car and they all headed into the hospital. Once Carol was checked in with the receptionist they were led to a room and were told to wait for the doctor. Maria and Carol chatted idly while Monica explored the room. She was busy putting on a pair of rubber gloves when a knock sounded at the door. She ran over to Maria and hid her hands behind her back. 

Today was a slow day at work for you and your coworkers. You were busying yourself with paperwork, glad for no emergencies when you got a page from the secretary requesting you to administer stitches on a patient. You glanced at it, happy for a distraction and headed toward the medical supply closet to grab whatever materials you might need. You then made your way to the room where the pager said the patient was being held in. You knocked politely at the door and then entered upon hearing a soft “come on in.” 

You entered the room with a kind smile and pulled your medical cart in. “Hi everyone, I’m Doctor (Y/L/N).” You paused as you took in the occupants of the room. There were two women sitting close together on the medical bed and a young girl standing with her hands behind her back. You caught a quick glimpse of the blue medical gloves on her hands and smiled to yourself. Almost every kid tried a pair of gloves on when they accompanied their parent. You turned to the young girl, “Are you the one needing stitches today?” Of course you were only teasing, you had seen the jagged gash on the blonde woman’s eyebrow, but the way the child’s eyes widened in fear was priceless. 

“No ma’am, that would be Auntie Carol today.” Monica pointed at Carol but quickly put her hand down when she remembered the gloves she was wearing. You pretended not to notice again. “She beat up two men all by herself.” Carol felt herself blush at Monica’s statement. As soon as you had walked in the door she felt her chest tighten. You were gorgeous, even in the hospital issued medical scrubs that you were wearing. Carol’s heart skipped a beat or two and she was glad her heart-rate wasn’t being monitored. She straightened in her seat a little and smoothed out her shirt. It took practically all of her willpower not to flat out gape at you like some sort of fish.

You turned to the woman, Carol, and really looked at her this time. She was beautiful even with her face all beat up. Her chocolate eyes were bright and her natural blonde hair framed her face perfectly. You felt butterflies in your stomach and did your best to push them away. God, you thought, what the hell am I going to do while I’m stitching her face? You ignored your inner monologue and prayed that you could stay professional. 

Monica saw the looks you and Carol were sending to each other all while being completely oblivious of the other. She smirked to herself and came up with an idea. “Monica, why don’t we go find something to eat. By the time we come back Auntie Carol should be back to normal.” She didn’t miss the wide eyes Carol sent to her and sent her a discreet thumbs up in response. Carol flipped her off and she held in her laugh.

After she and Monica left the room you busied yourself with actually doing your job and not gawking at a pretty woman. While you were setting yourself up Carol was trying not to panic. She was all alone with you and you were about to be touching her face. Peachy, just peachy. 

“Ok, Carol was it? I’m going to start off with the minor cuts, just clean them out and bandage them for you. After that I’ll stitch up that eyebrow gash and you can be on your merry way. You were injured in a fight, correct?” At Carol’s nod you continued, “How are your knuckles looking?” Carol presented her knuckles to you and you looked them over. “They’re slightly bruised but you’re lucky they didn’t split. They should be fine, you can apply ice to minimize bruising.” 

Upon hearing your medical talk Carol’s heart felt as if it were fluttering all around her ribcage. You sounded so hot, assessing all of her injuries. God what she wouldn’t give to- Carol groaned at herself internally. You were her doctor for god’s sake, she should not be thinking like that. 

You had just finished applying a water based solution to a Q-Tip when you turned to Carol. She had a light flush on her cheeks and you shook off the confusion you felt at seeing it. “This might sting a little.” You reached up to her face and gently swiped the Q-Tip over the minor cuts. When she flinched you couldn’t stop the apology that fell from your lips. You then applied small bandages to the slightly bigger ones. “Ok, time for the hard part. Have you ever had stitches before?”

Carol was so busy internally freaking out at your closeness to her face that she almost missed your question entirely. “Umm, no? Not that I can remember at least.” Carol felt herself blush deeper this time. 

“Alright, I’ll go easy on you this time.” You panicked as that fell from your mouth. What the hell is wrong with you, throwing out a flirty line like that. You were so busy screaming at yourself inside your head that you missed Carol’s entire face and neck going completely beet red. 

An “ok” was all that Carol could come up with to squeak out in reply. Was that meant to be flirty or just like platonic teasing or something? She didn’t want to become too hopeful at your statement but that sounded kind of flirty.

You decided to just keep your mouth shut as you worked on stitching Carol’s face back up. For her first time she didn’t flinch very much and she wasn’t freaking out at having a needle so close to her eyes either. You were able to finish in a good amount of time and began packing up your supplies, knowing that you probably wouldn’t see this woman, Carol, ever again. “You’re as good as new. You’ll need to come back in about two weeks to get those stitches removed but other than that you’re good to go.” You gave her one last smile and turned to leave the room, a little sad to part from Carol.

“Uh, Doctor (Y/L/N)?” Carol wanted to facepalm at not knowing your name. She had decided to bite the bullet and just ask for your number because she may never see you again anyway.

You turned around to face Carol, wondering what she might need. She rushed out and said something that you couldn’t understand. “Sorry, what was that?” You tilted your head to the side to try and make sense of what she said. 

Carol sighed and willed herself to slow down, “I was wondering if maybe, uh if maybe I could have your phone number, maybe?” She was trying but failing to keep her voice from wavering as she asked you. She held her breath as she awaited your response.

You were shocked, to put it lightly. You technically weren’t supposed to give your number to a patient but how could you pass on this opportunity? “Yeah, yes you can. Just don’t tell any of the other staff. I think I’d really enjoy seeing you again, under different circumstances, of course. Oh and I’m (Y/N), by the way.”

“Cool, I would like that as well.” Carol beamed at you and you beamed back. You stood on your tiptoes and gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek. She blushed heavily and you smirked. After you exited the room she gave herself a fist bump and celebrated. She winced in pain a little but continued her quiet celebration, glad to have something good come from something bad.

A/N: Hey, I hope you liked it. I know next to nothing about medical stuff besides stuff I’ve learned through the twenty episodes of Grey’s Anatomy that I’ve watched so feel free to insult me in the comments. Feel free to check out my other stuff as well. Thanks. Viv :)

Part 2

[chimchimsauce]

Hit or Miss (2)

In a desperate attempt to rebuke the advances of her overly energetic coworker, YN asks her quiet roommate Jungkook to pretend to be her boyfriend until Taehyung lays off. But YN comes to realize that there’s more to the quiet man than she could have ever imagined.

I guess they never miss, huh?

Tag List: @jeonkookie-oppita @cadet-lea-05 @wallflowerwildchildme @goodgirlfaithx @ccocorosie @vincent-stargogh @the-argus-eyed @phoe3367 @softmultistan @joyful-jimin @kittylovsu  @saltyyjin @sincemalik @intersemiotica @jooniescupcakes @jjkookssi @bookoffracturedescapes @betysotelo18 @lowkey-kpopstan @bangtansa @chocoflagcutii @saltydeema @rando-the-potato @feedseokjin @rando-the-potato @moonlight-joon @kpopfromtheblock @sunnysideupsmile

If you want to be added to the tag list, click here! Make sure you add your profile link, not just your username! Thank you!

If you like this series and would like to support me, click here!

Chapter One

Chapter Two - Take My Hands Now

Jungkook sleeps through the rest of the day, forcing YN to go to work on Tuesday without getting her story straight with him. She's half afraid that Jungkook's texted her coworker in the middle of the night and told him to clown her, but thankfully that doesn't seem to be the case. When Taehyung shows up for his shift partway through hers, YN is greeted with a preppy smile and his usual greetings minus the overly affectionate pet names. He doesn't try to speak much to her at all, never purposefully seeking her out or lurking near the shelves she has to restock. It's so peaceful that YN actually enjoys her shift, finding herself humming along quietly to songs she's heard on the radio as she files books according to the Dewey decimal system.

She's almost sad when her shift is over and she has to head to class. By the time her two-hour lecture is over, she's convinced her stomach is seconds away from consuming her liver, the anxiety caused by the fake boyfriend situation having prevented her from eating anything since her lunch break yesterday.

Almost as if he knew what she was thinking, YN receives a text from Jungkook as she leaves her classroom.

Hey, wanna grab lunch? We need to talk about this boyfriend thing

Above this text, there are only a couple more messages, most of them where YN had asked Jungkook to pick up toilet paper or groceries.

Yeah, sounds good. I just got out of class, where do you wanna meet?

His reply is instantaneous.

Einstein Bagels?

I'll be there in ten.

The restaurant is relatively empty, as it's after the typical lunch hour rush. Besides Jungkook, there's only one other patron in the store, a petite girl with airpods in and an open notebook out in front of her. YN figures it's relatively safe to talk here. She makes her way to the table her roommate is sitting at, noticing how absolutely stunning he looks. YN's steps falter until she's standing still ten feet away from him.

