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everlarkficexchange · 4 years

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I Choose You

Written by: @wendywobbles

Prompt 51: Katniss E, the Valedictorian of Panem High school, is perfect in all fields of life. And that is the crush of awkward, average in studies, not so popular, never had a girlfriend, often bullied Peeta M. Not only does she have a very popular friend circle but also a handsome, popular boyfriend Gale H. Will she even want to be his friend? Is his crush doomed to fail? Eventual Everlark) [submitted by @white-dandelion-seeds]

AN: I hope I did your prompt proud. The title comes from a Sara Bareilles song that I love.

——————————————-

Peeta Mellark walked quietly in the door and leaned against the wall at the school assembly. He hated these things. Being trapped here for an hour while Principal Trinket droned on and on about what was coming up in the next semester was hell.

They had just returned from their autumn break and Peeta was counting the days down until this last year of school was finished. His experience in Panem 12th Region school had been long, dull and miserable.

Not for the first time he wondered if his dad had lived how his life would have turned out. Would he have been a popular jock with lots of friends and confidence instead of a feeling like a ghost in these hallways? He hoped college would be different. As far as he knew none of the dicks from his year would be attending Capitol U.

He had no idea what Trinket was talking about but he became aware the second the speaker changed……Katniss Everdeen was at the podium and saying hello to everyone. Instantly he paid attention.

Katniss Everdeen was in Peeta Mellark’s eyes the most perfect woman to ever walk the earth. She had long dark hair, clear olive skin and grey eyes.

She was a distance runner for the Panem 12th Region Athletics team. She trained hard , Peeta knew this because he had often seen her running in the early hours of the morning when it was his early shift at the Bakery or sometimes he would see her on the trails when he was out running she always had a smile and wave for him as they passed.

Her grades were always high, again Peeta knew this was down to hard work and not just luck.

Sometimes he would see her at the library when he was hiding out avoiding Cato and the other Jays and his maths whizz brother Leon had been tutoring her since last year.

She has a quiet confidence, and strength that just drew people to her and had a wide circle of friends but would make time for everyone whether it was a quick hello or a longer more in-depth chat. It was no wonder when she ran for student council she was elected president.

With a confident smile the object of Peeta’s affection began to speak

“Hi all! Hope everyone had a wonderful break, I know I did. Principal Trinket has given me a few minutes of the assembly today to talk about our Winter Formal. This year we are looking to do something a bit different and we are hoping that you guys will help us come up with a theme. This is the last 12th Region dance some of us will attend and we would love to make this something a bit special, but right now our ideas aren’t hitting the mark and I know that there are so many talented and creative individuals here so we’d love to hear from you.”

She looked behind her and Annie Cresta, her Vice President, handed her a cardboard box covered in silver paper. She held it up for all to see

“Okay, I know this probably looks a bit basic but this box will be left in library until next Friday. If you have an idea put it in. We will then post the suggestions online and then we can vote for our favourite. Easy right? I can’t wait to see what people come up with.”

“Thanks for listening and don’t forget Friday is the big Game against D13’s Coin Cavaliers and once again the 12th Region’s very own Mockingjays are out to destroy them. Show you school spirit by wearing black and orange. Go Jays!”

All around Peeta students began to cheer, he just rolled his eyes and slipped quietly away.

*********

For the rest of the day school was buzzing with excitement for the game and Katniss announcement. Peeta was glad when his final class was over and headed to his locker to collect his bag.

“Hey Bread Boy” called Johanna Mason, a short shaved head girl that somehow had become one of Peeta’s closest and dearest friends

“Yes Jo?”

“So are you making any suggestions for the Winter Formal? I’ve got mine in – Roller Disco with night vision goggles. Great, huh?”

“Seriously Jo? I mean while I can certainly appreciate the theme, how exactly would a person fund all those glasses……” he smiled.

“I’m the ideas woman, the reality is her ladyship and her minions area of work…speaking of which. Anyway I gotta go, see you later handsome “ and with that Jo sprinted away.

