#we sent emails BACK AND FORTH about it all morning yesterday | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

goldentournesol · 4 years

Text

Not in That Way

*gif not mine, found on Giphy*

(Spencer Reid x fem!Reader)

The one where Spencer’s TA falls in love with him.

Length: 3.3k

A/N: VAGUE SPOILERS FOR S15 AHEAD! AGE GAP (10 years). Read at your own risk everybody, very angsty. NO PART TWO’S WILL BE WRITTEN. enjoy :)

masterlist

It wasn’t hard, really. It wasn’t hard at all to fall in love with Spencer Reid. In fact, it was the easiest thing she’d ever done. It came so easily that it shook her to the core.

Really, what’s not to love? He is a badass FBI agent with a heart of gold, he can literally recite almost any book to her on demand, and it certainly doesn’t hurt that he looks like he’s been sculpted by a coveted artist.

She didn’t know though, she didn’t know how easy it would be to be completely enamored by someone. She didn’t know what kind of life she’d be stepping into when she’d applied to become his Teaching Assistant. She’d heard from her peers that there was a part-time professor who had been looking for a TA. She signed up without a second thought, desperate for any kind of connections that could possibly help her with her PhD in forensic psychology. When she’d learned that he was a certified genius whose other job was to be a real life superhero, she hoped and prayed he’d pick her application.

She was over the moon when she found out that he did indeed pick her out of all the students who had applied. This was an opportunity of a lifetime. She’d seen his university ID photo on the website and thought he was attractive, but seeing him in person was almost magical. The camera definitely could not quite pick up on the subtle gold flecks in his irises or the silky sheen of his hair. And that smile. She was sure she could drown in it forever.

After being chosen and going through a number of interviews, Y/N learned just how meticulous Dr. Reid was in everything he did. She helped him create the syllabus as well as build his lesson plans. Over the semester, she would go over his grading since he had the tendency to give students the answers instead of making helpful comments on the papers to make them think and reflect. She’d also learned about his particular aversion to technology, which meant they had multiple meet-ups when he was in town just so she can walk him through certain systems, like the university’s portal system as well as the email. She also showed him how to pose his answers as questions instead, explaining that sometimes, he shouldn’t answer their incomplete thoughts because it's an undergrad class. Also, with his unpredictable schedule concerning the FBI, she would often step in and teach his class whenever he was away on a case.

They’d become good friends outside of his office and classroom, probably closer than they should have been. He was just too likeable and she was always eager enough to hear what he had to say, thus a bond between them was born and reinforced each time they saw each other. He was so thoughtful, it shocked her. Once he’d heard her mention that she used to love collecting keychains when she was a child, and made sure to get her a new one from each state he’d visit thanks to his trips around the country. Her previous boyfriends were beyond disappointing in comparison to say the least, and they weren’t even dating. He knew her favorite coffee order by heart and often had it ready with a fresh croissant whenever they met at the university’s coffee shop and if they were meeting at his office, he’d take them to go.

It was little things like that that made her fall in love with him. And she knew, it’s not like she didn’t, she just chose to hide it with every cell of her being. Crushing on your professor is pretty common amongst university students, but being a TA and being desperately in love with your professor was a whole different kind of story.

She already admired his intelligence in class immensely, however hearing his stories from his time out in the field made her heart grow three times the size of normal. His stories ranged from being about geographical profiling, to action-packed anecdotes, and even funny moments with the team.

Was she constantly impressed by him? Yes.

Was she constantly worried about him? Also yes.

Which is why she’d practically made him adopt the habit of texting or calling her every time he landed in DC. They’d been chasing this unsub, Lynch, for months on end and he’d informed her that they were finally close to getting him. The last time they talked two days ago, he was feeling confident. But then it was just silence. He hadn’t texted her, he hadn’t called her. She didn’t even know if he was back in DC. Her mind took her places she didn’t want to go. He’d gotten so good with keeping her updated that this silence was turning her blood into ice water.

She’d left 11 missed calls so far. But she didn’t give up, she was determined to hear from him. The next morning she tried again, holding her breath and squeezing her eyes shut in a silent prayer.

“Hello?” Someone finally picked up, a woman.

“Hello? Who is this? I’m trying to reach Spencer Reid.” Y/N said into the phone, voice clearly on the edge of tears.

“Oh you must be Y/N Y/L/N. You’re Spencer’s TA. I’m Penelope Garcia, I work with Spencer.” She said into the phone evenly, calmly.

“Yes, I am. Did something happen to Spencer? He hasn’t contacted me in two days. Why do you have his phone?” Y/N worried into the phone. She could hear every heartbeat, loud and clear.

“Spencer is in the hospital. There was an explosion yesterday and he hit his head really hard. We found him passed out in his apartment this morning.” Penelope answered. Y/N’s eyes widened and she felt the tears slip from her eyes quickly. The panic began to set in.

“C-could you please text me the address?” Y/N managed to whisper into the phone through her tears.

“Of course, sweetie. He’s going to be okay. His mother is here, I’m assuming you know about Diana?” She asked tenderly.

“Yes, yes, I know. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Y/N said, already rushing to put on shoes and looking for her keys.

The drive to the hospital wasn’t long, but Y/N felt like it took ages to get there anyway. Her breathing was uneven and her eyes were already swollen as if she’d been crying for days. There was a bad, bad feeling reverberating around in her chest. She’d somehow floated through the hospital like she was running on autopilot.

She’d found the room and met eyes with a blonde woman adorning two identical blue puffs in her hair. She would have thought they were adorable if she wasn’t panicking her heart out. She spotted Spencer laying on the hospital bed with oxygen tubes hanging around his ears and inserted into his nose. The sight made her stomach lurch. Something about the way his usually pink lips were drained of their color made her want to sob until tomorrow came. Beside the bed on the other side sat Diana Reid, a tall woman with short blonde hair. She’d seen her in photos before. Diana merely stared at her with a hint of a smile.

She stepped in the hospital room, swallowing down the bile in her throat, “H-Hi, I’m Y/N.” She waved tentatively into the room, almost unable to keep with the tensity of the two women’s gazes. She wiped at her eyes and stood at the foot of Spencer’s bed, “Is he going to be okay?” She asked, staring at the steady rise and fall of Spencer’s chest. That way it was reassuring to watch him. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears as she stood.

“The doctors are hopeful.” Penelope replied, assessing the young woman who just entered. She was much younger than she previously thought she was. Although she had no idea what to expect when it came to Spencer’s academic life, he was always surprising her.

Diana sat still and silent in the hospital chair, a pensive expression draped across her features. Penelope sensed a tension in the room and looked towards Diana, “Hey, Diana, would you like to come with me down to the cafeteria to fetch some jello for Spencer to eat when he wakes up?”

Y/N sent Penelope a sidelong glance filled with gratitude. She tuned out the sounds of Diana telling Penelope the story of the first time Spencer had jello as they exited the small room. She immediately pulled up the chair closest to his bed and grasped his hand tightly. She let out a shaky breath at the contact. Cold, his hand was so, so cold.

“Oh, Spencer, you scared the shit out of me.” She whispered, pressing her lips to the back of his hand quickly, “I could have lost you today...and-and I wouldn’t have known what to do with myself if that would have happened. I know you probably can’t hear me, but I still have to say what I’m going to say. I have to. For myself. So here goes,” she pauses, taking a deep breath, “there’s nothing that scares me more than losing you, and that thought alone terrifies me.” She sniffled, wiping away her tears, “What I feel for you terrifies me, Spencer. I didn’t know I was capable of loving someone so deeply until I met you. And...I don’t know what to do with all this love, I want to hand it all to you, let you see yourself the way I see you, but I can’t do that. I can’t.” She held back an incoming sob, whispering, “I can’t ask that of you.”

She bowed her head and rested it along his forearm, her silent tears soaking through the hospital sheets. The fear of grieving for him outweighed the fear of rejection. She’d never forgive herself if he died without knowing how big of a space he occupied in her heart. She didn’t know if she was brave enough to tell him to his face while he was awake, but this was a start. Solidifying her feelings was a start. And man, were they solid.

A few minutes later, her phone began to ring because of an endless stream of emails. There was a class today, and she’d have to teach it. She went back and forth from her phone to Spencer’s face and released a deep, heavy sigh from the pit of her chest. She stood from her seat and hovered her hand over his cheek before allowing it to rest timidly on his skin.

“I have to go, but I’ll see you soon.” She paused, chewing on her lip, “I love you.” She said softly, fresh tears making their way back to the brim of her eyes. She pulled away from him and exited the room swiftly.

Spencer’s bleary eyes opened slightly to just barely catch the sight of her disappearing into the hallway from which she came. Seconds later, Penelope and his mother came marching in, seeing his open eyes.

Penelope set down the cups of jello nearby and Diana made her way to her son quickly. He could barely keep his eyes open for long enough. It was a small achievement but they both held onto it dearly.

Hours later, he blinked his eyes open again as he heard his mother and Penelope conversing about his favorite type of cloud. Diana leaned over her son’s bed and set a comforting hand on his shoulder. He stared at her fondly.

“Am I alive or is this heaven?” He asked, smiling slightly.

“You are very much alive.” Diana smiled broadly at him.

Garcia had since gone back to the office to assist the team in finally closing the Lynch case. Spencer was just waking up from yet another snooze.

Diana looked at him closely, sometimes he felt she was the profiler in the room, “She told you didn’t she?”

Spencer rubbed at his eyes slightly, “Who are you talking about?” He yawned.

“The pretty girl who was in here earlier.” Y/N’s name had slipped her mind the second she said it. Spencer stared at his mother incredulously, shocked at just how clear her mind was at the moment. Diana took his silence as an affirmative and nodded at him.

“You should tell her.” She said definitively. For a moment, he doubted if he understood just what she meant, but he understood.

“How did you know?” Spencer asked curiously.

“I told you, a mother always knows. And I saw the way she looked at you. She deserves to know, Spencer.” Diana said.

She deserves to know.

The thought tumbled around in his head for days after he was discharged from the hospital. He was on medical leave for the moment but as soon as he could see straight, he took the train to her apartment. He’d been there a few times, they’d had a few casual dinners there while grading papers together or coming up with future lesson plans. His hands were on the verge of trembling as he knocked on her apartment door. The numbers nailed on the door mocked him as he stood waiting for her to open.

She frowned at the sound, she wasn’t expecting anybody. She pushed her laptop to the side and stood to straighten her pajamas, making her way to the door. She ripped it open as soon as she saw who it was.

“Spencer! Oh thank goodness you’re okay! I’ve been worried sick about you.” She threw her arms around his middle tightly, making him stagger a bit from the impact, but he enveloped her in his arms anyway. The contact was very welcome.

“Hey.” He smiled into the hug, his heart spilling with gratitude over being worthy enough of her attention. They separated from the embrace and she stared at him with a look resembling wonder.

“What are you doing here? I thought you still had a few more days off until you had to get back to work. Come in, come in.” She moved aside to let him in. She also moved a plethora of blankets and textbooks off the couch to make space for him to sit.

“I know, I’m sorry for kind of coming over unannounced. I didn’t mean to intrude or anything.” He eyed her matching set of cartoon character pajamas as he took a seat, making a mental note that it was the most adorable thing he’s ever seen. She blushed under his gaze but shook her head nonetheless.

“Oh come on, you know you’re always welcome here. Can I get you something to drink? Some water or coffee, maybe?” She asked.

“Water’s fine.” He smiled, leaning back into the couch. She nodded and made her way into the kitchen. Spencer’s shoulders untensed for a moment and he hadn’t realized that he’d been carrying so much of his worries in them around her. She came back with the water and took a seat next to him, angling her body to face him. He muttered a thank you as he sipped from it, unsure how to approach the situation.

“I wanted to thank you. For coming to the hospital to see me. That meant a lot.” He met her eyes and saw a flash of panic dance across her irises. How did he know she was there? Penelope probably told him, right? He couldn’t have heard her.

“Of course, Spencer. It’s the least I could do.” She smiled sweetly. His heart cleaved in his chest as he stared at the sweet girl in front of him.

What did he ever do to deserve her friendship?

He fidgeted with the glass in his hands, a silence beginning to drape over them.

“Is everything okay?” She asked, noticing his fidgeting.

He took a deep breath and set the glass down on the coffee table in front of them. He turned his body to face her and reached for her soft hands. Her breath hitched at the intimate contact, butterflies erupting in the pit of her abdomen.

“You are a remarkable person, Y/N. I’m so lucky to have you in my life. I see the absolute worst that humanity has to offer on a daily basis, but you have made it your mission to make my life easier. And you do, honestly, I wouldn’t know what to do without you.” He said with soft eyes and a half-laugh. She smiled back, she could practically feel the rush from his words directly in her brain.

“And it is an honor to be loved by you,” his voice hesitated to say the word, his eyes darkening with regret as he continued. Realization snapped into place for her as he said, “but I can’t give you what you need.”

He had heard her. He knew.

Her blood ran cold as she tore her hands away from his, as if the skin on his hands had the ability to burn her. He frowned as he watched her frantic eyes search his for any semblance of dishonesty. Her throat closed up over all the words that fought to surface. She opened her mouth to say something but nothing came up. Instead, tears sprung to the corners of her eyes.

“What?” She whispered, brokenhearted and momentarily in disbelief.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” He tried to console her but she was past the point of consolation.

“I-I understand.” She nodded painfully, tears cascading down her face before she even got the chance to wipe them away, “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have said anything, it’s completely unprofessional.” She swallowed an incoming sob as best as she could.

“No, I’m glad you told me, but if I’m being honest, I knew long before it. This isn’t about professionality, I don’t care about that. But I care about you, a lot.” Spencer said softly, staring at the young woman in front of him. She shook her head, utterly devastated and doing her best to shield herself from his gaze. Thoughts escaped her as her heart took a deep-dive to settle in her abdomen.

“And I thought I should let you know how I feel. I love you, Y/N,” he paused, “just not in that way.” The soft voice he used was completely useless against the harshness of the words.

She tried, she tried her absolute hardest to suppress the incoming sob, but those words just about broke the dam. She rubbed at her eyes, nodding. He tried to set a comforting hand on her shoulder but decided against it. She took a deep breath and stood up from the couch.

That was enough humiliation for the day.

“No, no, I completely understand.” She said, voice wobbly and eyes ringed with red. He frowned up at her at the sight of her being so upset.

“Will you be okay?” He asked as he stood up from his seat. She laughed slightly, this man had devastated her, broken her heart with a few simple words and still wondered if she’d be okay. That’s Spencer Reid for you. The question made her heart ache and long for him more. His simplicity and good intentions made her question why the world wasn’t kind enough to let her have him.

“No, I won’t. And I probably won’t be okay for a long time. Because I will keep meeting men and keep comparing them to you so, until I stop doing that, no, I won’t be okay, Spencer.” She answered with a surprisingly stable voice. He frowned and nodded.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, stepping forward to cup her cheek and gently use his thumb to wipe the remainder of her tears. Her glassy eyes bored right into his, her lips wobbling at the contact. She then closed her eyes and leaned her cheek into his palm, soaking in his warmth one last time before he tore himself away from her completely and showed himself out of the apartment without looking back.

That was when she allowed herself to fall apart. He heard her heart wrenching cries from behind the door and hesitated, but decided to walk away anyway with a chest heavy with regret.

She will never be enough for him, she thought.

He will never be enough for her, he thought.

#im sorry #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #Spencer Reid fic #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid masterlist #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid imagine #professor reid #spencer reid fluff #mgg

531 notes · View notes

floralseokjin · 3 years

Text

⤑ made-up love song drabbles

First date: Seokjin’s POV

kim seokjin x reader warnings; none! words; 2,196 words

↪︎ read the series here / and drabbles here

Seokjin felt like a drink. It was nine o’clock in the morning, so absolutely out of the question, but it didn’t stop him from craving it. Whiskey. Definitely whiskey. Nana’s PA had just been to pick up Arin for the weekend – Thank God. Finally she would be able to spend time with her mom after a month, which he was over the moon about, and selfishly, that meant his date with you could go ahead. Even if he was so nervous he could throw up.