How had she never noticed before?

Sunlight streams in through the open window he sits beside, casting shadows on his face. His eyes are closed as he taps a pencil on the table to the beat of the song he's listening to through a single earbud stuck in his right ear. His left leg is bent, toe of expensive looking, white Nike sneakers pressed flat against the dingy linoleum while his right is fully expended, incredibly well-fitting jeans emphasizing his legs beautifully. A plain white t-shirt is tucked into his pants and secured with a simple black belt.

He's chewing on his bottom lip slightly before his eyes flick open and he looks at her, startling her out of her daze. Ignoring the question in his eyes, YN takes her seat across from him, placing her bag down.

"I'll go order first then we can talk, okay?" she says, moving to stand back up.

"Don't worry about it, I already ordered,"

"How'd you know what I wanted?"

"Who do you think tosses the old sandwiches from this place?"

"Oh," YN says, awkwardly settling back in.

"So?"

"So . . .,"

A beat of silence passes.

"You don't have any plan, do you?"

"No, not really," YN says, slumping down and sighing, "I'm so sorry about this, I shouldn't have gotten you involved. Just tell Taehyung I was lying to him and spare yourself,"

"Nah," Jungkook says, "It's too late now, I'm already involved. Even if I were to say that you're lying, Tae'd give me hell for it. Since your little lie has pretty much ruined my chances of going out and getting a real girlfriend, I'll just have to settle for you instead,"

"Excuse you?" YN says, a quick flash of hurt sparking in her.

"I don't do things halfway. Since you told Taehyung I'm your boyfriend now, I'm your boyfriend now,"

"Seriously?" YN says, not believing the words coming from his mouth are real.

"Seriously,"

"But you don't know anything about me,"

Jungkook raises an eyebrow but before he can retaliate, their order is called, Jungkook standing up to retrieve it. YN would be lying if she said she didn't watch him as he left.

He has a nice butt.

"I don't know why you think that," Jungkook says, placing her food in front of it.

It the same thing she always orders from here. He even ordered her favorite soda.

"I mean I've lived with you for two semesters. I know quite a lot about you,"

"Like what?" YN says, skeptical.

They've spoken more in the last twenty-four hours than the last eight months.

"You always sing when you're in the shower. You're cold even when it's sixty-five degrees. Your socks don't match, you can't cook for anything, you play with your hair when you're nervous, you like books more than people, you -"

"Okay, okay!" YN says, watching the smug look on Jungkook's face grow wider, "I got it,"

Jungkook unwraps his sandwich and takes a large bite.

"Since you've practically ignored my entire existence and lied to my friend about dating me, I think you owe me this much at least,"

Feeling guilty and having no real other option, YN sighs.

"Okay. Okay, whatever you say,"

"Great, then let's go," Jungkook says, standing abruptly and shoving the rest of his sandwich down his throat.

"Go where? I haven't even started my food!" YN says, picking up her meal quickly as Jungkook takes her by the arm and drags her outside, "Jungkook! Where are we going?"

"You're going to meet my friends. Taehyung already opened his fat mouth and told everybody and they’ve been blowing up my phone all day pestering me,”

“But!” YN says, stumbling over her feet slightly, “What am I going to say to them?”

She’s panicking slightly. In between all of her shifts and study sessions, she’s forgotten how not to be totally awkward in social situations.

“Just be natural!” he says, briefly turning towards her and flashing her a gorgeous smile, “They’re gonna love you!”

“I sure do,” he finishes quietly, speaking under his breath.

In ten minutes or so, the couple arrives at a building YN’s never been to before, giant windows displaying various people in soundproof rooms, singing or playing some sort of instrument.

“This is the music building,” Jungkook explains, politely opening the door for her.

Cool air rushes forward and cools her slightly sweaty face. Running and heat are never a good combination.

“Do you play?” she asks, looking around the hallway in interest.

There are several framed photographs of what appear to be large scale performances, several hundred people watching various displays of talent. There’s a large trophy case with dozens or golden prizes and ribbons inside, even a couple of dried flowers shoved between the shelves.

“Oh my God, is that you?” YN asks, letting go of Jungkook’s hand and pressing her nose onto the glass.

The photograph in particular she’s looking at shows her new boyfriend sitting on a stool, microphone in hand while a few other people stand behind him, holding instruments.

“Yeah, that was my freshman year. My friends and I managed to win the state competition for best new band,”

“Oh wow, you must be good then,” YN says, backing away from the case and smiling at him.

Handsome and talented? Maybe this lie will turn out to be a good thing.

Jungkook chuckles.

“We’re alright, I guess,”

“Alright?” a new voice interjects, causing the duo to turn around, “We’re hella good, mate, don’t sell us short,”

At the girl’s obvious look of confusion, the new man smiles brightly.

“I’m Hoseok, one of this dumbass’ friends, but you can call me Hobi,”

Hobi stands tall with straight shoulders and a bright, heart-shaped smile revealing identical dimples in his cheeks. His hair is a bizarre shade of orange, but it suits his caramel skin tone quite well.

“Hey!” Jungkook protests.

“Nice to meet you, Hobi!” YN says, the man’s bright demeanor making her feel comfortable instantly.

“You too, doll. Hey, J.K., why didn’t you tell me she was so pretty?”

YN blushes, not expecting the compliment.

“Thank you,”

“Watch it,” Jungkook jokingly threatens, resuming his pace.

YN and Hoseok follow along, all three of them falling into a simple but funny conversation. By the time they arrive at a closed wooden door, YN’s nearly in stitches from how hard she’s laughing at one of Hobi’s stories. Tears are welling up in her eyes when the door swings open to reveal a short man with his hand on his hip, looking slightly annoyed.

“Took you long enough,” he says, glaring at Jungkook before breaking into a bright smile as he meets YN’s gaze.

“Hi! I’m Jimin! Kookie’s told us a lot about you,” he says, flicking his pitch black hair out of his eyes and revealing a pair of silver dangly earrings.

“He has?” she asks, slightly confused.

Jimin’s expression changes quickly.

“Well not a ton but enough for us to make him drag you here,” he pauses for a moment, “Come in, come in!”

Jimin steps to the side and the three of them enter, YN placing her food down on a table by the door. There’s one more man inside, one even shorter than Jimin, whose earbuds are shoved in his ears, blonde head bopping slowly as he scribbles on a large legal pad.

“Yoongi!” Jimin shouts, unsuccessfully attempting to grab his attention.

“Yoongi!” Hoseok shouts, tossing a pencil at him.

The man looks incredibly annoyed when he looks up but quickly loses that expression when he notices the stranger in their midsts. He pulls the earbuds out of his ears.

“You’re YN, right?”

His voice is considerably lower than she expected to come from such a little man.

“Ah, yeah. I’m Jungkook’s girlfriend,”

It feels bizarre to say that.

“I know. I’m glad you could make it,”

“Me too,” YN says, even though she’s not exactly sure what she’s made it to.

“Is Taehyung coming?” Jimin asks.

“Nah, he’s got work today,” Hobi says, grabbing an electric blue sitting on the stadium bleachers in the room.

YN frowns slightly. Usually, Taehyung doesn’t work this shift at the library.

“Does he have another job?” she asks, sitting down a bit away from Hobi and unwrapping her sandwich.

“Ah, yeah,” Yoongi says, standing and placing his legal pad down.

“You boys ready?” Jungkook says, picking up a microphone from the wall.

“Yup, let’s go!”

YN spends the next hour and a half being absolutely blown away. Hoseok was right, Jungkook did sell their band short. She completely understands how they were able to win at the state level. Each one of them is incredibly talented. Jungkook sings the lead vocals, assisted by Jimin. Hoseok plays every note on the guitar perfectly and Yoongi’s piano is nearly enough to bring her to tears. At first glance, YN would have expected them to be a more traditional band, but most of the songs they play are slow and soulful, nearly erotic. Any fun loving personalities they previous had have been completely masked by a sure, nearly painful persona, the look in Jungkook’s eyes causing YN’s skin to erupt in goosebumps. When they finish rehearsal, YN is shell shocked.

“So,” Jungkook begins, slightly out of breath, “What did you think?”

“What did I - you’re amazing! So amazing, what the heck! All of you are so talented, oh my God,” YN says, addressing all of them.

“Thank you!” they all chorus.

As Jungkook and YN are walking back to their apartment, neither of them having any more classes for the day, YN can’t help but stare at him in shock.

“What?” he asks, turning around and walking backward.

“I just . . . why did you agree to go along with my stupid lie? You’re actually so amazing. I don’t get it,”

“Amazing? How?”

“Are you being serious?” YN asks, flabbergasted, “You’re incredibly attractive, you dress like a model, and your voice is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I really don’t get it, you should take laughed in my face as soon as I asked you about dating me,”

Jungkook stops so abruptly that YN bumps into his chest.