Peeta looked up and saw Katniss Everdeen walking down the corridor. She was carrying an armful of books, a bag and a bottle of water, had an apple wedged in her mouth and her shoe lace was beginning to open on her ever present black Cons. Peeta was thinking how this looked like an accident waiting to happen when Katniss reached up to take the apple out of her mouth, stepped on her now undone shoe lace and tripped herself up sending everything flying.

“Katniss! Oh my god are you okay?” Peeta was by her side in a flash and quickly helped her right herself.

Surprisingly she burst out laughing “Oh my god! I can’t believe that just happened. Thanks Peeta, I’m ok.” He started to help her pick up her stuff when Gale Hawthorne appeared.

“Katniss? What happened? You ok?” concern was all over his features.

“Fine, fine I tripped Peeta was just helping me collect my stuff.”

Gale nodded but proceeded to take the books Peeta had in his arms “Well I’m here now. Mellark you can …go do whatever it is you do. I got this.”

Peeta felt his face flame but kept his mouth shut previous experience had thought him that answering back to people like Gale usually ended up badly for people like Peeta.

“Sure. Whatever” he mumbled and moved to step away.

Katniss meanwhile shot Gale a glance that would have felled a lesser man, but Peeta imagined as Katniss’ boyfriend Gale was probably used to her looks so he just ignored her.(Imagine being able to ignore Katniss thought Peeta)

“Thanks again Peeta. Hey before you go, do you have the details of the English assignment? I can’t find where I wrote it down.”

“Sure, hold on” Peeta rummaged in his backpack and pulled out a notebook. He pulled out a sheet and copied the details onto the paper for her.

“Ummm here you go” he said handing it over.

“Katniss? Are you ready I’ll carry this stuff to your car” huffed Gale.

“Go ahead I’ll be right there. I just want to check something with Peeta” She called without looking at Gale.

“I’ll wait.”

“Dunderhead” muttered Katniss under her breath so that only Peeta could hear her, keeping her voice low she began to speak “Um I was wondering if you were going to submit any ideas for the dance. When we were kids I remember you always had a great imagination.”

Peeta blinked and stared and Katniss “Um no. I don’t….I mean I’m not interested in that kinda thing you know. I’ve never even been to a school dance.”

“Oh…right. Sorry I just, I guess I’ll see you in class or something.” Katniss seemed embarrassed and Peeta wanted to die. This was how he spoke to the girl of his dreams….Leon was right he was an idiot.

As she turned to walk away he called after her “Wait! I may not have an idea but um I’m pretty good at art and design maybe,I mean if you needed it, I could help you guys work on pulling it altogether?” he rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

“That would be fantastic! I know you’re headed to Capitol U next year to begin a Fine Art Degree so absolutely we would love your help.” Katniss smile was a mile wide as she said all this.

“Ok. Well keep me posted. Oh and Katniss you should probably tie your shoelace” Peeta smiled and her and began to walk away. It was only as he turned the corner he realised something. He had never mentioned getting into Capitol U …how had Katniss known that?

********

“So what did you need from Mellark?” asked Gale.

“Gale you were standing right there when I was talking to him - English homework and he’s offered to help with the dance.” said Katniss taking her bag from Gale. She reached down to grab the apple that she dropped and popped it in a bin as she walked by.

“Help how? Loser never goes to anything school related.”

“So? What has that got to do with anything? And he’s not a loser. Look Gale we need help with this dance and I’m happy to have someone like Peeta come on board-“

Gale cut her off “ Ooh I get it now, you get the nerdy runt to do all the work and you take the credit.”

“Shut up Gale. When have I EVER treated anyone like that? I can’t believe you would even think I would do that.”

“Oh relax, it’s High School not the real world.”

Sometimes Katniss goody two shoes attitude really annoyed Gale. Kill or be killed that was Gale’s motto(not literally of course) but sometimes you had to be ruthless on and off the field.

“Let me make it up too you… how about a movie?”

“Can’t I have to get home to help dad. I’ll round up the gang maybe we can all go see something on Saturday?”

Frustrated Gale rolled his eyes before responding “Katniss I meant …..”

Katniss knew exactly what he meant and after going out a few times two years ago, Katniss wasn’t going down that road again, Gale however still thought they were perfect for each other and was always trying to get her to agree to a date.