Work had been a great distraction for the past two days but once he’d woken up this morning the realisation had dawned on him. He was going on a date tonight. His first in a decade. He still couldn’t believe he’d actually gone through with it and asked you to dinner. He’d faced his fears, possibly made a fool of himself and shared too much about his personal life in the process, but you hadn’t seemed to mind at all. You were so easy to talk to, it was refreshing. He’d felt brave for the first time in months – years. But it still didn’t stop him from being on pins as soon as he’d opened his eyes this morning.

He’d showered early, just after Arin had woken up and then he’d helped her get ready for the day too, allowing her to eat her breakfast in front of the television as he tried to swallow down his bowl of porridge too. It tasted like cardboard – but then again, it might have been his cooking. Misook usually made the food around her, when he wasn’t dining out or ordering take out of course.

Arin had noticed his strange mood straight away. Obviously.

“Daddy, what’s wrong with you this morning?” She’d asked, looking over at him warily before hesitating. “I am spending the weekend with mom, right?”

“Of course you are, sweetie” he’d rushed, shaking away the surge of anger he’d felt. It pained him to know she was always expecting the worst lately. “Your mom just text me to say Jia is on her way.”

She’d smiled then, her face lighting up and he couldn’t help but match it, his nerves disappearing for a while. That was until he was left all alone, the house now empty and silent. He eyed the bottle of whiskey on the kitchen counter (where he’d left it after his small nightcap last night) and shook his head. He should drop you a text, just to check in and see if you were still on for tonight. He needed to find out what time to pick you up anyway. He probably should have messaged you the day before, he panicked suddenly, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth as he pulled his phone from his sweatpants pocket. Oh well, there was no time for regrets, that’s what his father always said.

It took him at least ten minutes to figure out what to say. His first draft sounded too cheerful, too false, he was trying way too hard and had added an examination point. His second was too formal, fifteen years of sending business emails back and forth obvious. He settled on something in the middle – he hoped.

Unknown (9:32am) Hi Y/N, It’s Kim Seokjin, Arin’s father. Just wondering if you still want to have dinner tonight? If so, please let me know and I will send through the restaurant details. We can decide on a time for me to pick you up. Regards, Seokjin

Only, reading it back after he hit send he began to second guess himself. Of course you knew who he was, his confidence might be lacking a little right now but he knew he wasn’t totally forgettable. What an idiot. Not that he could do much, there was no turning back. He’d committed.

He busied himself with a bit of Saturday morning cleaning while he waited for your reply, and by that he meant straightening up the pillows he and Arin had been sitting against earlier. When he returned to the kitchen, your message was waiting for him.

You (9:43am) Of course, send the details. I trust your taste!

See, exclamation points suited you. It was cute. He could just imagine you saying it in person, your dazzling smile, maybe that little giggle you’d made a few times on Wednesday. He felt something warm in his chest as he got lost in his thoughts, nerves easing once again. You were excited for tonight, he told himself. Maybe you were even just as nervous as him possibly…

He spent yet another few minutes composing his reply. A lot more casual this time, signing off with just his name. He didn’t always text like this, Namjoon could vouch for him, but he didn’t think you were both quite there yet. He wanted to show his best self after all. He wanted to impress you. He wanted to make you like him as much as he liked you.

Seokjin (9:50am) The sudden pressure… The restaurant’s name is KIM. I hope you like it. Is 7 alright to pick you up? I made reservations for 7:30. Seokjin

In truth, this restaurant was one he co-owned with his brother. Seokchul was the executive chef and they were both very proud of how successful their business venture had become. He knew taking you to such a place might seem like a cop-out – or worse, a brag – but that wasn’t the case at all. He wanted to treat you in a place that meant a lot to him. He could have chosen multiple restaurants, he was a regular at quite a few and could easily get a great table, but see, that did seem like he was showing off and he did not want to give you that impression at all. It was the complete opposite of his personality. KIM was a good choice, he was sure of it, and it helped that his brother didn’t work weekends, so there was no risk of bumping into him. Although, he had let him know about the date (and had begged him not to spill to their mother).

You (9:52am) I will. 7 sounds perfect. I’ll send through my address. See you later!

You followed up with a Google Maps link to your home, and he sent a quick thank you – sans his name this time. With a quick sigh he pocketed his phone again, it was time to get on with his day. He had some paperwork from yesterday to complete by Monday morning so he should probably make a start. He stopped to order a light lunch at midday, ate it as he scrolled through his very limited social media before getting back to it.

He called it a day around 3pm, a call from his mom interrupting his flow. He spent an hour talking, their weekend phone calls were habitual by now and he enjoyed them immensely. He loved his father of course, but their conversations mostly revolved around work. Despite stepping down as CEO three years ago, he was still a vital member of the company, and Seokjin continued to consult him at every opportunity and lean on him for support when things got stressful. With his mom, she was the woman he could still be a kid around. They could talk about anything and everything, but for her own benefit he left out his plans for tonight. He knew what she was like, she’d get way too excited and overwhelmed and before long she’d be sobbing down the line while simultaneously asking to meet you. She’d been wanting him to meet someone new for so long, much like Mrs. Shin. It was a surprise the two women weren’t conspiring behind his back.

No, he’d keep it a secret for now. If things went well tonight, then possibly his mother would get to find out. He wasn’t getting his hopes up though – or at least he was trying not to.

It was just after four when he got off the phone, too early to start getting ready just yet, so he sat in front of the television and tried to concentrate on a series he’d recently started. (It wasn’t going well. He was on about one episode a week out of a nine season TV show.) It was no use though, the nerves were rearing their ugly head again.

He decided to choose his outfit. Seokjin wasn’t much of a thinker when it came to fashion, he just grabbed whatever he saw first that morning, but tonight he wanted to at least put some effort in. After much deliberation he decided on a navy two piece paired with a white dress shirt. It wasn’t over the top, he thought, but nice enough to make that impression that was so very important to him. He kept his hair simple. He’d managed to squeeze in a haircut yesterday so it made things easier, but upon closer inspection in the mirror he noticed those pesky grey hairs of his glittering in the sunlight. He grimaced, worried now. He didn’t know your exact age yet, but it was obvious he was a few years older than you. He was no spring chicken, especially with those wrinkles around his eyes. He had been called handsome all his life, no stranger to it, but right now he was dubious.

He pushed his trivial concerns away and concentrated on the next decision. What car he would take. He didn’t want to go too flash – again with the showing off thing – so the Aston Martin was definitely off the cards. He hadn’t actually driven that one much, going through some sort of so-called midlife crisis when he’d bought it straight after his divorce, so he made a mental note to take it out next weekend. He decided on the Mercedes convertible (roof on, of course). It seemed like a suitable choice, not too flashy at all really. He didn’t want to run the risk of putting you off him or overwhelming you with showy displays. He was well aware of the differences between your lifestyles, not that he cared at all, but it didn’t stop him from understanding. The things that seemed slight to him could very well be enormous for you. He didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable in any way, shape or form.

Shit, on second thoughts maybe his restaurant was a bad idea…

Seokjin was always punctual, he prided himself on it, but tonight it made him nervous. He’d said 7 but it had only just gone quarter to. He couldn’t very well stay in the car for fifteen minutes, you’d spot him out the window, so ever so slowly he opened his car door and stepped out, his heart thudding against his ribcage. He was sure he noticed his hand shaking as he closed it behind him. He was such a mess it was embarrassing.

You lived in a nice little neighbourhood, it seemed quiet, and he admired your pots of flowers in the patch of garden you had as he made his way up the path that led to your front door. He took a deep breath before ringing the doorbell, adjusting his suit jacket as he waited for you to open up. It’s fine, Seokjin, he told himself. It’s just dinner. You’ve done much scarier things in your life. Pull yourself together, man.

A few seconds later the door opened in front of him and you came into view, looking as beautiful as ever. I’m fucked, he thought immediately.

“Hi,“ he forced himself to say as he smiled. He was probably staring but he couldn’t help himself. You looked stunning, your dress deep red in colour and incredibly flattering. His throat felt dry and he swallowed quickly.

“Hey,” you greeted back.

“You look beautiful,“ he couldn’t help but awe, hoping he wasn’t stepping out of line with his compliment.

"Thank you,” you smiled almost shyly. It was adorable. “You look…really good.“

He couldn’t help but burst out laughing at that, aware the sound was probably highly unfaltering, but he couldn’t help it. "I’ll take it. Thanks.” He tilted his head to the right then, composing himself. “Are you ready to go? I’m a bit early, I know. Sorry about that."

He really couldn’t tear himself away from your beauty, but luckily you didn’t seem to notice, busy nodding as you clutched your purse to your side. "I, uh… I would invite you in to kill time but my best friend’s embarrassing.” Your voice raised as you continued, your head turning slightly down the hallway.

He raised an eyebrow, a little confused, but he guessed said best friend was in the house somewhere? He smiled and shook his head. “It’s fine.”

As you stepped forward, a breath of a chuckle slipping from your throat, he moved to the side, outstretching his arm to let you lead the way. You accepted with a brief nod of your head, your gazes catching for a split second. God, you were gorgeous.

His nerves might have eased a tad, but his heart was still beating just as fast – if not more.

Written 2020 - 2021. Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2021

#seokjin fanfic #bts fanfic #mls:drabbles #fic:mls #floralseokjin:writings

144 notes · View notes

diaryofabeautyfiend · 3 years

Text

This is two parts because I got carried away. I wrote this on my phone and proof read as much as I could.

Warnings: cheating, male masturbation, m/f sex, minor spoilers for “Defending Jacob”.

——————————————————————————————

Plain Gold Ring

“Plain gold ring on his finger he wore

It was where everyone could see

He belonged to someone, but not me

On his hand was a plain gold ring”

-Nina Simone

When the Barbers moved to your building every old bitty in the place was buzzing with excitement. You had loosely followed Jacob Barber’s case as it played out on the evening news. The whole thing was bizarrely too neat and tidy for your liking. You tried to stay out of idle gossip as much as possible. But, when you heard Andy Barber was interviewing for a senior position at your firm, you had questions.

Andy was brought in to interview for a position that you were also interested in. You requested a meeting with your boss and you went in guns blazing. Your poor boss was not ready for all the excitement.

“Am I still being considered for junior partner?”

“Y/n, calm down.” When he saw you winding yourself up, he popped an antacid an a few ibuprofen.

“Calm down? Calm down he says. I’ve been with this firm since I clerked for you in Law school, Stan. I’m the best fit for this role and you know it.”

“I know you are, kid. I’ve been out voted.”

It’s common knowledge that the partners don’t want too many women gunning for their jobs. They already have one token female partner. They didn’t feel the need to add another. You were infuriated. You stomped back to your office and slammed the door.

All of the work you put in. All of the late nights. You don’t have time to even date. And all for what? You had to calm down now because you were starting to cry out of sheer frustration. You took a deep breath and started going through your to do list. With a relatively light schedule you decided to leave for the day. You mumbled something to your assistant about a doctors appointment and headed for the elevator.

You saw some of the senior partners headed your way shaking hands with Andy. You pressed the elevator button furiously trying to avoid them. Could you make it down seventeen flights of stairs in your stilettos? The elevator dinged and you jumped on just as Robert called your name.

As soon as you put your car in gear, your assistant called. You sent her to voicemail. She called again. Declined. Finally she texted call me back ASAP. Emergency. Fuck.

“Caitlan I said I had an appointment. What’s the emergency?”

“Sorry. Mr. Cramer insisted I call. He’s standing by my desk” she whispered. “They want you to have lunch with them today. Maybe it’s about the job.”

“Did you see guy shaking hands with them? That’s the new junior partner. They are asking me to lunch to reject me. Fuck! Where?” You rested your head against the steering wheel.

“Commander’s at 1:00.”

“Fine.” you groaned.

You went home to freshen up and send out your updated resume. You made sure to include “Willing to relocate” at the end to broaden your prospects. You had a friend in Chicago who worked for a very high profile firm. They were always looking for new blood. You shot her a text to let her know you were looking then emailed your resume. The prospect of starting over completely made you nauseous. You would have to go through the ranks and probably waist another five years to get exactly where you were right now.

When you arrived at the restaurant the maître d brought you to the table where Stan, several other senior partners and Andy were waiting. Andy stood up to pull out your chair.

“Gentleman. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Sit down, Y/N. We wanted to introduce you to Andrew Barber.”

“Andy. Please call me Andy. It’s very nice to meet you, Y/N. These guys haven’t stopped talking about you all morning.”

“All good things I hope.” The men laughed and ordered a round of martinis. Good thing you ate a big lunch at home. No one likes a sloppy drunk girl.

“Yes. Well, Y/N, as you may not know Andy has accepted the junior partner position. We would love if you brought him up to speed on anything you’re working on and show him the ropes.”

You were seething. “Of course Mr. Cramer. Happy to.”

“Oh. Good. Let’s order huh? I’m starving.”

You were silent for the rest of lunch ordering two more martinis very dry and a salad. Dressing on the side of course. The men spoke loudly and never even tried to include you in the conversation. You excused yourself to use the restroom. Andy, ever the gentleman, stood up at the same time.

You didn’t go back. Not that it would have mattered. You ordered an Uber and checked your email. You didn’t notice Andy at the valet stand.

“I’m headed back to the office. Need a ride?” he called to you.

“No. I’m good. Thanks though.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind.” He watched you pace back and forth reading a message almost out loud.

You didn’t look up from your phone. “Shit.” You scowled looking at the screen. You dialed Caitlan’s extension. “Caitlan, Sloan Treadaway’s deposition was moved to today. I need it pushed to Monday.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. I figured you would be coming back so I told them it was ok to push it up. I can call them back.”

“No. Don’t bother. I’m on my way back.”

“Looks like you can use a ride after all.” Andy was grinning from ear to ear.

He held the door and rushed around to the other side. You pulled a small bag out of your purse. You freshened your hair, popped some breath mints, lotioned and spritzed away the smell of booze. Andy thought this must be commonplace for you. It’s not easy trying to run with the guys. He could walk into this deposition piss drunk and most people wouldn’t care. You had to be perfect. He always hated that aspect of working in a big firm like this.

“Sorry. I’ll pay to have your car cleaned.” It smelled like you now. Expensive perfume and minty breath. Sweet but not sickly so. He inhaled letting his nostrils flair breathing you in. “Don’t want your wife to be pissed.”

“Lori? Don’t worry about her. She’ll understand.”

“How is she doing with her job search?”

“Doing ok. Thanks for asking. She’s interviewed with a few places.”

“She worked for a non profit right?” When he looked at you quizzically, you quickly explained yourself. “I hear things. Anyway. I know the director of a non profit organization that might be a great fit for her. I’ll pass along her information.”

“Thank you, Y/N. I really appreciate it. Stan told me you were the front runner for this position. I know how hard it is for women in this industry. I want to say how sorry I am…”

“Let me stop you there. First of all, don’t be sorry. You’re high profile and a damn good litigator. They would be stupid not to offer you the moon. You’re over qualified for this job. You didn’t come here gunning for me. I’ll be fine. Besides, a few of these old bags have one foot in the grave. It won’t be long for me.”

Andy smiled at you but still kind of felt like shit at the way the firm treated you. When you pulled into the garage you offered a quick thanks and rushed into the building to prepare.

Andy stayed behind for a bit. He spent a few precious moments breathing in your scent, letting it linger and wash over him. He hoped his clothes would smell a little like you. Stan said you were a “fire cracker”. Andy always hated that analogy. He knew by the way the group of men talked about you that he would like you. Your quick banter in the car confirmed it. Throughout the rest of the day you would invade his thoughts. He and Lori were still married but their relationship was long over. You had excited him more in a couple of hours than she had in years. When he got home he didn’t eat dinner or speak to anyone. He went right to his room where he replayed your exchange over and over. The ghost of your perfume lingered on his shirt. Both of your scents mixed together gave him a raging hard on. He kept your shirt over his face while he fisted his cock.

——————————————————————

The next morning you decided to face the day with a fresher attitude. Sometime yesterday you heard from your friend. She was thrilled that you reached out to her. She has been trying to get you out there for a while. Knowing that you had a solid backup plan was giving your hair volume and clearing your skin.