“What?” she asks, surprised by the look on his face.

“Don’t say that,” his voice deadly serious.

YN is silent, not quite sure how to react.

“I have a confession to make. I agreed to date you because I like you,”

“Me? Why?” YN asks, genuinely confused.

He’s at least four points more attractive than she is, hands down. She doesn’t do anything remotely interesting. She’s not even good at keeping their house clean.

“Why does anybody like anybody? I just do,”

“Okay,” YN says, not really believing him.

“Give me your hands,”

“What?”

Jungkook extends both of his hands, palm up.

“Take my hands now,”

Slowly glancing between his hands and his face, YN reaches out, laying her palms on top of his.

“Don’t worry, I’ll prove it to you,”

Chapter Three

[barra-cuuda]

So some interesting life stuff happened. Feel free to skip because it is long, personal and about the legal system and I’m writing about it because I’m happy and proud of myself.

About a year ago, I filed a wage complaint against my former employer for cutting my pay before notifying me of a pay cut, stealing my tips, not paying overtime, and not giving me my lunch breaks. They were really so much worse than that, though.

Basically, these people are wealthy and from a Western European country with much stricter labor laws than here in the US. They decided to open a business in California because the climate is similar to the Mediterranean climate they’re used to and they figured that it would be “easier,” to open a small business in the US. It’s cheaper and, again, more relaxed labor laws. However, they never bothered to even learn the laws before opening and chose to flat-out ignore them and play dumb when called out on their bullshit.

The tl;dr version is fuck these people. Here’s specifically why:

Among their long list of various OSHA violations, labor law violations, immigrant abuse, and general “not illegal, but that’s a dick move,” types of offenses: watching the surveillance camera footage at all times to nitpick mistakes employees made throughout the day, taking “mistakes,” out of the tip pool (which was somehow always a flat $60-80/week even though we’d make those kinds of tips per employee in one day), bullying a pregnant coworker and refusing to accommodate her medical needs during her pregnancy (literally saying that they didn’t care if she miscarried), and yelling at us for sweating while cooking in between a 450F cooking surface and a 350F waffle iron. They also basically trapped one of my coworkers into never being able to leave. She was from the same country as the owners, but her immigration status fell through when she divorced the American that she married. The owners paid her under the table and constantly held the income “they gave her,” over her head and blackmailed her into doing all sorts of awful, degrading shit. She said she couldn’t leave because the owners were “so kind,” to her and she felt that she couldn’t look for other work without risking getting deported. All the stuff I mentioned barely scratches the surface. I could write a book about all the shitty-ass bullshit these shitlords pulled. Again, fuck these people.

The pay cut they gave me was the last fucking straw. I filed that complaint against them and estimated that they owed me $2,000 at the very least.

While I did have some evidence, I didn’t have enough to feel confident about my case. I didn’t hire a lawyer, either. It was just me and my understanding of the law against the two owners, their lawyer, and the employee that they bribed into pushing their narrative. They fought dirty, too. They fabricated “evidence,” against me, falsified their business reports, and slandered my character. Favorite line from my fake coworker: “Who are you going to believe? A marine biology student with top marks at a prestigious university, or an uneducated low-life working a minimum-wage job?”

Some parts I felt confident about. The lawyer seemed to have very little understanding of what the complaint was actually about and he couldn’t provide any evidence that my pay cut didn’t take place in the way I described. He seemed panicked for most of the hearing. Any new evidence that I provided caused him to panic further. The labor commissioner conducting the hearing also caught everyone in their party in a few lies. But hey- if you tell a fake story and provide falsified evidence, it’s pretty much a given that the details won’t match up. So that was pretty tasty.

Other parts, I didn’t feel confident about at all. The sheer number of people telling the same story while I was the only one standing up for myself felt discouraging. Also, some of the evidence I had wasn’t the right kind. I couldn’t even provide some of the most damning evidence because of technical difficulties. I walked away from it deciding that I didn’t win the case, but oh well... at least I stood up for myself.

Well. Yesterday, I got an envelope in the mail from the department of labor. When I skimmed the letter, I saw “...you will find the enclosed check...” and my heart went “!!!!”

The department of labor awarded me with every penny that my former employer owed me.

Justice has been served piping fucking hot to these shitlord bastard capitalists, I can pay off my debts, and tonight, I dine on sushi with a cool $3,000 in my bank account.

It’s not quite enough to buy me a whole new life, but it’s pretty fucking close.

[prorevenge]

Coworker thinks he knows better than me, but forgets policy.

This is a long post as it requires a decent back story. If you’re killing time on the toilet or have a spare minute or two give it a read. I hope this fits here, if not please direct me to where it should be.

Backstory: I worked for a large private training company who also owned 3 other small ‘sister’ companies. This meant that while the 3 sister companies still traded as themselves, they were owned & operated higher up by my company and would eventually become a part of our company as they were disintegrated.

As a training consultant, I looked after our largest client. I took care of all inductions, formal training and accredited training of the students from this client and because of my strong relationship with our client they didn’t like anyone else dealing with them.

I was also quite new to the training industry, but not new to the field I was teaching- hospitality. I had been working in hospitality for years prior to landing this job so I had years of relevant on the job experience from almost every level, and when I started working for the training company I quickly (in 1 year) completed my accredited training to be able to teach, so all of the knowledge I had learnt in terms of compliance along with my employee contract and handbook were still fresh in my mind. This will be relevant later.

Because the client I looked after served alcohol, all of the staff working for them needed to have their certificate to be able to serve alcohol in the restaurant. While our company itself weren’t accredited to be able to provide this qualification, one of our sister companies was. I had 22 students needing to either complete or update their Qual and as mine was due to expire soon my manager wanted me to attend the session also. It was on a Saturday (my day off) but it was a free qualification, I would get to do it alongside my students and my manager said I could have the Monday off to make up for my time. I was more than happy to attend.

Important to add: one of the restaurants I trained in had a meeting room upstairs. I had only been up there about 3 times because I always held my one on one sessions in the restaurant seating as it was easier to observe students and they were also able to quickly jump back into work if it were busy. Not one person from my company or the sister company had asked me about the room upstairs.

As a trainer, it is our job to inspect any site that we will be holding a training session in at least 1 day (no more than 1 week) prior to ensure that a venue is appropriate and adheres to safety standards. If we deem it unsafe, we have to report it and cannot hold a session unless the safety concerns can be rectified or we can gain approval for a different venue. This is not only legally part of our job, but it is written into our contracts.

All 23 of us turn up at the store at 8.45am as the session was due to start at 9. I made sure that everyone knew to be prompt as the session was due to run until 4pm and a lot of people had shifts to start after the course and I had a 2 hour drive home.

The trainer comes downstairs and I introduce myself. He then starts ranting about how the room upstairs isn’t safe to hold the session in. The first thing I asked was didn’t you come and do a safety check of the venue prior to today like you’re supposed to? He says no, he didn’t have time and now he’s annoyed because he has to cancel the session. I explain that this is extremely unacceptable and that I am not happy with him at all because he knows he is supposed to do a check before the day of the session, and that not only have I traveled 2 hours on my day off for this but I had 22 students (all from different stores I should add) who had to have their shifts and rosters made to work around this session. I explained to him why this was extremely unprofessional on his part and he scoffed at me now telling me off because he’s been doing this job longer than I’ve been alive and I know nothing.

I decided to do a check of the room before calling my manager to explain all of this to her, while the trainer was coping an ear full from the restaurant manager. After completing my safety check I also deemed the room to be unsafe to hold a session, I came downstairs and spoke to the RM and gave him my reports on the hazards and what needed to be fixed before any of my students (meaning his entire staff) could be in that room. I then went to call my manager to explain the situation when the dickhead trainer (who I will refer to as DH from now on) came running in saying he had found another room available at a hotel down the road. He told us where to go and to give him 15 minutes to set up the room. It was already 9.30am by this stage, so I knew by the time we started we would be running 1 hour behind. I explained the time issue to the DH but he assured me he would move through content faster so we wouldn’t run late. He left to go and set up the room & I called my boss to explain it all.

She was fuming especially because he hadn’t bothered to contact her about any of the issues or to get authorization to book another room but told me to call her after the session because after all the fuss she wasn’t going to pull the pin on the client and ruin the day more.

The session started at 10.15am, and it was horrible. The DH was so out of touch I couldn’t believe he had been doing the job for so long. He took so long to talk about anything, refused to take questions, tried to relate personal stories to the content that made no sense, on 3 separate occasions told the room he was smarter than we’ll ever be and that we might think we know more than him but we don’t. He told a 30 min story about a car accident his daughter had 2 years ago and rambled for so damn long that by the lunch break at 12.30 we had gotten through 4 pages of content out of 230. My students were freaking out about the timing and were clearly frustrated by the DH. I was so frustrated myself and embarrassed that this guy was representing my company. I went back to the room early to ask him to move along faster with the content so we could get to the test on time. He told me the test would take an hour, so I told him it would need to be taken no later than 3pm and that he would need to keep his content relevant to the test so we could all get out on time. He obliged.