You thought you were early but Andy was already in your office waiting for you.

“Morning, Mr. Barber.” God he loved how you said that.

He scoffed, “Andy. Please. I brought you a coffee. I hope it’s ok. I got your order from Caitlan. I thought we’d order in lunch today. We have a lot of ground to cover. You should probably let your family know you’ll be missing dinner.”

“I don’t think my dead ficus will worry too much.” Your tone was dry.

“I apologize for the assumption.”

“Not necessary. Though my mother and my therapist would both be pleased to know that I look like someone who could have a family.”

You were funny. You seemed to say whatever thought popped into your head. You had one hell of a poker face though. He didn’t know if you were trying to be funny or if this was just you. When you didn’t look up from your computer screen he didn’t laugh.

As the day wore on you warmed up to him a little. You filled him in on the three big cases you were working on. You were actually going to trial on a very important case soon. He insisted you rehearse your opening statement a hundred times.

During the third run through Andy’s phone was blowing up. He finally turned it off and told you to keep going. He watched you pace around the room and coached you on your stance. “Stand with authority not arrogance.” He chided. He showed you himself then, asked if he could touch your shoulders. “Round them out like this. Good. Back straight. See?” he pointed to your reflection in the window, “It’s not menacing or arrogant. But you look like you’re in charge. You look perfect.” Hell. Was he flirting with you? By the time you looked at the clock it was 9:30.

“Fuck is that the time?” he said with a boisterous yawn.

“Shit. We should pick this up tomorrow.”

“Let’s go get a drink. I’m buying.”

You quirked your eyebrow, “I’m sure your wife and kiddo are dying to see you.”

He stacked some folders neatly on your desk and looked up at you through his lashes, “I’ll be sure to tell my therapist that I look like a guy who has a happy marriage and a good relationship with his kid.”

Your cheeks heated. The way he was looking at you made you sad but it also warmed your insides. “I’m sorry.” you mumbled.

“Don’t worry about it. We said we would stay together until Jacob went away to school. He pretends to ignore the fact that we have separate bedrooms. We put on happy faces everyday. We’re a typical American family.”

You laughed at his admission. His whole story was so fucked up. You wanted to know everything about him. “You know, I think I will let you buy me a drink.”

“Good girl.” he said in a low voice that went strait to your core. The whole way to the car you repeated a mantra in your head reminding you not to get involved with a married man. It didn’t matter how unhappy they were. But you wanted him. Every time he touched you, your insides would quake.

The bar was packed with regulars from the DA’s office and other firms. You introduced Andy around. The guy was a legitimate pro. He was so smooth working the room. The whole time he kept finding small ways to touch you. The brush of his fingers on your arm his breath against your ear when he asked if wanted another drink. Your heart nearly stopped. You stuck with him for a while until your feet couldn’t stand anymore. Every time he caught your eye from across the room he winked at you.

For the first time in a long time Andy was enjoying himself. Your friends were fun and not at all stuffy like he thought this crowd would be. You were adorable. Your laugh was cute. The way you brushed against him on purpose was cute. You were openly flirting with him the more you drank. He had a massive crush on you. What grown man has a crush these days. He thought maybe if he fucked you and got it out of his system he’d get over it.

Your friend Liz sat down at your table trying to talk to you for a solid minute before you noticed. “Sorry. I was distracted. What were you saying?” She threw her head back laughing at you.

“I said you two would make a gorgeous couple.”

“Stop. He’s married.”

“Happily?”

“That doesn’t matter. Married is married.”

“So that’s a no. He’s been eye fucking you all night. Shoot your shot, darling. We get so few in this life.” The light hit his wedding ring just right making you feel horrible for even entertaining the thought. Do not get involved. You kept chanting it in your head over and over until Andy slid in the booth next to you. He leaned over so he could talk over the din of the crowd.

“Hey, you. Wanna get out of here?”

“You don’t need to bring me home, Andy. I can catch an Uber.” That was such a ridiculous statement since you lived in the same building.

“That’s not what I asked. I said do you wanna get out of here?” His eyes were fixed on your mouth. A salacious grin splayed across his lips just knowing you’d give in.

“Andy. I….” You stuttered over your words. Your brain stopped working when you felt his warm breath on the shell of your ear. “Let’s get out of here.” Your breath hitched in your chest when he touched the small of your back. He payed his tab and lead you out of the bar.

You held hands in the car. His thumb rhythmically traced patterns on your knuckles. Every touch sent bolts of arousal to your aching cunt. It felt electric. You were ready to crawl into his lap by the time you made it into the garage. He parked in his spot and followed behind you to the elevator. You lived two floors below him. You glanced back at Lori’s sensible suv next to his car and felt embarrassed. He caught you looking and stopped you in your tracks. He took your chin in between his thumb and index finger forcing you to look at him.

“I understand if you don’t want to invite me in. I’m asking a lot of you. But I really like you, Y/N. You are funny and intimidatingly smart. And, fuck me, you are fucking stunning. I can go to work tomorrow like nothing happened. Don’t worry about Lori. Worry about what this means working together. Can you handle this?”

Your brain was no longer working and deferred to your pussy for any and all further decisions. You had not had even mediocre sex in six months. You just knew Andy was going to blow your mind. All day you have been working together so well. You challenged each other and he encouraged you when you faltered. Would this change the dynamic at work? Absolutely. Could you handle it? You’re damn right you could.

“I can handle it.”

“Good girl.” You all but sprinted to the elevator. He wouldn’t touch you until you actually got inside of your apartment and closed the door. When you did, he pushed against you and covered your lips with his.

You tasted the golden flavor of beer on his tongue as it probed your mouth. He unbuttoned your blouse and pushed it over your shoulders letting it hit the floor. He kissed his way down the column of your neck to the swell of your breasts. You panted underneath him raking your nails through his hair.

“God you smell incredible. At any point if you don’t want this….”

“Andy, shut up and fuck me.” He growled low in his throat before he picked you up and carried you to your bedroom. You could see how hard he was through his impeccably tailored slacks. You unzipped his fly and took the whole throbbing appendage in your mouth.

“Fuck, baby yes.” he hissed. You relaxed your throat muscles and swallowed him deeper. “You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth.” He moaned your name over and over soaking your panties. “Stop, honey. Let me see that pretty pussy.”

He eased you down onto the bed and undressed you painfully slow. It had been so long since he was intimate with someone, he wanted to take his time. He started with your feet removing your heels and massaging your insteps. His hands ran up the length of your legs to your skirt. He took off your panties first letting the skirt material pool around your waist. “So wet for me. So beautiful.” He slipped two fingers in between your folds hitting everywhere but your clit. He built up a tortuous rhythm that had you begging for relief. He smiled down at you watching completely fall apart. When he dipped his fingers inside of you, you were done. Your orgasm spilled out in one glorious cry. Before you could catch your breath he pulled off your skirt and unhooked your bra. His cock was weeping at the sight of you. A large hand held the back of your neck holding your head in place so you could look at him. Your eyes locked as he buried himself inside of you. There were no more words as he moved inside of you. Only breathless moans and sighs would escape your lips. He increased his pace and your orgasm started building again.

“Fuck. Andy, I’m….fuck!”

“I’m with you, honey. Come with me.” His words were your undoing. You latched your whole body onto him. He held you tight whispering praises in your ear. He kissed you slow and deep easing you back down to Earth. “You ok?”

“I think so.” You both laughed at the sight of yourselves. Sweat glistening off of your skin, lips puffy and kiss swollen. He eased off of you and rubbed your thighs to relax you. You thought he would get dressed and rush out but he crawled under the covers instead.

“Can I stay for a while?” Big arms pulled you down to his chest. He stroked your back softly to help you drift off to sleep.

“I’d like it if you did.” He pressed a kiss onto the top of your head and let his eyes flutter closed.

When dawn found you a few hours later, you were still tangled with each other. You jolted awake panicking because Andy was still in your bed. “Andy, wake up. You stayed all night.”

“I know. What time is it?”

“6:45.”

“Then we have time. Go back to sleep.”

“But Lori…”

“I told you not to worry about her. Get back on this pillow and let me hold you. Please.” The poor guy was so touch starved you guessed. Andy Barber was not a man who did well being single. He loved being in love. He longed for a connection. For passion. He knew those things would sometimes fizzle out of a marriage. But, with you, he couldn’t see that. Your fire matched his fire and Lori was the wet blanket that always snuffed him out.

He supposed that wasn’t really fair. Two people were in their marriage. He worked long hours and spent very little time doing anything but being an ADA and being a dad. He didn’t give the same dedication to being Lori’s partner. The stress of this past year pushed them further apart. He felt obligated to be with her. It was his idea to stay together for Jacob’s sake. He regretted pushing for it.

He pulled you close to his body and wrapped an arm around your waist. He nuzzled your hair and fell back to sleep. You did too.

#andy barber #andy barber x y/n #andy barber smut #defending jacob

80 notes · View notes

princecharmingwinks · 4 years

Text

Sterek Fic Rec - October 2020. Although this is meant to be halloween month, I somehow didn’t read many themed fics. I think this might be because its not such a big holiday for Aus. So I am sorry for any who were wanting a fully themed fic list. I’ll try better for December.

happy accident by haleofStilesheart (1/1 | 4,118 | Explicit)

He was about to send another message when he realized that autocorrect had royally fucked him over by changing your pick to your dick.

Or in which Stiles' typo about dinner turns into an unexpected blow job.

Sideways and Slantways and Longways and Backways by hologramophone (1/1 | 7,799 | Teen)

“I called you a slave-driver!” Stiles cried hysterically. “I called you an ogre! I stole all the blue paperclips!” Derek raised an eyebrow at him. “That’s company property!” he shouted, waving his arms madly in distress. Derek ran a hand over his face. “It’s not theft if the vice president of the company gives you permission.” (Otherwise known as the Elevator AU)

accidentally? by bibliosexual (1/1 | 3,683 | Mature)

BOSS: “know why I called you in here?” ME: “because I accidentally sent you a dick pic” BOSS [stops pouring 2 glasses of wine]: “accidentally?”

yup.

Or, in which Derek receives a surprising email one morning.

Bite Down Hard by orphan_account (sadface) (1/1 | 25,730 | Explicit)

For a moment, Derek can’t breathe.

Because moles aren’t the only thing marring the pale skin of Stiles’ neck. Oh no, that’s –

– that’s a bond bite. A bond bite which Stiles definitely did not have yesterday, and which appears to have roughly the same dimensions as Derek’s own mouth.

Shit.

(Or: In which Secret Service Agent Derek Hale accidentally gets bonded to First Son Stiles Stilinski. Oops.)

What the Hell is a Stiles? by TheRealDanniX (1/1 | 4,901 | Not Rated)

A witch takes Stiles' memory while he's on the job and Derek gets stuck babysitting. Not that he really minds. In fact, it may be just what he needs.

Shirts Are For Quitters by 42hrb (1/1 | 1,165 | Teen)

Stiles will never understand why Derek seems to be allergic to wearing shirts, but it kinda feels like Derek's trying to rub in how perfect his body is.

Where In the World is Derek Hale? by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella) (1/1 | 5,968 | General)

It had been four days.

Four days since the incident. And he hadn’t heard from Derek once since then.

They’d been out fighting the most recent big bad, because Beacon Hills was a fucking magnet for bad things coming to town. They’d been in the middle of the fight, and Derek had told Stiles to run, which he hadn’t, because fuck you Derek Hale. So he hadn’t run, which ended up being a good thing, because he ended up saving Derek’s life.

When they’d won, the two of them dirty and panting, Derek had rounded on him and proceeded to shout at him for being stupid and reckless. Stiles had screamed back, and it had basically been a giant back and forth shouting match before Stiles had blurted out, “Because I fucking love your dumb, stupid face you idiot!” and had proceeded to kiss said idiot's dumb, stupid face.

Kiss Me Hard (Before You Go) by whenshewrites (1/1 | 5,348 | Teen)

Five times Stiles kisses Derek and the one time Derek kisses him back.

Unofficial Deputy Stiles Stilinski by elliot_edison (1/1 | 3,483 | Teen)

In which Derek gets arrested by Sheriff Stilinski for public nudity, unofficial deputy Stiles handles the intake paperwork over the phone in an inappropriate manner, and the Sheriff plays wingman to two pining teenagers.

DILF by twentysomething (1/1 | 30,871 | Explicit)

"Today is Scott's first day of kindergarten and Derek is terrified."

I'm Your Boogie Man by Jmeelee (1/1 | 4,097 | Mature)

Five times Derek and Stiles ended up accidentally wearing couples costumes on Halloween, and the one Halloween they ended up a couple.

princecharmingwinks special mention (this fic gave me so many feels. beware of the feels! and the writing is just gorgeous!)

Catching Your Breath (in seven simple steps) by circa (stealthturtle) (2/2 | 29,508 | Explicit)

It's the way Stiles slips out from the loft like a cheap fuck leaving before sunrise could damn him; the way they avoid each other's eyes at pack meetings and the constant thrice fold-showering before he could rub the smell of Derek out of his skin. But sometimes he feels like this is all he'll ever want to know: the thrill of being shoved in-between places like he's a well-kept secret, the constant precariousness of the line they're treading. He likes to think his heart was an acrobat, his sanity the balancing act.

And there is Derek, holding the other end of the tightrope that's keeping him afloat.

Happy October one and all. See you next month. Can you believe we are almost at the end of this crazy year? Please spread the word if you love these works. All the love to the amazing authors on this list and all fic writers in general <3 Happy reading!

#Sterek #fanfiction #fic rec #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #derek hale #princecharminglists

158 notes · View notes

p-artsypants · 3 years

Text

The Ghost of Smokey Joe (5)

Nightmare

No lyrics in this chapter, because the song in the title has no words. But it really embodies everything I wanted to say with the chapter.

Also, ALL ABOARD THE ANGST TRAIN CHOO CHOOOOOO

Ao3 | FF.net

—

“Do you have those drafts ready for the meeting?” Asked Marinette, peering into her co-worker’s office, a very peppy woman named Jill.

“Of course! I’ve gotten them matted, just like you asked. 10, right?”

“Yes! Thank God someone is doing their job right today.”

“Oh, Marinette, where are your shoes?”

Marinette looked down to her bare feet. “Oh, I wore pumps that are great for working at my desk and walking to the water cooler, but they got kicked off somewhere around 9 this morning.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Have you seen Tim? He’s fixing the sizing sheet and I can’t find him anywhere!”

“Did you try his office?”

Marinette’s jaw dropped. “Tim has an office?! Since when?”

“Since always? Are you okay? You look like you could use a nap…or at least a cup of coffee.”

Marinette groaned. “No naps! No more coffee! My heart is just a hum now anyway! I haven’t been able to sleep the last few days and last night I didn’t sleep at all. I got this weird phone call—“ she stopped herself before she said too much. “Anyway, yes, Tim does have an office. I forgot.”

“And he’s always so good at emails, you never need to talk to him. I know. We had this same conversation last week.”

Marinette groaned again as she covered her face in shame. “Why is Mr. Agreste doing this to me?”

“Speaking of Mr. Agreste, have you gotten any answers from him today? I’ve sent three emails and he’s not responding at all. Apparently Tim’s having the same problem with Adrien.”

“I haven’t heard a thing from the manor. Not Gabriel, not Adrien, not even Nathalie. We’re supposed to have a meeting at 2, but I haven’t heard if that’s still on.”

“Doesn’t Adrien usually come into the office on meeting days?”

“He did…I don’t know what's up with him. He was being super cagey with me yesterday when I went to talk to him.” She sighed, hunching her shoulders. “I’m worried.” She didn’t disclose the truth of the conversation, that Adrien had effectively ended their friendship. It was too painful, but too fresh to ignore.

“I’ve been working here since Emilie was still around. Gabriel went through a huge personality shift when she disappeared. Maybe Adrien takes after his dad? Maybe something happened?”

“Ugh, don’t talk like that, I’ll just worry more!” An alert beeped from her phone, letting her know she had an email. “Ah! An intern’s job is never done! See you later!”

“Good luck, Marinette!” Jill called. After she left, she added, “you’re going to need it.”