Well by 2.45pm i was more pissed than ever. I demanded that he let us have 15 minutes of reading time before we started the test because we were only up to page 34 in the book and we didn’t have time to listen to his stories. He argued with me telling me that he would fail me if I kept speaking back to him. I tried explaining respectfully over and over what the issues were but he wouldn’t have a bar if it. He told me he would fail me no matter what my score on the test was because of my attitude. I walked out and my students sat in silence. I called my boss, explained everything to her and she told me to put him on the phone immediately. I walked back in, gave him the phone and tried to calm my students while he went outside on the phone.

He came back in 5 minutes later and told us it was time to take the test. I don’t know what was said on the phone.

Most of us that were just doing a refresher answered very quickly, the rest took a little longer but everyone was done within 40 minutes. When it was time to hand them in, all of the students started panicking that they wouldn’t pass because DH was a jerk. He wanted them to hand him their test while he graded it in front of them. This was not allowed. After to many people had the same concerns, I told DH that I wanted him to mark the tests now while we waited and I collected everyone’s papers and put them in a pile for him to mark. Because he wasn’t familiar with anyone’s names, he now couldn’t be biased when marking.

When the day was over everyone left feeling pretty flat and disappointed in how the day had gone. I was so embarrassed for my company and to be honest I was fuming at this ignorant idiot. I told my students I would handle it and to enjoy their weekends.

I knew DH had violated a lot of policies but one thing stuck in my mind. He didn’t get approval for the room hire, and I knew what that meant and I had been holding onto that information the whole day. I didn’t remind him of the policy because he was a dick and from the moment he booked the room, I thought to myself I might not be able to fire him or reprimand him personally, but I can sure make sure he pays. Literally.

I got in my car and called my boss. I explained everything to her, and she requested I send her a detailed email when I get home. I got home, wrote the email in great detail with reference to policies in our contracts and handbook that had been violated and sent it off.

I come in on Monday and have a meeting with my training manager, state manager and the GM of our company was conferenced in as was the state manager for the client. I was praised for how I handled the situation, how I supported my students and followed policy and I was given a bonus (of the cash kind) for my efforts and dedication to the company.

As for DH, well not only was he reemed for his behaviors, his Unprofessionalism and for not following policy in regards to room checking, he also forgot one little thing when booking that hotel room for the session. He forgot something I didn’t forget, and something that was detailed in my email to my manager. Something that states in our employee contracts, a contract that he has signed.

(I’m paraphrasing here I can’t remember word for word) If a consultant books a room of value greater than $300 for training purposes, it must be approved in writing by the training manager (or the state manager in her absence) before booking confirmation can occur. Failure to gain written approval will result in the employee not being reimbursed for the room.

Well unlucky for DH that room cost $550 because of the last minute booking (and it was a nice hotel i might add). That was $550 out of his pocket that he was not reimbursed for because he didn’t gain even verbal approval from management to book the room, not to mention he needed it in writing anyway.

Our client also requested that DH never be allowed to be involved with their business again.

Because DH had done so many things wrong both ethically and professionally like refusing me a grade even if I passed in front of 22 witnesses, trying to grade tests in front of the student who completed it, not completing a safety check prior to the session, booking a room without approval and the terrible student and client feedback, he was also let go from the company.

So after a terrible day, DH not only no longer had a job but was $550 out of pocket. Goes to show that just because you’ve been doing a job longer than someone doesn’t mean you’re doing it right.

TLDR: Coworker thinks he’s better than me because he’s been doing the job longer. Turns out he’s an idiot and now out of pocket $550 and a job.

(source) (story by scooter-magee)

[istheresomebodywhocanimagine]

Tomorrow Never Came PT. 11 (TW)

The year is up - tonight is the night, and you do your best to prepare for what is to come, both on this night and after all of it has died down. But because we can never be happy, a wrench is thrown into the works. 

Read PT. 1 here | Read PT. 2 here | Read PT. 3 here | Read PT. 4 here | Read PT. 5 here | Read PT. 6 here | Read PT. 7 here | Read PT. 8 here | Read PT. 9 here | Read PT. 10 here | Read PT. 10.5 here

TRIGGER WARNING: ABUSE, IMPLICATIONS OF SEXUAL ASSAULT, GENERAL ANGST

You didn’t tell him what day it was. It wouldn’t help him tonight, anyways. He had a gig – ‘a massive one,’ as he had called it, and he was quite sore that you had turned down his invitation to come.

“You never come to any of my good shows,” he complained loudly, his body situated between your legs in front of the couch as you brushed through his hair, helping him decide how to style it for the aforementioned show.

“They’re all good,” you replied absentmindedly, trying to find his part and pursing your lips in concentration. “Besides, what good does a girlfriend at a show do? You’ll get much more attention from the crowd if I’m not there to scare all the groupies off.”

“Fuck that attention. I want you to be there,” he grumbled, leaning his head back so he was looking up at you, making you lose your progress with finding the part in his hair. Frowning a bit at both at your foiled attempt and Roger’s thoroughly upset expression, you caressed his cheek gently and sighed. “Can’t you just ask for the night off?”

Ask off the one night you’d been sent back to this era to fix? “No, sorry bubs,” you answered truthfully, though the word was loaded. But Roger didn’t put 2 and 2 together, so he continued to pout and lifted his head up again to let you continue your magic.

And he hadn’t questioned it again, thank God. He’d simply made sure to see you on his way out, pestering you more than normal while Freddie took a bit longer to get ready.

“Are you going to play loud for me?” you asked as you fixed a stray piece of his hair, marveling at the solid hairstyle you’d chosen for him tonight. “Damn, you look good like this.”

“Thanks, my girlfriend did it for me,” he schmoozed, making you laugh, and his arms wrapped around your waist as he pulled you onto his lap, laying back a bit against the couch. “Of course I’ll play loud for you. I want you to hear it even if you’re across the city.”

“Wish I could be there,” you murmured, a bit wistful, but gravely aware of the reason you couldn’t be. Tonight was the night. At an ungodly hour of night, your mom would stop in to pick up some materials and be ambushed on the way out. It was your job to stop this ambush. There was a lot resting on this night, and to say you were anxious would be an understatement.

Roger felt the anxiety in the way your hands shook as you traced shapes into his chest, staring off at seemingly nothing, and his eyebrows furrowed. “It’s okay, babe, really. There’s one at the end of the week, you can just come then. I know work’s been busy.”

God, it made you smile a bit at how ignorant he was right now. He knew it was happening soon, but in his panicking about this gig, he’d forgotten the exact date, and you were so thankful it wasn’t weighing on him anymore. It was nice to not have his worries on top of yours, to have your boyfriend just as whacked out about you saving your mom as you were. It was calming. And he was right – you could just come Friday.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right,” you agreed, raising your head and slowly sitting up as your other roommate walked in, fixing his sleeves.

“Ready, Rog?” an ever-impatient Freddie asked, raising an eyebrow as you climbed up off the couch, stretching before walking over to the entryway while Roger took a bit longer. “We’ve got to be off in a few or we’ll be late for the show. Brian won’t let us hear the end of it.”

“Coming, coming,” Roger grumbled playfully, and the pair of them approached together, but Freddie’s arms extended first, roping you into a big hug as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Unfair. I believe that’s my girlfriend, Fred.”

“Well, she was my roommate first,” Freddie retorted, mussing your hair before putting you at arm’s length. “Scrabble tomorrow night? You’re off, right?”

Roger began to protest, as he’d wanted to take you out, but you talked over your boyfriend with a wide smile and genuine agreeance in your voice. “Absolutely. Don’t think I won’t kick your ass if you try to pull the triple vs. double square thing on me again, though.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. Cheers!” And with that, he was off, leaving you to a disgruntled Roger that still pulled you in for warm, prolonged hug. You didn’t want to leave the security of his arms, almost whining as he pulled back for a moment, but your whine was quickly silenced by his lips pressing against yours, distracting you immediately as you kissed back eagerly, bringing a hand up to his arm and pressing close. Every time he kissed you was like the first time, and a dizzy feeling edged into your brain as he pulled away slowly, kissing your nose.

“Go on now,” you urged quietly, although there was zero conviction in your voice to match the words, and Roger smiled knowingly before giving you one last, quick kiss before heading to the door.

“We’re staying at Bri’s, I’ll be home in the morning to wake you up at the asscrack of dawn!” Giving him a playful warning look, you followed him down the entryway and held the door open for him, leaning your head against it. He paused for a moment as he exited, his captivating blue eyes searching your face for a moment before a wider smile graced his peachy lips.