At two o’clock, the department heads and designers all came together in the conference room. Marinette set up her laptop to the screen and had the presentation open, as well as the Skype call to Gabriel.

He had yet to join the session, but it was still a few minutes before the meeting officially began.

“I see you’re wearing shoes now,” said Jill.

“I don’t know if I could handle the ridicule from Mr. Agreste if he saw me bare foot in the conference room.” Marinette chuckled weakly.

“As if Gabriel would ever reprimand you,” said someone else. “He adores you.”

“That must be why he took a vacation and told no one,” she laughed again. Was her filter fading with all this sleep deprivation? Probably.

Finally, the call started, but Nathalie took the helm instead.

Before questions could be asked, she announced, “I’m afraid this meeting must be postponed.” No ‘hello’, no ‘thank you for your patience and hard work’. It was enough to make Marinette snap in all of her exhaustion and emotional turmoil.

“Nathalie, with all due respect, everyone is here and ready to go. Why isn’t Gabriel ready?” She huffed.

Nathalie glanced away from the camera, a tell that she was about to deliver a great blow. “Mr. Agreste is deceased.”

The room went silent. Someone dropped a pen.

Marinette fell into a chair, feeling like the ground was shaking under her.

“Early this morning, both Gabriel and Adrien passed away. A joint visitation and funeral will be held at the manor on Friday evening and Saturday morning, respectively. Everyone is invited, but it’s not mandatory, of course.”

Marinette couldn’t swallow the lump in her throat; it was so thick.

“The fall line will not be released this season. Two weeks paid vacation will be passed on as we prepare the new head designer to take Gabriel’s place.”

Someone asked, “Who is the new designer?”

Most heads looked to Marinette, knowing the answer.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng has been determined to be the new head designer.”

She sputtered out of her shock. “What? Me?! No! Surely not! I’m just an intern!”

“Intern to the head designer,” someone clarified. “We all knew you were going to be hired as his assistant soon. It was obvious.”

“But—but—“ she stammered. It was rather obvious, thinking about it. Gabriel was just waiting for her to secure that college degree to make it official. “I can’t! I just—“ Without any preamble, tears burst forth and rolled down her face.

Adrien was gone.

Her best friend. The love of her life. Without a goodbye, and on such horrible terms.

Screw the responsibilities, the job title didn’t matter. She didn’t care at all.

Several arms wrapped around her, her coworkers, her friends, comforting as best as they could.

“No one is expecting you to jump right in,” Nathalie explained. “You were quite close to both of them.”

“What about you?” Marinette rasped out.

“I had my moment earlier. I’m in business mode now. If anyone would like more details, please reach me privately.”

And she left. Like a whirlwind, leaving destruction in her path.

“Can you get home on your own?” Someone asked Marinette.

She thought she confirmed affirmative, but someone led her from the room with an arm around the shoulder. Maybe it was Tim. She didn’t really know. She didn’t really care.

When she arrived home, she dropped her purse on the floor. Where were her other bags? At the office? Oh well, didn’t matter now.

Nothing mattered anymore.

“Girl, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Alya and Nino were home, they were here and alive, and they didn’t know.

They didn’t know and she had to tell them.

“He’s gone,” She whispered.

“Who?” Asked Alya, resting a comforting hand on her arm.

“Adrien…he—he’s dead.”

“…what?” Nino squeaked out. “H-how? Why?”

“I don’t know…he and Gabriel—“ she stopped and flexed her hand. Her phone was still in her hand. It held answers.

She called Nathalie on video.

“Hello Marinette. I’m glad to see you made it home safe. I was worried.”

“What happened?” She blurted. “Nino and Alya know that he died. What happened?” Because there had to be a reasonable explanation.

Nathalie’s face morphed from serious business to pain and pity. “Are you sure you want to know?”

God, with a preamble like that, it couldn’t be good. Not painless like Carbon monoxide poisoning in their sleep, and not instant like a car accident.

“Please Nathalie, I have to know.”

She breathed shakily and admitted, “it was a murder-suicide, as enacted by Adrien. He first stabbed Gabriel, and then himself.”

“Augh!” Marinette sobbed out. It was an ugly sound that couldn’t be controlled or silenced.

“I’m sorry. I wish I could lie…but I can’t. Adrien had been acting strange lately…I think Gabriel knew this was going to happen.”

“No! You’re lying!” Marinette yelled. “Adrien loved his father! He would never—he’s not like that!”

“Marinette, I saw them. Adrien was obviously deeply disturbed.”

“SHUT UP!!” She ended the call and dropped the phone on the floor.

Then she looked to her friends, who were both bawling like her. Nino moved first and pulled her into a tight hug. Alya came around the other side, crushing her in a Marinette-sandwich.

“You’re right, he wouldn’t do that.” Alya offered. “But they’re both gone, so we can’t prove anything.”

“If Nathalie didn’t tell the office, then the truth might never come out,” Said Nino, nodding in reassurance. “Only the four of us will have any idea.”

After a long time, numbness started to set in. There was a degree of disbelief in her still, where she may have heard it, but she didn’t see it.

That left room for doubt.

Without a word, she took her phone from the floor and wandered back to her room.

After the door closed, Tikki appeared. “Marinette…”

But she wasn’t listening. She was staring at her phone screen, like she was trying to solve a puzzle.

Then she started a call.

It rang and rang and rang and rang…

“Hey there, it’s Adrien, I’m not available to answer right now. But leave me a message or shoot me a text, and I’ll get back to you. Hope you have a great day!”

The phone beeped.

“Adrien,” she sobbed. “Adrien I know—goddamnit this sucks. I’m too late. I love you so much, and I’m too late. I wish I told you sooner. Even last night when you called—I’m sorry I didn’t know you were struggling. I’m sorry I didn’t know how to help you. I loved you so much and I couldn’t save you and I’m so sorry…”

“Marinette…” Tikki tried to tell her to stop.

“This is the closest I could get to telling you. And you’ll never hear it and—“

The phone beeped again, signaling the end of the recording.

She saved it, and set the phone down.

“Marinette…”

“What is it, Tikki? What’s so important?”

“I have to tell you something…but it’s really really bad.”

“Well, hit me with it. Today is literally the worst day of my life.”

“Adrien…well, he was Chat Noir.”

As if the day couldn’t get any worse.

“What?”

“Chat Noir. He was Adrien.”

“But—but he can’t be. You must be confused.”

“Marinette, he literally wore the earrings before.”

“I KNOW!” She screamed. “But you have to tell me he's someone else! Because I can’t lose both of them! I can’t do it Tikki!”

“I know it hurts. You two were literally soul mates. The Ladybug and Black Cat always are.”

“You’re not helping!” She sobbed.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

Tikki allowed Marinette to sob for a while, letting her anguish spill out of her. Tikki just kept watch for the Akuma that never came.

“You know what you have to do next, right?” Asked Tikki.

“What?”

She sighed. “You have to go to the visitation and take back the ring.”

“I can’t do that!” Marinette cried, horrified. “I can’t! There’s no way!”

“We’ll he can’t be buried with it. You have to, Marinette.”

Marinette crawled into bed, still fully clothed and wept and wept and wept until her tears burned her cheeks and exhaustion took hold.

All the chapter titles are songs from my spooky halloween playlist that inspired this fic (and their lyrics will be in the chapters)! You can find that playlist here. The playlist will be updated as the fic goes on.

#ml #miraculous ladybug #fanfiction #the ghost of Smokey Joe #adrienette #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #chat noir #ladybug

14 notes · View notes

beingdreeyore · 3 years

Text

I called in sick today. Four nights of no sleep meant I just didn't have it in me.

The house we lived in back in that little town is completely submerged. Where once there were houses, there is now a raging river. For several blocks the water is so deep that you can't see even a single sliver of rooftop. Friends from that town lost their homes and all their possessions yesterday. The physio tells me he is safe, his property dry, but his practice was very near our house and so is completely destroyed.

The rainfall is moving south and the other two towns I worked in are either underwater or preparing to go under. I think of that voice on the phone from the early hours of Saturday morning and find myself praying it doesn't move so far south as to hit the town where his family live. His hometown. Hasn't their family been through enough without adding that to their pain? And then I caught myself, I'd prayed.

When was the last time I prayed? Do I even still believe? How desperate am I to protect him that I would resort to praying? It's been so long since God and I spoke anything other than angry words that I doubt he'd listen...

But I prayed.

I woke up knowing that I just needed to chat about everything with someone who would reserve judgement, someone who could see the grey area in it all, so I sent a text to my clinical psychologist asking if she had capacity today.

13 minutes later we were on a zoom call.

I talked to her about all the shame, the rejection, and the sense that I was being punished that has come up for me since he blocked my number. The confusion at not knowing what it was I'd done that had led him to take such drastic action. How I would respect his choice, even though it is painful as hell as it feels like being left by him again. It feels like I must have let him down spectacularly for him to take that step.

I told her how I had sent him an email though, no writing attached, just a screenshot of contact details he had asked for on that phone call. It had seemed genuinely important to him, so I'd sent them. I had gone back and forth on it, as I was worried he'd misinterpret it given he may not even remember that part of the conversation, but it still felt like I needed to honour his request. If I could do that, then I could respect his decision knowing I'd done what he asked of me. Otherwise if I didn't send them it would be just another way I'd let him down.

And I told her how confusing it was to have been happy he'd reached out. To have taken some sort of comfort in knowing that he'd known that even when I was hurting, I was still always prepared to hold space for him if he needed it. How proud I was of him that he'd gone to talk to someone about everything but how sad that I never got to tell him that. How disappointed that he'd reached to me for help but then shut me out so conclusively.

I told her how I wasn't angry with him for the rejection, just sad, because it all feels very messy right now. It feels like complicated grief. It feels like someone doing the best they can in some sort of noble way that only they understand. It feels like he needs people around him.

She validated me and told me it was okay to have been so relieved to hear his voice. That it was okay to feel a contentment in knowing that he'd reached for me. And okay to not be angry that he'd reached out, even when it got so messy over something so simple. Understandable to feel incredible sadness at the pain he must be in.

She told me a similar story about someone who had blocked her without a sign that's what was coming. How she'd been hurt but continued on with her life. Refusing to enter into a game of proving her love, if that's what it was. Months later he had contacted her and apologised, explaining that his motivation was that it was the only way he had known how to not contact her. That he'd seen it as a responsible thing to do; his way of protecting her. If she'd reached out to check on him, he wouldn't have been able to keep it as a brief interaction.

It made me wonder... Is that what he was doing? Did he block me because he knows he is still happier with her and he doesn't have those feelings for me? Or did he block me because of how easy it would be right now to accept my offer of an ear to listen and shoulder to cry on? How tempting to fall into the same old routine that came so easily to us? Was this some bizarre way of trying to honour me? But that makes no sense, because if his main priority is always me, then why would he pick the other girl? If he blocked me, it must be for her. The one who is the priority. That’s what I tell myself or the whole thing feels too unfair. It would be too unfair if he cared that much about me and it still wasn’t enough.

I feel more settled though. Less "crazy." More understanding of why being blocked led to such a massive internal explosion of emotions. I miss him. But I've been honouring his choice for four months now and I will continue to. It's bittersweet to realise that despite those four months of separation, my feelings for him haven't changed. He's still the first person I want to tell things to. And it all feels a lot harder now that I've been blocked, because it communicates so clearly how much he doesn't ever want to be that person for me.

2 notes · View notes

bomberqueen17 · 4 years

Text

hoo boy

so it’s not friday today, apparently

i made it through all of 2020 largely intact but now this is twice this year i’ve gone through more than half of a workday fully convinced it was a day of the week that it is not.

I’m perhaps under a bit of stress, methinks. And a very close friend spent much of the weekend blowing up my phone with stressed-out texts and emails, and on Tuesday or whichever day it was that I was off work dealing with car repairs and such, I spent more than an hour answering her as she had additional little breakdowns. And then my mother’s phone wasn’t working, so I spent another probably half an hour or more texting back and forth with her about it.

With the result that I had a great deal of trouble focusing on anything else, and accomplished very little of my own that day. And then the next day at work, I was all scattered-- I’m not blaming the people who needed stuff from me on Tuesday, I’m blaming unmedicated ADHD, and also whatever underlying stress made me miss February’s period so I’m currently finally on day 6 of heavy bleeding (after having literally lost sleep over my late period, which like, I don’t need that), and whatever, I’m just a fucking wreck, but

anyway, today is not Friday, the hellish Wednesday I spent not able to achieve anything was in fact only yesterday, that’s fantastic, because i had carefully counted out the food I had for this week and took the last of it today because I’m trying to clear the fridge out before we leave tomorr-- err, Saturday. fuck.

And this morning as I’m at work Dude texted me to nag me to get my state tax return for the accountant, and I said well I need information from previous years’ stuff which is in the folder on your desk, and he said i have it right here go ahead so i went ahead and asked him for the info i needed and forty-five minutes later he texts back with that info, so the site had timed out and crashed and

now the state department of taxation and finance simultaneously believes that I need to give them more info and also that I already have, so their website is an endless loop for me and there’s no way out of that, there’s no online help form only FAQ’s, and their phone tree is only for help filing taxes not getting an online account reset, so there’s nothing I can do there, so

I have lost my entire shit about this, and Dude was like “well then call the accountant and let him know you can’t get the info for him” and this has sent me into spates of howling rage and now I just don’t know how to go back to living as a normal person, since I have transcended this mortal plane and now am a being of pure unfiltered fury. IDK man, maybe don’t nag me to do stuff that needs your input when you’re not really available to give it?

Of course now I’m at fault because I’ve lost my temper, so welcome to the eternity of purgatory where I live as a non-valid entity without any kind of recourse for my wrath. *floats around*

It’s boring as hell here, and also, the NYS Dep’t of Tax and Finance should be abbreviated as the NYS DTF and they sure are, they’re down to fuck me specifically, which unfortunately is not what I wanted out of life.

I’ve informed Dude that I’m not paying my state taxes, then, and they can come collect me and put me in prison where I can finally rot in peace. This was of course an irrational thing to say, so I am heretofore canceled and will no longer be having normal human conversations in my own household.

So that’s the state of the me, I’m trying to collect myself enough to be a productive and functional human being not just for today but apparently also for tomorrow which is maybe the worst thing I’ve ever contemplated.

Also for some reason I’m really overinvested in the fate of the Ever Given. People are going to be hurt by this! I’m so upset that this boat is stuck in the goddamned Suez Canal about which I had never really thought before in my life? I don’t know why. I can’t stop obsessively checking up on it and at first it was light-hearted and funny like “ah what can you do” but now I’m just like, on the verge of tears as I contemplate how fucked everyone is and how the people whose fault it is are never the ones who pay the price. People will die over this, surely, and the memes are fun and all but it’s so upsetting for some reason.

Also I spent a little while very specifically daydreaming about hugging each one of my family members in turn, and I even encouraged myself to do this because I thought it would help, and then nearly broke myself vividly recollecting the last time I hugged my dad, so, that was fun. I’m obviously coping extremely well, and I thought I was going to get to see them tomorrow and now tomorrow isn’t tomorrow, so that’s fucking fantastic.

I’m doing fucking great.

(Heh, I sent a stressed-out email back to the friend I’d been counseling through her breakdown and she has not responded for several hours so likely, that was not a good direction to attempt to draw support from. Whoops. Guess I’ll feel guilty about that for a while, now!)

#personal #about the author #well now i can't go home because dude will be even more sullen at me than he has already been lately #and i can't do anything useful here #so maybe i'll just go cry in my car #of course i forgot a handkerchief #i always have one but not today #tw grief

26 notes · View notes

oh-so-scenarios · 4 years

Text

Loose Ends | two

⇢ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴀ ʟᴀsᴛɪɴɢ ɪᴍᴘʀᴇssɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ...ᴛᴏᴏ ʙᴀᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅɪᴅɴ'ᴛ sᴛɪᴄᴋ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴛᴏ sᴇᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀᴍᴀɢᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀᴜsᴇᴅ.