“Alright. See you tomorrow, bubs.” With that, you started to close the door, watching him the entire time you closed it. And he matched your intensity with the same gaze, the contact not breaking until you finally shut the door, sighing and leaning your forehead against it. You had maybe a few hours to prepare. It was go time now.

Weaving your way through the flat, you gathered a few things – your notebook, a hat, and some sunglasses. Though it was a poor disguise, you couldn’t be too careful about your mom seeing you and throwing all kinds of things extremely off balance in the future. Even though you weren’t going back, you were terrified of what the consequences of her own recognition would be, so you decided to play on the safe side.

Looking behind you and staring at the door for a minute to make sure the boys wouldn’t pop back in, you then made your way into Roger’s room where you knew there was a pocket knife. You’d seen it in Kensington Market and mentioned it once as a joke for protection against your coworker – a day later, he came home with the exact thing, complete with your initials crudely engraved on the handle on one side, and his on the other. RMT.

Entering Roger’s room, you beelined for the desk, opening the top drawer and pulling it out. Flipping it over in your hands, you ran your thumb over the bumpy initialing on the handle, smiling at the sentiment of his own initials on there. It was corny, sure, but the fact that he’d remembered and went out of his way to bring back this gift was a reminder of how devoted Roger was. As much as Freddie tried to pass him off as the ladies man with a short attention span, you knew there were far too many layers to your dirty-blonde boyfriend for that simple of a characterization to ever have merit.

With a quick sigh, you pocketed the knife and turned to his mirror, pulling up your hair into a tight bun before pulling the cap up over it and letting the bun stick out of the back. After that, you quickly slid the sunglasses on and stared at your own reflection, shaded by the lenses of the glasses you’d brought with you from 2018. Now, all there was left to do was wait.

And that was the worst part – sitting out on the street in Roger’s car, just staring at the church. You didn’t know what time it happened. Your uncle never gave you a specific time, just a general idea that it was later at night than she usually came. So, you sat there for hours, distracting yourself only with your notebook and staring at the pocket knife, hoping desperately that you wouldn’t have to use it but dreading the very likely possibility that you would.

And then, there she was. It was hard to tell it was her at first – the streetlights on your block were admittedly running on their last legs, so the dimly lit sidewalks almost concealed the younger version of your mother, confidently approaching the church without a single care in the world. God, if only she knew.

You checked the clock for a brief moment. Damn. You’d been here for almost 3 hours. Sitting up in the driver’s seat, you stretched and observed warily as William and Ted came to greet her on the front steps, ushering her inside. Taking a shaky breath, you realized this was it. You fix this, and everything would be alright again. You could be with Roger, your mother could be safe from those bastards, and life would go on, as fucked as the space-time continuum probably was. Or whatever they’d called it in those bullshit time travel movies. You supposed Roger wouldn’t even know – Christ, you were so far back in time that Back To The Future wasn’t even a fucking thing.

Shit. There she was again, arms full of teaching materials and books. She exited without even a hint of being troubled, turning down the alleyway and marching straight towards her inevitable attack. Shoving the knife in your pocket, you unlocked the car door and crawled out, looking around to see if there were any cars coming before you shut the door quietly and crossed the street. And as you got halfway across, you heard it – the shriek of a helpless woman, quickly muffled by a strong hand.

Adrenaline kicked in as you raced across the other half of the road, blood rushing in your ears so violently that you could barely hear your own voice as you shouted down the dark, incredibly terrifying alleyway. “Hey! Stop it!” The tone of your voice betrayed you, more shaky than anything, and you quietly cursed at yourself for being so out of your element. But right now, there was no time to be scared and back out – this was it.

Sucking in a deep breath, you felt your heart rate spike even more as you started sprinting down the narrow passageway, quickly gaining on the trio. And what you saw was horrific – William, towering over the two of them while Ted had her pinned to the ground, her skirt in the process of being torn to shreds while William had frozen in reaching down to clamp a hand over her mouth. And she looked so terrified, so dazed, like she had no idea what had hit her, probably because she really didn’t – not yet.

They knew they’d been caught in a compromising position, but William and Ted were frozen in place, unsure how they were supposed to talk their way out of this. William was breathing heavily, obviously already riled up over the entire 30 second experience, and Ted was a bit wide-eyed, looking frantic and caged and pathetic as he stared at you. His eyes followed your trembling hand as it dove into your pocket, pulling out the knife and flicking it open. This was not what you’d expected - somehow, you expected it to be less animalistic and more civilized, but all of your expectations were shattered with this horribly indicative display of male entitlement and pure lechery. It was simply horrrific, not a grandiose display of disgusting matter but rather a raw, unfiltered one. Whatever they had to say, they could shove it up their asses.

“Get the fuck off of her. Now.” That was all you had to demand, coupled with a lift of the knife into an offensive stance, ready to go if need be. They were gone in a heartbeat, running off down the alley away from the church, and you realized they were attempting to cover up the fact that it was them. But it was already too late. The look in your mom’s eyes was full of betrayal, of knowledge that her closest friends had planned her degradation/assault. That’s when you realized she was bleeding from the lip, her lower lip busted and bruised, possibly from a slap or a hit from William and his tarnished, false purity ring. “Oh shit, m- you’re bleeding, let me help you.”

Hurrying to her side, you helped her up from where she was still laying, wrapping an arm around her waist and helping her across the empty street to your flat building, opting to use the bathroom in the lobby instead of revealing your home base. It was poorly lit, unbelievably grimy, but it looked like she wouldn’t even have noticed if she’d tried. She had the thousand-yard stare, one you’d already seen far too often in 2018, symptoms of PTSD that would go undiagnosed for over 20 years. God, this was your mom right in front of you. Flesh and bone.

Hands shaking, you wetted down a paper towel and started dabbing at her lip, hoping that she couldn’t see how wide your eyes were behind the sunglasses. Even though they hindered your vision quite a bit, you kept them on as you cleaned her up, a deafening silence surrounding the two of you until you’d thrown away the last paper towel. When your back was turned, she finally spoke, her voice ringing out clear as day and making you shiver.

“Thank you so much.” Turning around slowly, you saw that she was now looking directly at you, and you held back a gasp as you saw a bit of life in her eyes again, something you hadn’t seen in so long it almost seemed to be fake. “I don’t know what I would have done if-“

“You’re welcome.” You again sounded so unsure, you wanted to smack yourself, but you cleared your throat and ran a hand over the back of your head, swallowing hard. “Fuck those guys.”

“Yeah.” She paused for a moment, then laughed sadly, letting her gaze drop down for a moment as she leaned back against the sink, wincing a bit at the cold. “Yeah, fuck those guys. I just can’t believe… I don’t know. I think I’m just going to go back to my brother’s flat. I can’t think straight for the life of me.”

“I’ll walk with you,” you offered, shoving your hands in your pocket before giving her a questioning look. There was so much of you in her, it made you feel a bit sick, but you pushed the queasy feeling in your stomach down and watched as she raised an eyebrow, her face of contemplation mirroring your own before she nodded. A sigh of relief left your lips and you opened the door for her, leading her back out to the sidewalk on the other side of the building so she wouldn’t have to see the church again. Not right now.

“I really can’t thank you enough,” she mumbled softly as she started off in the direction of Dan’s apartment, walking side by side with you down the sidewalk and sending you glances every once in a while. The sunglasses seemed to be making her curious, but you ignored the glances in favor of remaining more of a mystery to her. “What’s your name?”

And damn your mind, because for a moment, you slipped. “Y/N.” You immediately tensed, closing your eyes for a second as you mentally slapped yourself, but then you returned to normal, trying not to raise any more alarms for her than she’d already had tonight. “What’s yours?”

“Y/M/N.” Nodding, you kept your gaze straight ahead and let her lead the two of you, fiddling with the buckle on the back of your hat. “I like your name. Y/N. Very pretty.”

“Thank you,” you almost whispered, feeling tears start to well up in your eyes, but you forced them to go away, sniffling once and pursing your lips. Not now. Don’t cry in front of her. This is about her, not you. “You know, those guys are a bunch of assholes. I live across the street and they’re seriously the biggest pair of hypocrites I’ve ever seen.”

“A week ago, I wouldn’t have believed you if you told me that, but now…” she trailed off again, looking up to the sky as if she was forcing some tears to roll back in her head. She probably was, and you sucked in a harsh breath as you realized that there was no way to guarantee she wouldn’t be just as fucked up from this as she was from the last time it’d happened. “I guess I just don’t know who to trust anymore. It’s a scary world.”

“Hey, it’s not all that bad,” you assured, trying to remain positive as you looked over at her, seeing the glistening wetness of her eyes. “Just… don’t be afraid to ask for help about this. Shit like this can really mess you up in the head, and I guess…. I wouldn’t want someone as nice as you all screwed up because two assholes couldn’t keep their hands off.”