⇢ᴄᴇᴏ! ᴋɪᴍ ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ x ᴀᴅᴍɪɴ ᴀssɪsᴛᴀɴᴛ! ғᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴇx-ғɪᴀɴᴄᴇs!ᴀᴜ, ᴀɴɢsᴛ, ᴇɴᴇᴍɪᴇsᴛᴏʟᴏᴠᴇʀs

**A/N: There are errors! Please ignore them! This chapter is a little awkward(imo), but it’s just laying down the foundation but it will pick up. (Word Count: 4.9K)

Previous | Next ◀ ▶ Series Index | Masterlist

《 PAST 》

Y/N:

“So we’re partners?” I said, sitting down at the empty desk. I glanced over at the quiet boy sitting beside me. His head was down and he focused his attention on the black sheet of paper in front of him.

Maybe he was shy? I couldn’t be sure, but what I did know was that I wasn’t planning on slacking off.

They say your freshman year of high school will determine the rest of your years and I will not get off to a bad start. I was already a push-over in middle school, letting myself get tricked into doing all the work. But I am entering high school with a new confidence. I will keep my head high and speak up when I feel wronged.

“Your name is Namjoon right?” I called softly. I leaned over, trying to catch his eye. I knew he could hear me, seeing him side eye me momentarily. He finally lifts up his head and looks my way, showing a shy smile.

As I finally got a good look at him, I couldn’t help but smile. He has high cheekbones, kind eyes that were behind thick circular glasses and his hair is jet black, brush forward and covering his forehead. There are a few pimples on his face, but he’s a cute guy.

“Hi.” He says quietly, his ahead falling back to his desk. He’s shy. I can’t help but giggle, noticing his eyes widen at me. My giggles stop short, my eyes also widening.

“I’m not laughing at you or anything!” I rush out, “I just think you’re...cute.” My giggles start up again, a blush growing throughout his face.

“I’m Y/n.” I stretch my hand out and he shakes it briefly. He opens his mouth to speak but is interrupted by the teacher.

“Alright! I gave you some time to get familiar with your partner! Don’t worry you’ll have time to talk some more! They will be your writing partner for the rest of the school year!” The teacher gives everyone a big smile before turning back to the board.

I settle into my seat, leaning back into the chair and smiling. I can’t help but glance over at the shy boy was didn’t speak much.

《 PRESENT 》

This is cruel. This is unforgiving and devilish. Why should I have to see Kim Namjoon again, let alone work for him?

My gut was telling me to turn down this job, and it wasn’t wrong. I shouldn’t be here. It should have been someone else. Fate couldn’t be this cruel. It just couldn’t. I thought I could have gone another 10 years before I had to lay my eyes on that man again.

I lean my head against the cold metal wall of the elevator. I watched the elevator doors close, leaving me to stare at my own reflection. It’s now day 2. Only 238 more days till this contract is over. I can’t help but chuckle at how ridiculous this situation is.

I finally reach for and press the button for the 23rd floor, the elevator pings and shifts as it went upwards.

I didn’t let my emotional breakdown yesterday stop me. I went to the bathroom, cleaned myself up and walked back into the office, doing the work that was expected of me. I am grateful that I didn’t have to see Mr. Kim again till he was leaving his office for the day. He didn’t spare a look my way.

Maybe he doesn’t recognize me? How much can a person change in 3 years? Or he counts our time together as a different phase of life? He probably doesn’t see the need to mention the elephant in the room. Rather let sit there, and bother both of us. He thinks it bothers me more and if he does, he’s right.

Today I wore a long sleeved mustard yellow blouse that was tucked in into my black and white houndstooth pattern pencil skirt. It’s not a look I usually go for, but I wanted anything to distract from the dread that was clear on my face. The outfit was cute and the colors worked wonderfully, so I praise myself for that.

I looked down at my peach-nude heels and thanked god that it matched. I was practically a zombie as I walked out the house today. I couldn’t remember what shoes I put on. My hair was down and I kept my make-up natural.

My purse hung on my shoulder, only carrying my schedule book for Mr. Kim, my phone, keys and wallet. The elevator dinged once more, and the doors slid open to show the pearl white walls. It’s day two. Another fresh start. The past doesn’t matter here. Just work performance.

I stepped through the doors and started down the hallway. As I hear the clicking of my heels, my nervousness vanishes. I am simply an assistant. As long as Mr. Kim plays it cool, so should I. He doesn’t owe me anything.

“Good morning.” I called as I walked in. My words stopped short as I realized that Sana wasn’t there. I look at the watch on my wrist. It’s twenty to eight. I guess I am a bit early, but that’s better than late. Most employees don’t start coming in till about 8:30. Mr. Kim arrives somewhere between 8 am and 8:30am.

I grab my schedule book and set my bag under the desk. I wasn’t too out of it yesterday to forget to write my to-do list. I turn on the computer and my desk and look through my email to find the needed documents. I want to have them done before anyone else can get in my way.

I sent the documents to the printer and soon found myself moving back and forth in the office. I walk through the double doors that lead to the cubicles of the employees and go to the copy room. I’m making copies and finding folders to pack them into. It didn’t feel strange with it being just me in the office.

It feels better to work in silence, with less people around me. After printing, copying and organizing all the documents, I made my way towards the empty conference room and spread the folders out.

Mr. Kim has a meeting with some employees about the books that were to be published in the next 3 months. That meeting is followed by another meeting on authors to sign with. I printed and copied the documents for the second meeting. I took those folders back with me. They were stacked in my arms, and blocked my view.

I managed to waltz into the lobby area and to my desk just before they started slipping out of my hands. I grabbed the empty white box that once held my belongings and dropped the folders in there.

I stood up straight, smoothing my skirt and reaching for my schedule book on what to do next.

I took a seat and started sending out emails. It wasn’t long before I heard footsteps approaching, Heels clicked in a speedy matter, the jiggling of keys mimicking the quick movement. Sana comes around the corners in sand colored dress pants and an ivory white blouse. Her keys are in her hands and her bag is clutched in the other hand.

“Oh you’re here!” She wails, through her hands up as if saying thank you to a higher power.

“I forgot I’m not the only secretary anymore.” She mutters as she walks towards the desk. I resume typing up the emails, giving Sana a pointed look as she plopped into her seat.

“Sana, get in the habit of coming in early. I was able to do the needed work for the morning on my own, but it won’t always be like that.”

She nods, still catching her breath, “Or course! I don’t want to slack off! I want to learn from you.” She lazily tosses her bag on the floor and switches her computer on. Her acrylic nails tap against the desk as she hums a tune to herself.

“Let me help prepare the meeting docu--”

“Done.” I deadpan. She narrows her eyes at me and a small smile pulls at the corners of her lips.

“Seriously?” She was in disbelief.

“Yes,” I answered, sparing a glance.

“And the deadline emails?” She questioned, leaning over to sneak a glance at my computer screen.

“That’s what I am doing now.”

“Wow, Y/n! You’re killing it!”

I try to keep from rolling my eyes, “The sooner you do things, the smoother they run. Once Mr. Park arrives, I’m going to get the financial report of the previous quarters and make copies for the meeting with Jung Hoseok of Jung Funding.”

“That meeting isn’t till 3.” Sana points out like I’d forgotten.

“Do we have to wait till 2 pm to get started on that?” I raise my eyebrows at her as she shakes her head no.

“Exactly.” I answer back.

“What if Mr. Kim changes something at the last minute?” She leans back in her seat, a grimace appearing on her lips while she looks off to the side. She must have dealt with something like that previously.

I sigh, “Then we just go with it. It happens, there is nothing that can be done about it.”

I press send on the last email, check the time on the computer. It’s 8:20 am. Mr. Kim should be on his way in--

“Get started on the documents for the first meeting. It’s been moved up 30 minutes.” His voice cut through the lobby like a knife. The light weight atmosphere created by small talk was stepped on by his demanding presence.

“They have been completed sir.” I stood up from my seat as he walked in, walking like he was taking a stroll in the park.

His steps stop, and he puts both hands into the pocket of his pants. His outfit today was missing the coat. He wore a white dress shirt with a dark grey vest and pants that matched. He kept his head down, giving us a view of his profile.

I try to ignore the pounding in my ears as I stare at him, waiting to hear what he says. I work to keep my breathing under control since it felt like my heart slamming itself against my rib cage.

“You’ve done that already?”

“Yes sir--”

“And the paperwork for the potential authors meeting?”

“That is done as well.” I answered back, keeping my tone neutral while giving a friendly smile. I hope it didn’t look as stiff as it felt.

He doesn’t say anything else and trods into his office.

“He was totally looking for something to be angry about.” Sana says in an annoyed tone.

I don’t reply but sit back down in my seat, sorting through emails. I can’t be sure how much time goes by before I hear footsteps coming down the hallway. This time it’s accompanied by chatter and laughter. The sounds get louder and a big group of employees turn the corner.

Did they all wait to come up at the same time? There were about 9 of them. They were chatting among themselves but it seems there was on person who was the center of all that talk. A man I haven’t seen before.

“Mr. Park?” I called out. It was a guess, but I wasn’t left feeling stupid as the man stops mid laugh, He looks around then meets my questioning expression. The two women that stood around didn’t hide their glares. I ignored them, looking at my computer screen for a moment before standing up from my seat.

“Good morning Mr. Park, I am--”

“Y/n L/n.” He cuts me off, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. Wow. What a good looking man. He must be a charmer, and with how the women of the office flock around him...he’s trouble. His hair was jet black and parted to the side and slicked back. He wore a sharp black suit with a white dress shirt underneath.

He carried a suitcase that he handed to one of the women that were clinging to him. The woman gladly takes it.

“You’re the new administrative assistant right? I’ve heard a lot.” He says while flirtatious light comes to his eyes. I don’t miss the way his eyes move along my face and body. His attention is brought back up to my eyes and he smiles innocently like he wasn’t just checking me out.

“I need the financial reports for the last eight quarters. If you could please gather that up and email it to me.” I sat back down to grab a sticky note, jotting down my email and holding it out.

He takes slow steps towards the desk, and since my patience is short this morning, I simply stick the note to the desk surface.

When he takes the note from the desk, I can feel his eyes on me. I look up from the computer screen to see the smile on his lips widen.

“I am Park Jimin, but you can call me Jimin.”

I exhale, taking my hands off the keyboard and leaning back in my seat, “Mr. Park, I need those reports quickly.”

“Don’t let his smile fool you, Mr. Park is not a man to get wrapped up in.” Sana mutters from beside me. I noticed the women that were glaring at me earlier entering into the employees area, through me another stank look before letting the doors close behind them. More employees were slowly making their way in for work, not of them batting an eye at Mr. Park who was leaning against the desk.

“It takes a lot more to fool me than a smile.” I said to Sana.

“You heard her Mr. Park, you’d be wasting your time.” Sana jeers. Mr. Park doesn’t acknowledge her words at all, only slowly stepping away from the desk then turning around to walk into the employees area.

“Looks like Mr. Park has set his eyes on you.” Sana says, still looking through some paperwork.

“That doesn’t feel like a good thing.” I sneer.

She chuckles, “It’s not.”

The next hour goes by smoothly. Not instructions or emails from Mr. Kim and Mr. Park sent the reports over. I am in the process of printing and copying them when I hear a booming voice.

I step out of the copy room just in time to see other employees shying away from the voice. I can’t help but sigh as I realize it’s probably Mr. Kim. Ugh. He’s found something to be angry about and it isn’t even noon.

“Ms. L/n!” A voice roars. I roll my eyes knowing what’s coming. I’ve been yelled at many times, so there is nothing Mr. Kim could do to faze me.

“Yes?” I call out delightedly. I keep my voice light as I round the corner to see him stalking down the aisle.

The angry look on his face with the hands on his hips tells me all I need to know. His ears are turning red, as they usually do when he’s angry, and his brows are furrowed. The creases in his forehead as he glares at me, ages him a bit.

“Why am I getting phone calls from angry authors?” He yells. Everyone around me flinches as he shouts. I can only stare up at him with a blank facial expression, not moving an inch as he yells at me.

He steps closer, a familiar cologne whisking off of him. Not overbearing, but present enough that you want to lean in to smell more.

“I am not sure sir. I do not have a complete understanding of the situation.” I answered calmly. Employees around us were pretending to work, but it was clear that they were listening in. I notice Mr. Park watching from a distance, his facial expression unreadable.

“The deadlines you emailed were incorrect! These dates are impractical! 2 weeks? Come on Ms. L/n! Use your head! I thought you were supposed to be smart.” He hisses. I can say, I have never seen Namjoon like this. The Namjoon I knew would never raise his voice like this, at least not in front of other people.

I cleared my throat and answered back confidently, “I will send the deadlines to you for correcting sir.”

I watched his face contort in confusion, “Excuse me? To me?”

“Yes sir.”

“Why the hell would you do that?”

“Well, those are the deadlines you wrote up for me sir. I was not aware that the dates were incorrect, for it was only my first day. I am so sorry for the stress that was caused to your authors. I will email each other apologizing for the mix up.”

“You have some nerve. Ms. L/n, are saying this is my fault?” His voice is quieter this time, but the menacing tone didn’t flatter.

I smile sweetly, “Of course not sir! I will simply issue apologies to the authorities and make sure the correct deadlines are given to them.”

“Don’t even email them. Call them personally.” He adds.

“Of course, sir.” I nod. The whole office I silent as I keep the appearance of my small smile, holding the folders close to my chest as he glares at me in silence. Though it isn't showing in my face, it felt like my heart could explode in that moment.

Who is this man? So familiar but so foreign.

“When you’re done with your paperwork, come to my office.” It felt like he was towering over me, and for once I can feel the difference in levels. This is not Kim Namjoon, the dorky boy I knew in 9th grade English. This is Mr. Kim, wealthy CEO of KM-Moonchild Publishing.

“Of course sir.” I reply before he turns around and exits the way he came in. I simply shrug and turn around to go back into the copy room when someone calls out to me.

“You really talked back to er. Kim like that?” It was a female voice. I groaned, spinning around to face the voice. It was a woman with dark red hair and a black and white jumpsuit. She was pretty. Her figure was slim with an hourglass shape. Her hair was in gracious waves that effortlessly rested on her shoulders and down to the middle of her. I'm certain that she’s one of the girls that were gossiping about me yesterday.

I stared at her, and I’m sure my gaze came off as bored, because I was. I don't care what this lady has to say. It’s nothing of use.

“I was just having a conversation with Mr. Kim. A conversation requires two people to speak.”

She crosses her arms over her chest, “You have no respect! It’s one thing to think you’re better than us, but can your ego relax. Mr. Kim isn’t someone to--”

“I am not here to be lectured. I have work to do. I haven’t been fired yet,when I am I will make sure to come and cry that you were right so that your ego can get the boost it needs.” I try not to laugh at the expression on her face but a slight chuckle leaves my lips as I turn into the copy room.

I hum to myself as the copy machine does it’s job, being and humming as it does so. I’m tapping my fingers against the buzzing machine when I sense a presence behind me.

“Yes?” I called out, looking over to spot Mr. Park leaning against the doorway with a smug smile.

I bit my tongue to keep back the groan that wanted to leave my lips. Not this guy again. I already feel the need to have HR on speed dial.

“Are you here to bother me?” I say out, and turn my back to him again. It’s quiet for a while before I heard a soft sigh.

“I’m not here to start any trouble, I just think it’s very cool the way you handled things back there.” His tone was different from when we spoke earlier.

“I always handle things. Mr. Kim is no different from the other people I have worked for. I have been yelled at many times.” I grab the newly printed papers and turn to face Mr. Park just so I could place the papers on the table. I started my second batch of copying before he spoke again.

“You’re not worried about being fired?”

I shrug, pushing another button on the machine, “I’ve already been paid 50% of my contract payment, so I could care less. Mr. Kim only has me for eight months.”

“Eight months huh? That’s too bad.” He mutters to himself.

~!~

“He’s so gonna fire you.” Sana whispers to me. I don’t look away from my computer, typing up the emails for the new deadlines that were sent to me by Mr. Kim. He must have realized he was in the wrong, seeing how the corrected deadlines were sent to me before I could return to my desk from the copy room. But when I returned to the desk, Mr. Kim was in his first meeting of the day. So here I sat with Sana who had heard about what happened as one of the women were giggling about it on their way out the office.