She was slowing, indicating that you were nearing the building, and you came to a stop with her in front of a building you’d remembered your uncle mentioning once or twice. Your mom put her hand on the door handle, hesitating a moment before glancing across the street and squinting a bit, then looking back to you. “Do you want to come in? I’m sure my brother would love to meet you.”

“No! No, it’s okay, I, uh…” You trailed off, looking across the street to stall a bit when you saw him. Weston, standing on the other side of the road, leaning up against the bonnet of one of the cars and smoking nonchalantly. It was a dim resemblance in the shitty night light, but it was definitely him, and you felt your heart drop into your stomach as you looked back to your mom, smiling weakly. “It was nice meeting you, but my boyfriend’s probably expecting me. Listen, just, uh… stay safe, alright? The world’s not as bad as those guys make it seem.”

Looking down at her skirt, your mom seemed to weigh both sides of the argument before nodding, still a bit unconvinced but giving you a satisfied enough smile to set your mind at ease. “Well, goodnight, Y/N. Thank you for everything. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, maybe,” you agreed, though you knew you’d be avoiding her at all costs. You’d gotten lucky enough not nearly getting killed for being around her this long. It would be suicide to go out of your way to see her any more. “Good night.”

With one last smile and nod, she retreated inside of the building, clutching at the ripped ends of her skirt as she disappeared up the staircase. Watching her until she was out of view, you got a moment of peace before you felt his presence slowly emerge, coming to rest right beside you. “Need a pal to walk back with?” The smell of smoke invaded your nostrils, and you could hear him stomping out the cigarette as you closed your eyes, trying not to blow up on this stupid salt-and-pepper haired man.

“God, I thought I’d get lucky enough to never see your stupid ass again,” you muttered, turning on your heel and huffing a bit as you started to quickly walk back to your flat. You were not in the mood, but Weston very much was, easily catching up and matching your pace as you crossed the street. “Could you seriously just fuck off? I don’t need your lofty opinion of what I choose to do about my future. Tonight has been enough already.”

“It’s never going to work. You and that scruffy drummer.”

“Oh, please enlighten me. I’d love to hear all about how you think I don’t belong here and that I shouldn’t spend the rest of my life with someone I love now that I know I’ve fixed things for my mom,” you spit, so much sarcasm dripping from your words Weston would have been an idiot not to catch even a drop of it. And he did, chuckling while rubbing his 5 o’clock shadow and falling into step with you.

“Are you really going to make me spell it out for you? Don’t go back to him. Leave while you can. He’s not home right now, is he?”

“I’m not answering that,” you replied simply, crossing over another street and getting thoroughly annoyed at the fact that there was no way to shake him. He was persistent, his strides matching yours and locking you into pace that was frustratingly in sync. “I’m not leaving him. Why should I?”

You meant it more as a rhetorical question, but Weston did not take it that way, sighing as he followed you down the last block of walking, your flat building in view. “Because I know exactly how you feel. I was there once.”

“What?” you asked suddenly, so floored that you stopped abruptly. He didn’t anticipate the stop, walking forward a few steps before skidding to a stop and coming back to stand in front of you. “What do you mean you were here once? You were in love with Roger Taylor?”

Weston burst out laughing, moving his hands to his jacket pockets as he shook his head, acting as if the thought was absurd. “God, no. I don’t even know who he is besides the fact that he’s Queen’s drummer. I meant, I’ve been in your position before. In love with someone who I belonged with so much that it was never meant to actually be in a world that was fair.”

“I-“ You were at a loss for words, standing there listless for a moment before slowly starting to advance past him towards your building, barely noticing him trailing you as you muttered, “How could you ever know how I really feel?”

“I don’t,” he replied simply, looking up at the balcony that was roughly in the vicinity of your flat, just outside Roger’s window. “I just see you two up there a lot. Looks a hell of a lot like love. Like true love.”

“It is,” you murmured softly, your heart simultaneously swelling and contracting at the thought of Roger and leaving him. “I love him so much. I could never leave him. Not like this. Never.”

When you reached the building, Weston walked around you to grab the door, holding it open as you passed through like a ghost, not really seeing where you were going but going through the motions – up the stairs, down the hallway, unlock the door, go into your flat. Weston talked the whole way up, the words hardly registering in your ear but drilling into your brain as you pictured Roger, probably having the time of his life at his gig right now. “I had that once with a girl just down the road from here. It was beautiful – she loved me and I loved her, and I couldn’t imagine being anywhere but here with her, even if I didn’t belong here like that. She was the reason I wanted to stay. But I couldn’t.”

When it got quiet, you sat down on the couch, not really inviting Weston to sit but not protesting when he took the chair adjacent, and you frowned. “Couldn’t what?”

“Couldn’t stay. Not when the universe was doing everything to prevent it. It wasn’t meant to be. I couldn’t keep putting her in danger like that. She deserved so much better.”

“But….” You trailed off, your heart shattering as you remembered all the tiny ways the universe had threatened you and Roger. Nearly getting hit by a car, your run-ins with the creepy coworker, a few close calls with Roger and the train that he’d written off as being a klutz. 

There were so many more that popped up as red flags now. A cut from a dropped knife that ended up in stitches, Roger nearly catching on fire after a show, all small things you’d chalked up to insignificant blunders that now painted a bigger picture. The world would really try until the very end to break you two apart or kill one or the other, as long as it ended your bond. That was the end goal – the termination of you and Roger. You didn’t belong here. Weston was right.

“I know, it’s a lot.” Weston’s voice called you back out of your thoughts, a small tear coming to the corner of your eye as you looked up at him, searching his face for any hint that he was joking. Finding nothing but a stony-faced middle aged man, you broke down into crushing sobs, the weight of everything falling on you all at once, shattering your ribcage, piercing your heart. You couldn’t stay.

“I told Roger I’d see him tomorrow, in the morning. I wanted to wake up to him coming home.”

But tomorrow never came.

(a/n: this is not the end! There are a few more parts left, so keep your eyes peeled. Also here’s some tissues if ur upset srry jk i dont have any)

PT. 1 PT. 2 PT. 3 PT. 4 PT. 5 PT. 6 PT. 7 PT. 8 PT. 9 PT. 10 PT. 10.5

taglist - @crosmopolitan @just-ladyme @rogerfxckingtaylor @fourmisfitz@shae-is-not-ok @moreinfinite @fruityfreddie @poachedhazontoast@strawberryfields-forever @imladrs @psychoticobsession @killer-queen-xo@rebelrebelyourefaceisamess @destiel-stucky4ever-loki-queen@brownhardyho @stardvstial @iminlovewith-rogers-car @benyeehawdy@mercurys-bike @mazzelloplots @beaaatle @sunshine112 @wonderless-screwup @rogers-sweatbands @whowaits4everanyway @sunflower-borhap-boys @bitemerog @sitonmyhot-seatoflove @siriusly-a-nerd @rockerchic93@darkangel711 @jennyggggrrr @bensrhapsody @xiaoqueencava

[paradisobound]

I Want It, I Got It: Chapter 20

Summary: Phil Lester was a worker for the BBC in London. Working in the advertising department, he was content being alongside his friend and fellow coworker PJ during every shift. However, the BBC is temporarily being used as a film set for a new movie staring Hollywood ‘It’ star, Daniel Howell. Being stuck as an extra on the set, Phil finds it’s hard to ignore the famous star. And maybe, just maybe, Dan finds it hard to ignore Phil as well.

Word Count: 4k (this chapter)

Warnings: Occasional swearing and alcohol and sexual content 

Rating: Explicit

Updates will be every Sunday around 1pm EST

**MASTERLIST | READ ON AO3 | WATTPAD**

This party felt a bit different than the one that was at Dan’s house just a few nights before. This one felt a bit more intimate and if Phil was being honest, that made it that much scarier to him. 

He felt completely out place and like there was nowhere for him to hide. At Dan’s party, there had been so many people that it didn’t make a difference if he tried to push through the crowds of people and move on to a different area. But right now, he was stuck in the middle of a conversation at Dan’s side at a pub table that was dressed up way too fancy…Phil was sure that there were Swarovski crystals lining the outside. He was afraid to so much as leave a finger print on them. 

Dan looked right in his element though and maybe that was what made Phil a tad bit more scared that he should have been. Dan looked so comfortable and poised and here was Phil, stood with his elbows on the edge of the pearl white table cloth and a half-drunk glass of Champagne stood in-between his hands. 

Dan had introduced him to these people who he was speaking to but Phil can’t bothered to actually remember what Dan said about them. All he knew is that Dan knew them from his movie and that’s all. 

“…Phil lives in London.” 

Phil picked his head up and looked at Dan. 

“Oh really? Which area?” 

“I’m not sure,” Dan said, turning his head towards Phil. “Which area is it?” 

Phil looked at the brunette who was currently stood on the other side of the table, her arms folded elegantly on the edge as her bracelets draped her forearms. “Victoria.” 