“Let’s hope he does.” I mumble. Sana hears me, looking my way and pouting.

“Do you not like it here?”

“It doesn’t matter if I hate it here or not, it’s my work.” I didn’t think much of it when Sana didn’t say anymore. I was finishing up the email with the new deadlines when some heavy footsteps came from the employee area, and the double doors opened to reveal Mr, Kim who was being trailed by some employees.

I could see them out of the corner of my eyes. I focused on the computer screen once more, pretending I didn’t notice the glance my way from Mr. Kim. The two men stand in the middle of the lobby speaking about the meeting that just ended.

I spend the last deadline email and turn to another page in my scheduling book to begin the apology phone calls. That doesn’t go far because Sana nudges me with her arm. When I look at her, she’s looking forward. I follow her gaze to see Mr. Kim practically glaring at me.

“Ms. L/n, my office please.” He says. His voice was too neutral for the scowled that was burned onto his face. I didn’t get the chance to respond before he spun around and zoomed into his office.

I stood up, smoothing my skirt and grabbing my scheduling book. I ignored Sana’s puppy dog's eyes, seeing as she was scared for me.

I strolled to the heavy wooden doors, knocked and opened it to see him standing behind his desk.He hands were behind his back and he was zoned out. His attention was elsewhere and his mind was far off somewhere else.

I closed the door behind me and fought back the smile curling at the corner of my lips. The lost look on his face reminds me of Namjoon from high school. The smart boy who would daydream in class.

“Mr. Kim?” I call out. His neck snaps up and his eyes grow hard and dark. The gentle expression on his face was no more.

I approached his desk, holding the schedule book close to my chest.

“You wanted to speak to me?” I say, feeling nervousness bubbling up in me. Something about the atmosphere has shifted. By the look in his eyes, I know what he's going to do.

“Why are you here?” He asks in an icy tone. I raise an eyebrow at him, pretending to be clueless.

“What do you mean Mr. Kim? If this is about the deadline--”

“Y/n, cut the shit.” He deadpans. I press my lips into a tight line, gripping the schedule book tighter and clear my throat.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Did you come here to torture me?” He says quickly, ignoring my attempt at feigning ignorance. My face scrunches up in offense. I took a step back before shaking my head in disbelief.

What the fuck? He thinks I came here on purpose?

“I came here to work.” I hiss, “I didn’t know a damn thing about this job when I got the offer. You think’d I take the job I knew I would see you?”

He runs his fingers through his hair and I watch him intently, waiting for him to speak again. When he doesn't voice my thoughts.

“I came here to work. Not to torture you, not to bug you. I couldn’t care less about you and what you’re doing. Separate work from personal and keep it moving.”

“Of course that’s easy for someone as heartless as yourself.” He jeers, laughing humorless. My breath catches in my throat and I take a second to collect myself. That one stung a little bit.

“Insulting me isn’t going to change anything.” I kept my voice level, hoping that the trembles that were starting to climb up my body wouldn’t show in my voice.

His eyes narrow at me, one corner of his lips turning up in a sinister smile. The loathing touch to his sharp eyes made me feel small in that moment.

“You’re standing here talking to me like a fucking robot. Does seeing me not invoke any sort of emotion?”

“I am just here to work, Mr. Kim.” I repeat for the third time, mustering a strained smile. I try not to think back to the crying fit I had the day before. The shock of seeing Namjoon truly took everything out of me, but it doesn’t matter. Things couldn’t go back to normal even if we wanted it to. Too much damage has been done.

“If that’s all sir, I’ll be taking my leave. I have authors to call and apologize to.” My legs feel shaky when I take the first step to turn around, and I stumble a bit. I catch myself, and just pray that Namjoon chucks it up to losing the balance of my heels.

“How is your sister doing?” He rushes out, like he wanted to keep me from leaving the room. I put my hand on my doorknob debating what to reply.

“I’m not going to pretend to care about the current state of your life, so don’t pretend to care about mine.”

“I am not--” I open the door and step out quickly, letting the door close on it’s own. My quick trot to the desk made Sana gaze at me with sad eyes.

“That was quick. It was probably a rough lecture wasn’t it?”

I plop down in my seat, “Nothing I can’t handle.” I lied.

I’m lying. I can’t handle this.

∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ❣

Things are a bit awkward, in terms of the writing but it’ll get there. More info will be revealed later.

Let me know what you thought of this chapter! How do you feel about this story?

#kim namjoon #bts #bts rm #bts namjoon #bts kim namjoon #bts angst #bts fan fic #bts ff #bts reactions #bts scenarios #kim namjoon angst #namjoon angst #kim namjoon x reader #namjoon x reader

174 notes · View notes

bbnibini · 4 years

Text

PSISLY: An Obey Me!CYOA – forty-four🔖

{ OPEN STATUS : YES

> approved > displaying capture targets

Mammon : 100♡/100♡ Satan: 85♡/100♡ Barbatos: 0♡/100♡ Lucifer: 5♡/100♡

CLOSE STATUS : YES >approved }

You wondered where it all went wrong.

Everything had been perfect since you discovered the identity of your secret admirer. Uncovering sides of Mammon that perhaps he wasn't even aware of himself, you spent a lot of time getting to know each other, marveling at every new thing you discovered about him. You kept his love-filled words close to your heart, lingering there at times when you felt lost and perhaps even unloved. His penned words were beautiful yet poignant, hopeful yet deep which, you have eventually discovered reflected so much of Mammon himself. He often rebuffed your praises, perhaps shy of your careful observations. There would always be a blush there dusting his cheeks, colouring itself in deeper shades at every sneaky kiss. You always liked those nights when you talk about anything that pops out of your minds, and you thought he liked them too. But now, you were starting to feel doubt.

"Mammon, I didn't mean to--"

He turned away from you and covered his face with both of his hands. "This ai-- this won't…" he hesitated. "It will never work between us."

How did it come to this?

💌💌💌

Flashback to this morning when it all started.

"Mammon?" you couldn't help but reach out to him, your hand touching his cheek. ' Didn't the spell work?' you thought to yourself as you heard him stutter a 'Yes', kissing your inner palms.

"Is something amiss, my love? You look like you've seen a ghost."

So it didn't work?

You shook your head and let your hand rest on his cheek. "No…I was just wondering if you wanted to sleep some more."

Why is he still acting like this?

"If I sleep now, then it would ruin yesterday's efforts." he fiddled with something in his DDD--his email app; showing two booked tickets to Devil's Coast. Signs of the old Mammon showed in his boyish grin. "And all it took was covering for an acquaintance's shift."

"Is that why you're there yesterday?"

Mammon smiled shyly. "Yes…I wanted to surprise you. Is it too early to celebrate the conclusion of our final exams?"

You couldn't help but smile back. You planted a kiss on his lips which he happily received. "Very early. But this is a nice change of pace before Armageddon."

"Ain't that the--" he cleared his throat and quickly corrected himself. "Very true. Once this weekend is over, we are back to our old, monotonous routines."

You weren't imagining it. Something about his graceful movements really did seem off. "I'm looking forward to it!" Then again, you supposed there was a reason behind this. You decided to humour him and pretend you haven't noticed anything. "Let me wash up first and we can grab something to eat?"

"That sounds lovely."

Hoping your feigned smile wouldn't betray you, you shut the bathroom door and quickly opened your DDD to text Satan.

You looked at your own reflection in the mirror and nodded to yourself. Turtleneck it is. You learned your lesson the last time. A mixture of Mammon's toiletries and yours were in the bathroom, making you remember how he was trying his best to hide his excitement from invading half of your space the first time you talked about sharing a room. Not like his room was safe from your own stuff too--it just so happens that he likes hanging around your room lately because of how busy you were. He usually finishes his council duties early and tries (read: tried) to help you with yours, until both of you immediately realise that his bystanding was the best help he could offer. Any pouting from his side was placated with hugs and kisses, words of love he was too shy to say back and a loving gaze he couldn't help but give you when he thought you wouldn't notice. He still isn't the most honest demon when it comes to expressing his feelings, but you can see that he was trying. You just hoped that his recent gentlemanly behaviour is also a part of his trials and he isn't involved in anything dangerous.

Letting go of your nostalgia and embracing the present back in your thoughts, you wondered about the sound of shattering glass from outside. There you saw a flustered Mammon picking up the shards of what looked like Lucifer's china with his bare hands--his gentlemanly facade was nowhere to be seen.

"Mammon, no! Put that down. You'll injure yourself!" you cried, responding on instinct to take his hands into yours, throwing the shards back to the floor in the process. You snuck a look at Mammon and saw his troubled expression, bitten lips you usually noticed when he wasn't having the best kind of thoughts---or you simply dubbed as sad Mammon upon discovering it one drunken, wild and passionate night. You couldn't smell any alcohol on him this time though so you wondered what caused him to look this way.

"I'm fine…" Gentlemammon was back, albeit with a shaky voice. "Please don't worry, I still have to clean this up."

"Let me help you."

"It will heal quickly even if I get injured. There is nothing to worry about." he assured you, keeping your warning in mind, only to take it back once he saw your worried look. "I will wear gloves this time," he said as he hastily placed each pair on, a small smile forming his lips as he did so. "There, you see? I will be fine. So please step back now and I'll do it myself."

"What were you doing anyway?"

Mammon avoided eye contact. "I wanted to serve you breakfast in bed."

"That's very sweet but, you shouldn't push yourself too hard."

Silence. He continued picking up the shards, disposing of it in a trash bag nearby. "I want to push myself." You heard him sigh. "However, I suppose it's my mistake to assume I can carry this out without failure. Can I try again though?"

You didn't have the heart to reject him especially if he looked like a kicked puppy right now. "Of course! But I want to eat with you."

A compromise that he was willing to adhere to. The pancakes he made were slightly charred and oddly spicy. The Melancholy Coffee™ you praised him for making the other day tasted even worse---unpleasantly bitter that if you didn't attribute its strong, bitter taste to Mammon's love for you would have caused a gagging reflex. A feigned smile was painted on your face for the rest of breakfast, making mental notes to take stomach medicine once he is out of sight. You comforted yourself with the fact that you had a date with him today. The bitterness subsided a bit with your early morning daydreams.

Satan had been a wonderful accomplice. With his intervention, Mammon avoided bumping into anyone, thus making his situation a lot less complicated. The avatr of wrath gave you a conspiratory smile and a wink, mouthing you well wishes for your day by your lover's side to go smoothly. You nodded and mouthed back at him a thanks in reply. Your back and forth didn't escape notice however. You avoided Mammon's sensible questioning with a clueless smile.

"I haven't seen even Beelzebub at the dining area today. Is everyone but Satan asleep?"

Smile.

"I was going to pay back Leviathan for the money I owed him this morning. I wonder why he isn't around today…"

He will pay back?! Smile

"I wonder how my dear eldest brother Lucifer is doing--"

S-smile…

"As I thought, perhaps expecting change from me is unsightly. I'm sorry if I'm wasting your weekend by asking you out out of the blue…"

Smi--

"Wait, no!" you held him by his face and vehemently denied his claims. "I love you, Mammon! I'm looking forward to today as you are!"

Blush.

Your faces resembled tomatoes. Satan had to clear his throat to remind both of you of his presence.

"If you flirt any longer, you'll miss your bus."

"R-right…" you looked away.

"Certainly." Mammon stuttered. You felt a hand reaching out for yours, turning to Mammon who had a bashful smile. You smiled back and interlocked your fingers together.

The ride to the amusement park was awkward yet pleasant. You saw cracks in his facade a couple of times, familiar with the reluctance on his movements unlike his odd and almost unsettling finesse at the cafe. You still weren't sure if he really is still under a curse or not, or if he is and it was weakening every moment, but you decided to wait for him to address it on his own. You have recently learned that Mammon gets really flustered if you pay attention to him (bordering almost on timidity) and loses his will/drive if you let him know that you are aware of him. A few pillow talks ago, he admitted it was because he only wanted to show you his cool sides, to which you answered (with much confusion), "But you're always cool though?" and he responded with his usual remarks, ranging from "idiot" to his classic "weirdo"™. Today, much like yesterday however, there was none of that. Instead, he called you several affectionate pet names, and even bashfully shared some snacks with you that he usually considered as "indirect kiss territory", which is Mammon Code for "I ain't doin' this cos I like it, kay?" which totally meant that he was doing it because he liked the heck out of it.

"Hey Mammon," you looked at his reflection from your window seat as you spoke. "Why did you write me a letter?"

You saw him blush an adorable shade of red from the window. "What's with the sudden question?"

"I was just curious," you answered. "I didn't know you could write so well."

"I-is that so…"

"I really appreciate it, although you might be tired of hearing it already."

"...."

"I'm so glad you sent it to me. To be honest, I was beginning to wonder if anyone will ever remember me once I go back to the human world." you remembered your first interaction with him and laughed. "We didn't have the best first impression of each other, didn't we?"

"...I should have treated you better."

You leaned your head on his shoulder and kissed his cheek, looking up to meet his eyes. "You're doing it now and that's what matters."

You sensed sadness in his eyes for a fraction of a second before the conductor announced your stop. You must have imagined it.

💌💌💌

"Wahhh! Mammon, look! Look! Is that Red Devil?! Kyaaaa he's so cuuuute!!"

"O-oi, don't pull-- I mean…Cease! Cease!"

You couldn't help it! There was so much to see everywhere! The crowded theme park was filled with all kinds of attractions at every direction that any child or child-at-heart would definitely enjoy. Taking a photo with the park's mascot, Red Devil is one of the first activities you have done from your many planned ones on your date. Your contagious enthusiasm had infected him that by the time he realised he was grinning at every picture, it was too late. He looked oddly disturbed but you only laughed it off and reassured him that the shots were great!

"It isn't...after all, I'm--"

"Mammon?"

"It's nothing." You were beginning to feel bad for dragging him along.

"Is everything okay?" he suddenly turned pale and you asked him to sit down. "Do you want to take a break?"

He declined your offer and shook his head. "I'm fine. Let's continue our date, shall we?"

Eh?

That pose…

"The Devilish Duke?"

It was definitely the Devilish Duke from the manga adaptation of Emison Beckstein's timeless classic, The Emerald-Eyed Earl. The Devilish Duke was the protagonist's fiancé and was a minor villain in the story. He became hugely popular because of the success of the manga adaptation as well as the artist's interpretation of his design. You couldn't help but mention it right now because Mammon was currently mimicking the Duke's infamous "courtship pose", which many otakus credit for being the very first ever "kabedon".

Mammon's eyes widened once you mentioned his name and quickly pulled away. He dragged you gently to the next attraction before you could say a word.

His odd behaviour only persisted as your date went on-- a kiss on your hand near the fountains, like what Senpai-San did to Shujinko-chan in Heartbeat Memorial: My First Love, Please Notice Me Or I Will Spontaneously Combust! ; a reiteration of an infamous line from a popular otome game, Mystery Message Delivery in the ferris wheel, as well as a kiss at its top, just like Mary Sue and Gary Stu from the popular Devildom Drama, I'm a Powerful Demon But I Fell in Love with a Human?. If you weren't familiar with the references, your heart must have already given out the first time he attempted those moves at you, but since you were aware of where they're from, you couldn't help but think it was cute instead. He must have done his own research to make you happy, but it was a failure on his part to not realise that you would have been happy even if he didn't go out of his way. Then again, it was pretty unfair to complain because anything Mammon did in your own biased eyes was precious and adorable.

"I love you, Mammon." you muttered loud enough for him to hear while you were in line for the Devil's Teacups . He must have heard it because he squeezed your hand tighter as you waited.

There were still times when he persisted on keeping his Gentlemammon™ facade, much like when he declined going to the horror house with you, only for you to find out he wanted to turn you down in the first because he wasn't very good with ghosts (You had to wait for him to defrost after turning into a literal ice sculpture when one of the ghosts grabbed him by the ankle). He also swore not to let you ride "rigorous rides", but finally let his hair down and rode all of your favourite thrill rides with his usual energy and cheer. By the time he realised this, both of you were lining up for the March of Death for the third time. You learned your lesson already and didn't make a fuss about his tiny revelation. Instead, you held him by the arm and smiled at him. "It's fun, isn't it?" Mammon looked shocked at first, but as he sighed and finally replied, you noticed he was back to his usual self. "It certainly is." Your heart immediately deflated at his answer, but more than anything, you couldn't help but be disappointed in yourself.