“Oh, Victoria!” She cooed in a way that made Phil want to roll his eyes. He actually doubted she knew where Victoria was. He wasn’t trying to be brash about it, to be fair, he wasn’t sure many people even knew London was broken up that way it was. He didn’t until he looked for flats. 

“It quite cute.” Dan commented. “His flat is near a beautiful park. And he also has the cutest puppy ever.” 

Phil was quite in shock. Had Dan been speaking so openly to this other person about him and he was just not paying any attention to notice? Or was Dan really just playing up the ‘we’re friends’ card? Phil wasn’t quite sure anymore. 

“Puppy?” She said. “Do you have photos? I’d love to see it.” 

“Oh course I have photos, Mimei.” 

Phil suddenly felt his stomach drop out of his ass. Was he really not paying that much attention to anything around him to know that this was Mimei Lake? She had a different hair color from the blonde locks she had in the attached photo from the email a couple months ago. Now it was a natural red color that reminded him of his own―but maybe her’s was a bit lighter. 

Phil watched as Dan pulled out his phone and put it on the table as he turned it around and showed her all of the photos of Spike he must have taken when he was in London. Phil watched as Dan scrolled through the photos but he didn’t recognize any of them. Nor did he know Dan had taken so many selfies with his pup. 

“What’s his name?” 

“Spike.” Dan and Phil both answered at the same time, causing Mimei to laugh. 

“Where did the name come from?” She asked. “Because that sounds like the name of a ferocious beast but he looks to be the cuddliest creature alive.” 

“It’s from a character on one of my favorite TV shows Buffy.” 

Phil watched as Mimei’s eyes lit up. “Buffy? Oh my gosh, I loved Buffy as a teen! Sarah Michelle Gellar was my idol!” 

“I used to have the biggest crush on her.” Phi admitted with a chuckle. Dan laughed to himself next to him. “My mum used to find it weird how I had her photos hanging on the walls of my room.” 

“Amazing.” Mimei commented with a smile. “That sounds like me with Aaron Carter.” 

“You both with your teenage celebrity crushes.” 

Phil and Mimei both looked at Dan with wide eyes. “You’ve never had a celebrity crush?” Phil asked, elbowing Dan gently in the side. “That’s hard to believe.” 

“Why?” Dan asked. “I had celebrity crushes but I’m not gonna admit them.” 

“And why’s that?” Phil pressed. “How bad could they be?” 

“I’m not saying.” 

Phil was going to press more on the subject when someone else rounded to the table and stood by Mimei, placing her arm around Mimei’s waist. “Hello, Dan.” 

“Hi, Dayna.” 

Okay, so now Phil had another person to remember the name of. This time, their name was Dayna. That didn’t seem so bad to try and remember. 

“Phil, this is Dayna, Mimei’s wife.” 

Phil cocked his eyebrow up. That was a pleasant surprise. Maybe that’s why Dan was comfortable mentioning Phil so much around her. “Pleasure to meet you.” Dayna said, sticking out her hand for Phil to shake. 

“Dayna, this is Phil, my boyfriend.” 

Phil had to admit that it took a bit of his breath away to hear Dan formally introduce him as his boyfriend to someone else. He panicked a bit, looking around to make sure that no one else heard anything. Everyone else was in their own little worlds around the tables, just mingling with each other. 

“Ah, so you’re the famous Phil who Dan wouldn’t shut up about.” 

Phil looked at Dan with a smile just in time to see red flourish on his cheeks. 

“Wouldn’t shut up about me, huh?” 

Dan just shook his head. “Stop embarrassing me.” 

“You do it to yourself, bud.” Mimei said with a warm chuckle.

Dayna leaned over and whispered something in Mimei’s ear before Mimei looked up and smiled at them both. “We have to get going but it was great seeing you again, Dan. I know we’re done filming our parts together but it was a pleasure working with you.” 

“You as well.” Dan nodded back as Mimei and Dayna grasped hands and headed off towards another section of the room. 

“They’re both super nice.” Phil commented once they were gone. 

Dan nodded. “I loved working with Mimei.” He paused. “Although it was a bit awkward filming our sex scene when she’s a lesbian and I’m a gay male. Didn’t quite work how it should have but…” 

“I can’t wait to see the film.” 

Phil hadn’t really ever said that aloud because he wasn’t quite sure himself if he even was interested in the film before. But now he wants to support Dan in any way that he can. 

“I can’t wait for you to see it.” 

Dan began to lean down and Phil was ready to accept the kiss when Dan suddenly stopped and stiffened, standing up a bit straighter and stopping his movements. “We actually probably shouldn’t kiss here. Do you want to head out? I’m hungry and these tiny sandwiches aren’t doing much.” 

Phil smiled at him and nodded and they both left, their flutes of champagne long forgotten on the table. 

***

Dan had a driver chauffeur them around LA to get food and they managed to stop at just a quick burger place to grab food to take back to Dan’s house. By the time they got back, it was well past midnight and Phil was feeling a bit tired, but still a little buzzed from the party. 

It was apparent that Dan was a bit buzzed himself with a second wind of energy when they both got ready for bed and Dan laid down before Phil and reached for his phone, not even blinking or yawning in the process. 

Phil watched him for a moment as he rushed out a text with his finger tips and then threw his phone off the side of the bed and turned back to Phil with a smile. “Hi.” 

“Hi.” 

Phil will never get tired of this. Of seeing Dan in such a natural state like lying in bed with his pajamas on, his hair slightly messy and his eyes a bit glassy from the alcohol buzzing in his system. 

Phil’s said it once, and he’ll say it forever but Dan really was an angel. 

“Can I ask you something?” Dan says out of the blue. 

Phil feels his heart sink about but the hopeful look in Dan’s eyes make him remember that they promised to be there for each other and to never give up on the other person. He had to remember that, even if the question had his heart beating out of his chest. 

“Of course.” 

“Do you reckon we’re moving a bit fast?” 

Phil doesn’t know what he was expecting to be the question Dan was going to ask but it certainly was not that question. He felt his heart flutter a bit more before his eyes glazed over a bit. 

“What do you mean?” 

He was preparing for the worst. Maybe Dan was having second thoughts about all of this? Maybe Dan decided that he couldn’t be with some loser like Phil who wasn’t rich or famous? Maybe Dan decided that Phil wasn’t good enough for him? 

Dan let out a loud sigh that broke Phil out of his pessimistic thoughts. “It’s…not anything bad, per se.” Dan begins, rolling onto his back as if he’s avoiding making eye contact. “But I feel as if I don’t really know you?” 

Phil felt his heart break a bit more. 

Dan rolled back onto his side and looked up at Phil. “No matter how I say this, I’m aware I’m going to look like a dick but it’s just…let’s get to know each other, yeah? I don’t want to rush forward and not know anything about you.” 

Phil let out a staggering breath. “But this isn’t you giving up on me, right?” 

Dan suddenly shot up and moved so he was sitting onto his backside on the bed, looking straight at Phil. He reached out and placed his hands on Phil’s jaw, steadying the slight wobble that it was beginning to have. 

“No, God, no!” Dan quickly reassured. “You mean the absolute world to me, Phil.” 

Phil felt like he wanted to believe him but his heart was still a bit ragged and his mind was a bit clouded. 

“And you’re the one supposed to not be giving up on me, remember?” 

Phil felt his head nod subconsciously. 

“So we’re not breaking up?” Phil asks, the question lingering in the air. 

Dan moved his hands around to behind Phil’s neck and drew Phil closer, planting a firm kiss on his lips that cause Phil to hesitate before reciprocating. He reached around and put his hand on Dan’s side, feeling the soft flesh mould under his fingers. 

Dan pulled away and shook his head. “You’re it for me, Phil. That’s what I’m trying to say. You’re my person and I can tell already that we’re meant for each other. That’s why I want to get to know you. Now if you’re going to start crying, can you maybe warn me first because I’ll cry if you cry and I really don’t want to go to bed with swollen and sore eyes.” 

Phil let out a soft chuckle of relief as he and Dan disentangled themselves away from each other long enough for him to wipe away the moisture from under his eyes. “Now,” Dan continued. “Let’s play like twenty questions or something. You ask a question, I have to answered and we’ll go back and forth until we either get bored or pass out. I’ll go first!” Dan situates himself across from Phil on the bed and smiles. “How old were you when you have your first kiss?” 

Phil scoffed. “Oh we’re playing this kind of twenty questions?” Phil teased. “What are we? Twelve year olds at a slumber party?” 

“Hell fucking yes, Phil!” Dan bellowed out. “After this will do each others hair and then have a pillow fight.” 

“Shouldn’t we be drinking for this?” Phil asks. 

“Quit stalling and answer the question, mate!” 

“I was sixteen.” 

Dan’s eyes widened and Phil suddenly felt his cheeks flush. “Oh, Phil!” 