He had his guard up for the rest of your date and you didn't know why. It seemed like he was forcing himself. The sun was starting to set, and the bus home had been terribly late so you had a lot of time to contemplate while waiting for it to come. Mammon had been silent, looking up at the sky as if searching for something far away. You didn't want him to wander too far so you pulled him back.

"Why have you been acting weird since yesterday. What's wrong?" you couldn't help it. You have finally ran out of patience and you're starting to take his unusual behaviour personally, which you know deep down was unfair especially with how he went out of his way today.

Mammon looked taken aback, frowning once he processed your words. "What do you mean?"

"That. Why…why are you doing that?"

"..."

When he didn't answer, you finally aired out the thoughts weighing you down. "I didn't want to ask you because I wanted you to say it first, I'm sorry. Was it because of what I said last night?"

He called your name, sounding hurt. "Do you not like it?"

You shook your head. "I meant it when I said I don't like it, you know. And I mean it in the best way!" You held him by the hand and placed it close to your chest, hoping your beating heart was already telling. "I prefer the real you."

"Do you really mean that?"

You nodded again. "I even consulted Satan yesterday to undo your curse. You...you were cursed, weren't you?"

"So it was you."

What?

"Mammon,what's going on?" What did he mean by that? You started to worry.

However, despite your repetitions, Mammon didn't answer. Instead, he only looked at you guiltily. At some point, he held your hand back with his trembling ones. He needs time, you thought to yourself and kissed his knuckles, not saying a word. Eventually, your patience was rewarded.

"...I asked the witches to curse me."

You quietly urged him to continue speaking. "I just wanted this date to be perfect, y'know? Don't wanna screw it up. I always do.

Now don't look at me like that. It's unfair. Ya say one thing but mean another. Even you are sick and tired of me, yeah?"

What…

When did you ever say that?!

It hurt. It hurts to think that Mammon ever thought you'd think of him that way. You thought you had been a wonderful lover to him, always showering him with affection and treasuring every moment you shared together. You thought he knew how much he mattered to you, but it turns out you weren't expressing yourself enough and he assumed you were lying to yourself.

"I…I never…"

Crap. Now, you can't even see him clearly. Stupid tears. You felt him wiping your eyes at every tear shed, muttering apologies as he gently held you in his arms. "Shit! I didn't mean to make ya cry. Fuck, this is why I'm such a screw up! If I coulda stayed cursed for a while longer, you'd never cry like this!"

"Mammon…I love you." you repeated those words again and again until you were satisfied. "Didn't I tell you? I love you for who you are and what you are that I have eventually found out on my own."

He didn't speak after what you said, instead he pulled you away from the hug. Despite feeling disheartened, you continued to speak. "Mammon, I don't care how long it takes for you to accept that you are all of the things I tell you. If I can lend you my eyes so you can see what kind of wonderful demon I'm seeing whenever I look at you, I'd do so in a heartbeat. I love you."

You thought this would placate him, but instead, he sneered. "Which part of me do you actually love?"

"Everything!" you answered. "I love that there is so much more to you than meets the eye---I feel thankful every day that I have been privy to see that sweet and sincere side of you, especially in your letter. True, I did not feel that way at first, but the letter, oh Mammon. I fell in love with you upon reading its first passages! No one had ever said such precious words to me in my life, so I wanted to do the same for you."

"In the end, it's always that stupid letter."

"Excuse me?"

"IT'S ALWAYS THAT STUPID FUCKING LETTER!" he shouted, immediately regretting his outburst once he saw the hurt look on your face. However hurt you looked as the truth was spoken to you, he pressed on and twisted the knife even further. If a sweet memory is a calm before your inevitable storm (read: breakup), it was better to at least tell you the truth.

"I can't see it. I can't see that wonderful demon you're always talking about---the one who wrote that letter to you." The sunset dyed his silver hair orange. "I tried seeing him. Maybe it's me who's the problem, y'know? You kept on telling me I'm all these amazin' things, but I just couldn't. All I see is...me."

"Mammon."

"You said I was sincere, but I don't remember bein' sincere at all when I was writin' that stupid thing, so I tried to be even if I was bad at it. You said I was thoughtful so I tried to be, but look at where that thoughtfulness went---tears on your fucking face." he laughed bitterly. "I'm an absolute saint, aren't I?"

"...I really meant it you know?"

" 'Course you do. That's fer sure. But lovin' a scum means he's still scum. You deserve better, and I can't give that to ya."

"But Mammon…I only want you."

Mammon's bitter smile never left his face. "Do ya really? Or do you want the Mammon who wrote you the letter?"

!!!

"See? I gotcha, didn't I?"

You don't understand. What did he get that you didn't? You love Mammon, that was the truth. You did not love him, and weren't even aware of him at first, but the letter he sent to your locker changed that. It was a catalyst for finally seeing him in a completely different light. What was the difference between the Mammon who wrote the letter to the Mammon in front of you in the first place? Aren't they one and the same? Was he joking right now? Because you certainly weren't laughing.

However many thoughts were racing in your mind right now, only three words seem to come out of you.

"I love you," and every utterance only brought more tears in your eyes, afraid of the possibility that Mammon must have been feeling the same way right now.

You were tired. Tired of explaining it to him, tired of reassuring him that he was fine the way he is. Every 'I love you' was like a dagger to your heart, growing conscious of the fact that both of you may feel the same way, but both of your feelings weren't reaching each other at all.

In your exasperation, you couldn't help but finally say,

"I don't want this anymore."

You wondered where it all went wrong.

"Mammon, I didn't mean to--"

He turned away from you and covered his face with both of his hands. "This ai-- this won't…" he hesitated. "It will never work between us."

*beep!*

"Get on first. I'll catch up with ya."

"...okay."

How did it come to this?

💌💌💌

You didn't know how you were able to get home that night. You couldn't even remember the people you spoke to before you went back to your room. The side of your bed was empty of Mammon as well as your heart.

You didn't realise that you hurt him. You might have meant well and were even truthful of your affections for him, but the truth still laid there, mocking you in the face--you were idealising him. You thought you knew him by a few reads of the scented passages of his letter, that you refused to see him for who he really is. Oh, what a hypocrite you are.

His question continued to linger in your mind as you retrieved the said letter from your drawer. You didn't have the heart to read what it says anymore.

Why does it matter? It's all over.

Thinking in that vein, you sighted the gas lamp near your table and started entertaining darker thoughts.

Why not just forget about everything?

[ What will you do? ]

💌Burn the letter

💌Hesitate

💌masterlist

#psisly #hamartia series #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #obey me fic #obey me fanfic #obey me cyoa #interactive fiction #obey me mammon #obey me mammon x reader #obey me satan #obey me satan x reader #obey me barbatos #obey me barbatos x reader #obey me lucifer #obey me lucifer x reader #love letter #secret admirer

11 notes · View notes

canaryatlaw · 3 years

Text

okay, well today was a lot, I guess would be the right way to put it. I didn't have any real responsibilities in the morning, so I slept in for a bit, continually checking my phone for any cases coming in, and I got up at like 10:37 am. Work overall was fine, clinic wasn't too crazy which is good. I just ended up getting really irritated dealing with this other lawyer I have a case with. It's an unusual situation, but we'd been perfectly cordial with each other up until yesterday, when they sent a very demanding email that really felt like a threat to me, so I spoke with my client and he ended up agreeing to things, so I was relieved about that. But today when I went to email them about it, their responses were just incredibly nasty, and said things like "I think the judge would be pretty upset if they found out your client said that" like??? what the actual fuck??? after multiple back and forth emails we came to somewhat of a consensus on the case, and I kind of felt bad for being as irritated as I was, because in comparison to the things my clients have to deal with it feels really small. sigh. anyway. The only other work thing I did was fill out an evaluation for one of our interns that's wrapping up her semester. It was kind of funny, because I had been thinking about my torts professor earlier, who made it clear from day 1 she wanted to help us succeed any way she could, offering to write letters of recommendation for anyone who needed them, telling us she always pushed the curve to give as many A's as she can, and setting up the grading so we had a midterm to assess where we were at, but the grade would only be considered in our final grade it if including it would make the grade higher. so I'm thinking about this, as well as how much it meant to me to receive positive evaluations like that while in law school, and I just thought there really was no reason whatsoever that I shouldn't give her 5s across the board- it's certainly not going to affect me in any way, and it could mean a lot to her getting encouragement like that, because I know it meant so much to me in school that I still remember what it said years later. And this was a good intern who had worked hard all year, so what would the point be in giving her less than a perfect grade. So that's what I did, I wrote a glowing review that was as encouraging as possible, and I really hope it does make a difference for her, because she really deserves it. anyway. I ended up with a bit to do at the end of the day, so I pretty much went straight from finishing work stuff to typing out my Batwoman podcast notes and then recording the episode, haha so that was a bit of a marathon but I managed. Once we finished I turned on The Resident episode that had been on earlier and watched that, once I finished it it was almost 10, so I kept it on the fox 9 pm news until it turned 10 and I switched over to ABC news and then Jimmy Kimmel, as I like to do. Also, I'm giving no context for this, but I was reminded about how I can use the knowledge I have about law to help people in so many different contexts, be it in my work or off a social media post, and how it honestly just makes me so happy to be able to help, and I really appreciate that part of my job. I watched Jimmy Kimmel till it was basically over, then showered and started getting ready for bed. now it's 1:45 am so I'm gonna finish things up and hopefully hit the pillow by 2 am. Goodnight my dudes. Sleep tight.

#daily journal #May 2021

2 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

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!”

17 notes · View notes

druddigoon · 5 years

Text

bederia week day 2 prompt that lost steam 3/4 of the way through and ended up never being posted. gonna post as a scrap here, i guess

klara is all of us shippers

When Bede thought about the duties of being a gym leader, he never expected so much of it to be just waiting.

After the scandal with Eternatus and Rose’s arrest, the league was able to pull some strings to quell public unrest and ensure there’d be a gym challenge the next year. Mostly due to the fact that the new champion was the one to save the day, and that two major league gyms were succeeded by people who had played roles in dismantling his regime (because hey, he’ll take credit where credit is due). Now they were on the last dregs of the circuit, when most of the challengers had either advanced to gyms higher in the circuit or were picked off by lower ones.

Bede swung his legs idly against the stage. He’d received an rotom-mail stating that there were three challengers headed his way, but either they were lost in Ballonlea or decided to drop out, because he’d been here since early morning and there was no sign of anyone.

“Might as well just take the rest of the day off,” he muttered to his mawile, currently occupied with nibbling the stage equipment.

Mawile didn’t seem to be paying attention, too busy looking far off into the distance. Suddenly her larger mouth stiffened, her eyes widened, and with a cry that hurt Bede’s eardrums she hopped off the stage and ran out of the room.

Bede found himself with no choice but to follow.

She must’ve heard Gloria arrive at the gym, he thinks. They had planned to meet to train in the Tangle earlier this afternoon, but she had yet to show her face.

He pushed up the heavy double doors leading to the lobby. “About time you came, Glori—”

Wait.

That wasn’t Gloria.

His mawile (traitor) was currently munching pecha berries from a certain trainer he’d hoped to never see outside of league meetings. Her dustox was hovering overhead, shedding a trail of poisonous dust as it investigated the ceiling lights.

“This your mawile?” Klara pets the jaw pokemon, still happily chomping down on her pecha, “Super sweet little gal.”

“Yes. Mawile, you know better than to eat from strangers. Get back here.”

“Let her enjoy her treat! She must be knackered out from alllll the battles you’ve been doing at your gym.”

Bede refused to humor her. “Why are you here?”

“Aww, don’t be like that,” she spoke in a sickenly sweet voice, “Can’t a girl visit her favorite little brother?”

“For the last time, no one is forcibly adopting me.”

“No one except Opal, of course.”

“Look,” Klara said when he didn’t respond, “Minor league doesn’t have half as many duties as you guys do. We don’t have a gym to manage, we don’t have challengers to take care of, all we do is twiddle our thumbs at meetings or train for a shot next year at major! And both are soooo booooring~”

“And that is my problem because…?”

“Consider this payback for ousting my toxtricity in the tournament. You’re stuck with me, fairy boy.”

Before he can retort with I’m not afraid to high horsepower you just like i did your giant lizard, there was a loud slam coming from the entrance, door rattling on its hinges.

Gloria hobbled in out of breath, leaning heavily on the wall. She looked like she’d been through hell: face red, hair askew, and that dumb green beret she always wore nowhere to be found. “Sorry,” she managed, “league...business...took...longer than I thought.”

Did she run all the way to Ballonlea?

Bede sighed and massaged his temples. “I can’t believe you—no, don’t talk back at me, conserve your breath. There’s an empty couch right next to you. I'll go get some water.”

Gloria accepted the water sheepishly. “Sorry about this. I had an interview with a film crew right before when we planned to meet, which was just part of a documentary they were making on the history of Stow-on-Side’s monument. They just wanted my eyewitness account of what happened. Don’t worry, I didn’t go into detail about your disqualification.”

With how often he embarrassed himself in the media (and on live television, during the championship tournament) Bede doubted it would matter.

“But you know I get nervous talking in front of people. When they say it takes ‘one hour tops’, it apparently doesn’t take into account the amount of retakes I needed to do just to get a clip where I don't mumble.” She leaned over to give Mawile a pat on the head. “I was really late by then so I ended just...running. Didn’t realise until I was halfway in Glimwood Tangle that I left my bag at the filming site.”

He settled in the seat next to Gloria’s. “You shouldn’t be having these problems. Take some time for yourself, our meetings aren’t really important and can be moved to a later date. Make sure to factor for commute time and things like this.”

“Ugh, I know. Hop says I’m ‘pants with schedules’. I just...can’t decline. I’m the champion, this is part of my duty.”

Klara cleared her throat, making Bede’s ears burn. He’d completely forgotten they weren’t alone. “You didn’t offer to get me water.”

“Get it yourself,” he snapped back.

“Oh.” Gloria blinked, finally noticing Klara. “I didn’t see you there. You are…?”

“Klara.” She strode closer, extending her hand for a fistbump. “Minor league gym leader, number 881. Poison-type specialist.

“Nice you meet you, I’m—” She paused to glance at the outstretched fist in confusion. Bede bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from snickering. “I’m Gloria. I’ve been meaning to meet with the minor league leaders, actually, so it’s really nice to see you here! Beautiful dustox, by the way. Haven't seen many of its line around Galar."

If Klara took offense to Gloria's (lack of a) fistbump, it was immediately forgotten when Dustox was mentioned. She brightened. "Thanks! Got him from a breeder in Hoenn, and with the laxer species protection laws I was finally able to bring him here."

“Can I see him? Frosmoth has trouble flying in humid weather, and I’ve been wondering how something so bulky like dustox adapted to its environment—d’oh! I should probably call a corvitaxi to get my bag before someone decides to steal it. ”

“No need.” Bede fished out a pokeball and pressed it into her hands. “It’s near the mural, right? My reuniclus remembers how to teleport there. I need to handle some challengers today, so it’s best that we cancel our training. Retrieve your stuff, then go home and rest. You can return my pokemon next time we meet.”

After Gloria left, he turned back to Klara. "You should leave too. I have things to do."

"What, 'handle some challengers'? I don't need a psychic type to know you don't have any."

"I still need to close up. Leave."

“The champion visits you in your gym. For 'training', you say.” Klara rested her chin delicately on her hand. “Ah, young love.”

Bede sputtered halfway into locking the stage doors, catching his thumb in the process. "There is nothing romantic between Gloria and I! We both needed more training, and I was the best gym leader to tutor her."

"Suuuuure you are. And the Battle Tower doesn't exist." She grinned, all predator. "Let's not beat around the bush here. Champ likes you enough to make you her training partner, you care about Champ enough to fuss over her like a mother corviknight. Now, be a good brother and tell Big Sis the details."