“I was a late bloomer.” He mumbled, trying to hide the embarrassment from his voice. 

Dan noticed and reeled the conversation back in. “If it makes you feel any different, mine was when I was age 6 with a girl named Lilith and all she did was lean forward plant her mouth on mine. It was quite gross.” 

Phil let out a laugh. “How old were you when you decided you wanted to go into acting?” 

Dan leaned back a bit and looked up at the ceiling of his bedroom. Phil studied his body, looking for any signs of discomfort coming from Dan just in case he stepped over a boundary that he didn’t really mean to. 

“Well, that’s a bit of a loaded question.” Dan says, finally looking down. “Because I decided I wanted to audition for my community theatre’s play when I was quite young but I didn’t fully decide that being an actor was something I wanted to pursue until I was about 14 or 15. It kind of came with the mentality of people always telling me I was good at it and that I had the ability to act.” When he’s done, Phil looks at him and notices that Dan’s face is a bit sullen and a bit sad. But he doesn’t look hurt or upset about answering the question. “When did you decide to work for the BBC?” 

“When I realized that I had no clue where I was going in life and I felt like I needed a sense of direction.” 

That was the honest truth. Phil applied for the BBC on a whim. He had no intentions of ever getting the job nor getting near London to even take the job. But he received it and was stuck working in the BBC in an office all day with Louise, PJ, and Gemma. 

But he doesn’t hate what he does. He just hates that he lost the passion he once had to go work for an office in London.

“And the BBC gave you that?” 

Phil had half a mind to joke with Dan and tell him that he couldn’t ask more than one question but honestly, he felt like he needed to answer this one. Not only to give Dan an answer, but also give himself an answer as well. 

“No.” Phil answered truthfully. “It gave me friends and it gave me memories and it gave me money. But in the end, it also gave me a job that…” Phil let his thoughts linger off before he looked at Dan and their eyes met and he finally spoke the words he hadn’t thought he’d ever speak. “But it also gave me a job that I hate.” 

Phil doesn’t think hate is the correct term. He doesn’t hate the BBC or hate what he does. But he does hate how the BBC took up his time and his job took his time away from him to follow the true passion he used to have which is YouTube. 

“Then why do you stay?” 

“I thought this was going back and forth.” 

Phil partly teased that but he also kind of wanted to drop the subject and move onto something much more lighthearted than talking about how actually miserable he is. He didn’t realize he was even this miserable until he began talking about the BBC right then. 

Dan smiled at him. “Ask me something then.” 

“Be honest with me, okay?” Phil began and Dan nodded. “Do you wish your life wasn’t like this?” 

“Like what?” 

“Followed by paparazzi all the time? Having a house with a gate you can only get through by using an access code? Your name the source of news and headlines all over the world and fangirls crawling all over your tweets and speculating about everything you do?” 

“I hate my life, Phil.” Phil looked at Dan and saw the way his jaw wobbled as he reached up and stubbornly wiped away a tear from his cheek. “This life isn’t what you want, Phil. It’s not even what I want anymore. And If I could leave it all behind, I would.” He looked at Phil quickly before squeezing his eyes shut tightly as another tear slid down his cheek and Phil moved forward quickly to wipe it away. Dan shivered underneath his touch and opened his eyes, staring into Phil’s with a grateful look. “I want to be normal, like you. I want to work for the BBC in an office job and make YouTube videos and have friends who actually care about me. But I’ll never get any of that.” 

My life was always characterized by my name and it forever will be. For fucks sake, I have word that I might even be getting a Hollywood Star of Fame sometime next year. I have no chance for a normal life anymore. I have no chance for that. And maybe it’s a bit selfish but I want to live vicariously through you. I want to be with you when you go to the BBC and I want to be with you when you make your videos because any chance I have at a normal life, I want to grab at it and never let it go. Because my life will never go back to normal, Phil. It just can’t.” 

Phil waited until everything Dan was saying was over before he studied Dan’s face and watched as he wiped his tears away before sniffling and let out a shuttering breath. 

“I’m sorry for just unloading all of that onto you.” Dan says, letting out a small laugh. “It felt really good to actually get all of that out but I hope it doesn’t like, scare you away or anything.” 

Phil shook his head. “No, I totally get everything you’re saying.” 

Dan gives him a look of ‘you really don’t but I appreciate the sentiment’, before he lets out a long yawn and gives Phil a sympathetic look. “I’m really tired now. Do you want to get ready for bed?” 

Phil’s eyes feel a bit sore and weary so he nods. 

Dan stands up quickly and makes his way to the bathroom first, shutting the door behind him. Phil is left sitting on the bed, gathering all of his thoughts about everything Dan had just said to him. It was a lot to process and it was a bit hard for Phil to really think about at this hour and also with his mindset. 

Dan came back out a few minutes later and by that time, Phil had already settled into bed under the duvet, waiting for Dan to come back. Once under the duvet, Dan immediately rolled into Phil and Phil wrapped his around him, letting himself snuggle the younger male. 

The amount of vulnerability and openness that Dan showed Phil tonight was something he would never forget and he was convinced that it’s something that will strengthen their relationship from this point forward into the future. Dan was right after all. They really did need to get to know each other before they can move on. 

“I’m glad we had this talk.” Dan said, his voice coming out a bit muffled from talking into Phil’s chest. 

He pulled back a bit and Dan looked up at him in the pale moonlight of his room that was seeping in through the sheer curtains. “Me too.” 

Dan leaned forward and connected their lips together. Phil pushed forward, deepening the kiss as Dan rolled onto his back willingly. Phil’s been hungry for Dan’s kisses all night and having Dan kissing him again was taming the embers that were firing up inside his core.

He found himself hovering over Dan, lips detached from his lips and making small kisses down his jaw onto his neck. He found the soft flesh of Dan’s neck and nipped at it with his teeth a bit before sucking onto the sensitive skin. Dan moaned out, reaching his hand out and placing it on the back of Phil’s neck to hold him in place. 

Phil loved this. The taste of Dan’s skin on his tongue was like a delicacy that he couldn’t get enough of. He pulled back and moved a bit lower, attaching his lips to Dan’s collarbone. 

Dan squirmed under him as he whimpered and continued to whine at the sensations. Phil honestly felt a bit drunk off from the pheromones Dan was giving off to him. 

He pulled away, moving his head back so he could connect their lips once more. It was a bit sloppy and a bit messy and Phil was sure their teeth might have clashed but he didn’t care. Anything with Dan was amazing and nothing would ever destroy that mindset for him. 

Phil’s hips instinctively rolled down, looking for friction to serve as relief for the heat pooling in his lower body and his cock springing to full hardness. He could feel Dan’s under him, the hard outline of his own cock jutting into his hip. 

“Are you okay with this?” Phil asked, looking for consent given how open and vulnerable Dan was just ten or so minutes ago. 

Dan nodded quickly and practically begged. “Yes! Please keep going and don’t stop.” 

Phil nodded to Dan’s command and reached his hand between them, fishing his cock out of his pajama pants and letting it spring free between them. Dan reached between them and Phil felt his hand down the same and then Dan’s hips cantered up and suddenly, Phil’s vision went white. 

His head tipped down and found solace in the crevice between Dan’s neck and shoulder as he let of a loud moan. Dan’s hand wrapped around both of them and began to stroke as Phil’s hips rolled forward on their own accord. 

He’s never done this before. He’s never felt the sensation of his already painful erection being stroked along someone else. The feeling of it was enough to send shivers of heat down his spine as he struggled to remain in control of his movements. 

He picked his head up and looked down at Dan who was smiling lazily up at him. Phil quickly reached down and pushed Dan’s hand out of the way as he took over, stroking them to his tempo and his speed. 

It was over far quicker than he would have liked to admit, shooting white over Dan’s stomach and dribbling a bit over Dan’s cock. Dan finished not long after, quickly shoving Phil out of the way as he stroked himself to completion and then fell back into a heap on the bed. 

Dan got out of bed first to grab them something to clean up with and when he came back with a damp cloth, Phil gently used it to clean off his hand as he tucked himself back into his pajamas. 

Dan yawned on last time before he settled into bed and leaned over, kissing Phil a few more times with quick little pecks against his lips before settling down onto Phil’s chest. 

“Thank you.” Dan whispered, just as Phil felt himself drifting off to sleep. 

“What for?” 

“For making me feel like a normal person.” Dan says, his voice soft. “For actually making me feel loved and not like you’re using me to say you got to sleep with the famous Dan Howell.” 

“I’d never do that.” 

“I know.” Dan pressed. “That’s why I’m saying thank you.” 

Dan fell asleep not long after the conversation ended and Phil was left, laying back on the bed with his eyes wide open now as he processed Dan’s words. 

Thank you for actually making me feel loved. 

The mere thought of someone not doing that or showing that to Dan made him actually hurt. 

Sleep took a while to come that night.