Hissing from the pain, he fumbled around before releasing his hatterene. "Fuck you. Hattie, teleport me back to my house."

"Wait! No! Stay with me and I'll make it worth your while! I know the best tricks to woo a girl—"

Bede was gone before she could finish her sentence.

Several days later, he was walking through the streets of Hammerlocke.

There it was, a couple blocks away from the gym: a looming fortress of ebony brick and wreathed ivy with the words Hammerlocke City Vault emblazoned above wooden double doors. He’d been notified that he was to attend a private league conference in one of its side office buildings just yesterday, which was a little unusual since they usually give it at least a week prior. Bureaucracy has done worse, he supposes.

In the lobby, underneath a vivid painting of Galar’s Darkest Day (recently revised to include Zacian and Zamazenta now), sat Gloria, dozing on his reuniclus.

“Bede?” she mumbled, sitting up with a jolt when the pokemon slid out from under her to greet his trainer. “Didn’t know you had business here too.”

“Ditto to you.” Reuniclus chirruped, headbutting his shoulder. He gave him a couple rubs on its head. “Maybe we’re in the same one? Mine’s at ten in room thirty-four.”

“Huh.” Gloria tossed him his pokeball, which he caught and withdrew Reuniclus with. “Same, but...I’m meeting with my PR team, and I’m pretty sure they specifically asked for me. Are you sure yours is today?”

“Give me some credit Gloria, I’m don’t just mix up dates. Let me pull up the email...” He took out his rotom-phone, scrolled down and...yep, there it was: same date, room, and time. The invitation was formal, the same mass-email format he’d received from them a thousand times, and to check he glanced at the sender’s address and—

Sent by Klara.

Arceus fucking help him now, he was going to send his rapidash after her.

“Anything now?” Gloria prompted as Bede shut his rotom-phone with more force than necessary. He noticed she was more subdued lately, didn’t fire quips at him or engage in the back and forth banter that became the norm in their relationship.

He wanted to ask her if she was well, if she actually went home to rest like he told her to. Wanted to see the smile she wore when she played with her pokemon, back when she didn’t look like she was running herself into the ground. Bede had never been the one to concern himself over other people, but there was something he couldn’t stand about watching this quiet candle of a girl get snuffed in the panache of publicity.

“...Guess I did get the date wrong,” he lied. “Do you mind if I join your meeting? Might as well, since I cleared my entire schedule out for this damn trip.”

“Well, I’m alright with it.” She got up, and he didn’t miss the steadying hand she placed on the wall. “I don’t know about the people I’m meeting with…”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re the champion, they should follow what you decide to do.” If his past taught him anything, it was to assert himself or risk getting trampled over. By the way Gloria averted her eyes, he assumed she had not.

They walked into the conference together. When the PR team arrived, Gloria dismissed their confusion with a wave. “I brought Bede along. He won’t be part of the meeting, so just pretend he isn’t here.”

He huffed, crossing his arms, but his indignation melted away when she shot him a weak smile.

#drudwrites #bederia week #bederia #bede x gloria #klara

47 notes · View notes

clubdolan · 5 years

Text

Military Brat -- G.D.

idk it was an idea and i couldn’t think of an ending but i wanted to get it typed up

Grayson stretched his neck out and looked at his alarm clock; 3:23 a.m.

And no one was sleeping next to him.

“Bub, come on.. back to bed, you’ll wake up if he calls..” He grabbed her hand, trying to pull her from the couch. She sat in her pajamas, his clothes, phone in hand, zoned out at the television in front of her.

“Els, c’mon..” He tugged, forgetting the whole reason he was awake was to go to the bathroom.

“He said yesterday or today, at his lunch time... which is eleven to one which is two to four in the morning here.” She gripped harder onto her phone, checking the screen for the thousandth time that night. “Thirty minutes.”

Grayson sighed, letting go of her hand, “Give me a minute.”

A few minutes later he was back with a bottle of water and a blanket from his bed. “Come on, lay down.”

“I can’t fall asleep.” Elsa groaned, checking her phone again. He pulled her back to his chest and the blanket over her lap, “Gray, I can’t.”

“I’ll stay awake, I’ll hold your phone, you need to go to sleep.” He pulled her head onto his chest and tried to grab her phone but she wouldn’t budge. He didn’t fight it, he just wrapped his hand around hers and pulled her tighter.

Elsa sat up quick, looking at her phone. “I missed it, I probably--

“It’s been fifteen minutes.” He rubbed her back, “I will wake you up if anything pops up on your phone, I promise.”

She leaned forward, her face in her hands, “He’s not gunna call.”

“He’s going to call, he still has ten or fifteen minutes.”

Elsa held in her sobs, trying to hide her tears from him but he already knew she was crying. Her dad was an Army Major stationed in Germany and she hadn’t spoke to him in two months and hadn’t seen him for almost a year. Her mother had passed away from cancer two years ago and she followed her dreams and moved to LA to continue dancing, which led her to him.

She was a back-up dancer in music videos, at concerts, awards shows and more. Her Instagram had gained a following which led to modeling and sponsorships and now she was considered an ‘influencer’.

She kept her family life off of the internet. All that anyone knew was that her mom had passed from cancer. Of course Grayson knew every detail, every story she told him good or bad, every memory she could remember with her dad and mom in Germany when she was younger, at their first US house in Virginia, their second US house in Texas. He felt like he knew her whole family but in reality, he had never met them.

He continued rubbing her back until she turned around and dug her face into the blanket in his lap, crying harder. “Els, c’mon bub.” He pushed her hair from her face, “I know this has been planned for weeks, he hasn’t forgot. Maybe a meeting has gone too long and he’s taking a late lunch?”

“I don’t know.. I just wish I could text him.. or email him. Or he would let me know somehow.. I just wait and wait--

She went silent as her phone vibrated, a little tune playing from it, DAD going across the screen.

“Oh my god, hi dad.” She cried out, now tears of happiness were flowing.

“Hi Elsie-bug, sorry it’s so late, a meeting went a little long...” Grayson heard a muffled voice and left her on the couch, pushing the blanket around her shoulders. “Fill me in on everything, I’ve got a while.”

Grayson fell back asleep, hearing her little laugh every now and then & as he woke back up at six, he was still alone in bed.

Elsa sat on the couch, sun peeking through the windows, smiling down at her phone as she typed away. “Morning, Gray!” She spoke up, giving him a smile. “My dad has an email I can send things to right now, so I’m pretty much blowing up his inbox while he’s working, I don’t know when it’ll be shut down.”

“Breakfast?”

“Please.” She groaned, thinking of how empty her stomach was. With her head still down she followed Grayson into the kitchen, “Remember when we went to Universal and got stuck on The Mummy ride?” She laughed, attaching the picture to an email and typing a caption. “I just want to send him my whole camera roll.”

“Please don’t send him your whole camera roll or he will not let you date me.”

“He probably wouldn’t even let me have a phone.” They both laughed, “He doesn’t know if he will be able to come home in the next two months. It could be six months before he’s back.”

“That sucks, but at least you can email him now, keep in contact more often. Tell him how great I am before I eventually meet him someday.” He sat a bowl of oatmeal in front of her, “I will eventually meet him, right?”

“Of course.” She finally put her phone down and sat on the counter to eat breakfast. Grayson walked back and forth making a protein shake for him and a smoothie for her; both chocolate peanut butter.

“I’m going to go workout--

“I’m going to sleep.”

“You’re making me work out alone?” He groaned, “But.. fine.”

“Bring your sweaty, little body back to bed when you’re done.”

“I can’t believe you just called me little.” He walked towards her, standing between her legs. “My sweaty, little body.”

“Sweaty... little... body...” She poked at his chest, “The smallest I’ve ever seen. You say you drink protein? Do you even have leg day?” Grayson laughed as she pulled his shirt off of him, “You call that a six-pack?”

“It’s practically an eight pack” he leaned forward, pinning her between the coffee machine and himself.

Elsa grabbed his arms, her nails scraping along the back, “Your arms are so small, do you work out or just sit on the floor in there? These are pitiful. I ca--”

“You can talk shit about my arms all you want but I know you can get off by just thinking about them, so I’d shut up if I were you.” He mumbled against her mouth, leaving a quick kiss before going to their gym.

Elsa kicked off her shorts and shirt, putting on the shirt she had just taken off Grayson as she buried herself in the sheets exactly where he had laid the night before.

@ElsaOwens: 6:45am = Perfect bed time.

---reply: No I wasn’t partying, I didn’t just get home, I finally got to talk to my dad after two months of waiting. #armybratproblems

She didn’t even remember putting her phone down before she was woken up by a weight dropping down on her whole body. Without thinking she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed the side of his head, “I’m still sleeping.”

“Do you want me to order you lunch with mine? Sushi.”

“My usual please.” She kissed the side of his head again before unwrapping her arms, expecting him to get up.

“I’m tired.”

“Take a nap.” She tapped the top of his head, beginning to play with his hair.

“I want under the blanket.” He whined, standing up on his knees to push the whole blanket back before he dove back on top of her, shoving his head into her chest.

“You’re ... damp.”

“It’s my sweaty, little body.” He mimicked her, “Cardio and upper-body today.”

“Fuck-yeah upper body.” She rubbed her hands around on his stomach.

“Ohh, fuck yeah upper body.” He made fun of her, pushing his shirt up her body, “Your naked.”

“I’m naked.” She giggled, watching him lay his head back down on her chest.

“I’m happy you got to talk to your dad today.” It was a cute moment, really it was. Elsa watched his eye lashes flutter close and she knew he really meant it. Her whole attitude had done a flip in the best way possible.

“You can’t get all touchy with me and then mention my dad.” Her finger trailed up and down his arm, leaving goosebumps along the way. “That’s like me teasing you and then mentioning Eth--

“Don’t fucking say his name.”

“---than.” She finished, pausing her finger. “Ruins it, doesn’t it?”

“I’ll still fuck the living day lights out of you. I don’t give a shit about my brother.” He mumbled into collar bone, “I hope he hears every second of it.”

“He left before you woke up. Surfing with Kyle or something?” She flinched as Gray bit into her skin, “Ugh, fuck, Gray.”

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

Grayson’s voice felt shaky and he wasn’t even talking. His phone screen was dark and he waited impatiently for it to light up, he didn’t have much time, Elsa would be home in almost an hour.

A foreign number popped up and with a shaky hand he slid the bar over and answered it, “Hello?”

“So you’re Grayson? The one my daughter won’t shut up about?” A man laughed on the other line, “It’s nice to... somewhat, meet you.”

“You too, sir.” Grayson had tried to prepare but he didn’t want Elsa to know her dad was calling him. He had snuck her phone, copied the address and sent a short email to him. Days later he was on the phone, soon talking to her dad like they were old friends.

“I’m exhausted.”

“You’ve been on the phone for thirty minutes, what’s that exhausting?” Ethan asked from the other couch, pulling his ear buds out.

“It was Elsa’s dad and I’m trying to plan a surprise for her to see him.” He sighed, “Well I think I just did plan a surprise for her to see him......”

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

They came up with a fake video idea so them filming with Kyle didn’t seem suspicious. Elsa tagged along as they ran a few places just wasting time until her dad had landed.

“Els.”

“I’m not in this video, I’m not doing it...... what?” She asked, holding her own Target bag in hand walking to Ethan’s Jeep.

Grayson took the bag from her and put it in the car, “We just have to run and get Ricky at the airport, Kyle forget he said he’d pick him up.”

“Okay?” She looked at him funny, as if they needed her permission to go somewhere. “I’m literally just here to be here. I have no plans.”

Over an hour later they pulled into the airport parking lot and got out of the car, “Can’t he just walk--

“No we’re going in to get him, it’s a foreign flight and he’s got like three bags and we want to embarrass him with a sign.” He held his hand out and she grabbed onto it, pushing her sunglasses back to hold her messy ponytail in place.

It took everything in him not to shake as they walked towards the airport. He knew Ethan and Kyle were behind them, filming, knowing exactly what was going on.

They all stood at the foreign arrivals gate, Ethan handed a rolled up poster to Elsa and had her hold it up to ‘see if it would fit in frame’. With a lousy smirk she held it up, watching him and Grayson keep backing up until it was all in frame.

“Perfect! Now read the sign!” Grayson yelled, pointing down.

Elsa was ready to read something dumb about Ricky, see an edited photo of him or some practical joke pulled on her but her eyes teared up as she read out loud, “I’ve waited a year to see my dad and I have no idea he’s right behind me.”

Her body froze and she dropped the sign and turned around. Her dad stood before her, Army fatigues and a bouquet of flowers.

The next few minutes was a whirl-wind. She hugged her dad for as long as possible, she cried the most she had in months, she didn’t even remember they were in airport or in public or that she was being filmed until her dad sat her down and said they could probably, “get going now.”

As she wiped her face off she saw Grayson standing next to her dad’s bags, holding her purse she had dropped on the floor with a little smirk on his face. “No way... no... you didn’t...”

“Nice to finally meet you, Grayson. In person.” Her dad stuck his hand out and Grayson shook it.

“In person.. so... wait, what?”

“I’ve talked to him a few times.. on the phone..” He acted cocky for keeping the secret. “Ethan and Kyle went to get the Jeep and your car is almost here. You’ve got dinner reservations with your dad.”

Elsa turned to look at her dad, back to Grayson then back to her dad, “All his idea.” Her dad said, looking at Grayson.

“I can’t believe you.” She hugged him, starting to cry again. “I wanna be mad at you for not telling me but I can’t.”

He squeezed her tight, he felt her cry again, he felt her heart beating fast and could tell it meant everything to her. “He had a week off so we figured something out, you’ve got things all week to do with him.”

“With us, you’re coming with us, right Grayson?” Her dad spoke up.

Elsa nodded her head quickly, “Yes, he is. If he can. Can you?”

“I have a meeting one day but I can probably work the others out.” Elsa squeezed his arm and dug her head into his shoulder, “But dinner tonight is just you two. It’s already paid for. It’s your favorite place.”

They walked to the black SUV waiting outside and talked about the upcoming week, “It’s like two worlds colliding..” Elsa explained, “A good colliding.”

She kept her goodbye with Grayson short and sweet, her dad had never seen her with a boyfriend, let alone one she had been with for a while or one that went to this amount of planning to surprise her.

Grayson went to shake his hand but her dad hugged him, “Thank you, Grayson. For taking care of her.”

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

At midnight Elsa came running into Ethan and Grayson’s house as if someone was chasing her. “Where’s--

“He’s working out.” Ethan mumbled through a bite of food.

She dropped her bag, shoes and whatever she could before rounding the corner and bursting into their workout room. Music was blaring and Grayson was laying on the ground, eyes squinted close as she silently counted sit-ups.

He almost started throwing punches when a body was on top of him, grabbing his face and straddling his chest. “I can’t fucking believe you.”

“Holy shit, bub. I almost hit you.” He sighed in relief, relaxing his muscles as they fell to the floor. “I’m glad you were surprised, I thought you would have figured it out by now.”

“I had zero idea.”

“Good.” He laughed, “Why are you here so late? You have to be up early tomorrow to get--

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“I didn’t want to sleep.”

“I just.”

“I wanted to come say thank you.” Her thumb brushed along his stubbly chin, “So, thank you.”

Grayson’s hands slid up her back and he pulled her down to meet him better, “You’re so very welcome.”

Their lips pulled apart and she couldn’t stop looking at him. The love of her life, had taken his own time, his own money, to give her the best gift of all time. “I still can’t believe--

“Believe it.” He laughed, “None of this is fake.”

Grayson groaned into her mouth as she kissed him again, sliding her body down his. “I know Ethan’s coming in here to run so please let’s go to my room or literally anywhere else but here.” He quickly said, sitting up with her on his lap.

She didn’t answer, she kept kissing him and he kept kissing back. “You’re going to be mad....” He tried to talk, “If Ethan walks in here.”

“I don’t even care if my dad asks why I arrive to breakfast with you tomorrow or if I’m wearing your shirt as a dress, I’m staying here tonight.”

idk how to end this bye

#me #mine #grayson dolan #grayson #dolan #dolan twins #surprise #military #fanfic #imagine #edit #dt #dating grayson #writing #write

171 notes · View notes