Katniss blundered on pretending not to have heard him “It’ll be a fun way for everyone to relax after Friday’s game. I’ll text everyone later unless you want to do it?”

Gale clenched his jaw frustrated at Katniss he wanted to say something more when his phone rang. It was Cato.

“I’m late for practice. Talk to you later” and Gale took off running towards the sports field.

A grateful Katniss watched Gale sprint away, glad of the reprieve from his hints and outright declarations that they would make the perfect couple.

She hopped into her car and got ready to head home, when out of the corner of her eye she saw the hunched figure of Peeta Mellark walking out and heading towards town, she watched him til he was out of sight.

There was something about Peeta that made Katniss want to get to know him better but the blue eyed blond boy kept himself to himself. She had has crush on him since the first day of school when he drew her a picture of her teddy bear.

She smiled recalling how upset she was being separated from her bear and was missing him something terrible on her first day. Seeing her tears Peeta had marched up to her pencil in hand and asked her what he looked like and under her guidance had drawn a pretty good depiction of Snowball Abernathy.

Katniss still had the drawing; her dad had laminated it years go and she used it as book mark. The bear was also still knocking around, slightly bedraggled, more grey then white these day but still loved.

She sighed remembering a time when they were younger and Peeta was much more open. It all changed when his dad died though he seemed to retreat from childhood.

********

Katniss knew from Peeta’s older brother Leon that it hadn’t been easy after Mr M had died.

She had met Leon when her parents hired him to help her with her maths. Leon was like a skinnier less good looking Peeta. He was in college locally hoping to be a teacher and he loved maths and tutored a few kids.

As Katniss and he worked together they became more friendly.He was kind and funny and talkative.

When Katniss got accepted to Capitol U to study Engineering she was overjoyed and then Leon told her Peeta had been accepted to CU too.

“That’s amazing! What program? I wonder if we’ll run into each other. That would be cool.” Katniss gushed. She was practically vibrating at this piece of news.

And had completely forgotten who she was talking too. She couldn’t stop the blush that crept up her face.

Leon felt a grin spreading over his face “Careful Everdeen or I might think you have a crush on my baby brother……oh my god you do!!!”

That was a few weeks ago and Leon kept encouraging her to talk to Peeta and teasing her that if she let the year pass without saying anything he would tell Peeta before graduation.

Katniss knew though her secret was safe. Leon was very protective of Peeta, and from what Leon had told her-and what she knew from the past herself and gossip- the death of Mr Mellark had hit the whole family hard.

The oldest Mellark brother Sean had taken over running the place full time (this had always been the plan but the death of Sean Snr meant things moved a lot quicker). He quit full time college and moved home.

Leon and Peeta helped out but right after her husband died Mrs Mellark seemed to “disappear” leaving Sean 20, Leon 16 and Peeta 13 to carry on.

The older boys tried to stay on top of everything.- the house, the business, school even dealing with their mom- but their home life was chaotic following in the weeks following their fathers death.

It was a lot to cope with, and they tried to do it all without any help - scared that if they let people know what was going on their family would be further torn apart.

Katniss remembered when Peeta came to school in the same hoodie for 5 days –not really a big deal but Cato Snow grabbed this and began to tease Peeta.

“Hey Smellark. Don’t you have any CLEAN clothes?”

His goons soon joined in for weeks whenever they could get Peeta alone they went at him, they pushed him, squirted hand sanitizer on him, threw water on him.

Some of the other kids tried to tell Cato to stop but no one wanted to make themselves a target so most just ignored what was going on. Katniss did too, and the memory still pained her.

It all came to a head one Monday afternoon Peeta finally snapped and swung at Cato. Peeta may have been quiet and smaller then the others but in the past number of weeks a fire had raged in him.

This particular Monday Cato had decided that Peeta needed a hair cut and got Tom Marvel and Derek Blight to hold him down and started to hack at Peeta’s hair.

It was the final straw for Peeta, to this day no one knows exactly how he did it but Peeta got loose and punched Cato busting his nose, the sight of the blood caused Marvel to flee. Blight wasn’t quick enough and Peeta managed to leave him with a black eye. Peeta picked up his bag and left the school vowing to never return.

While this was going on, an anonymous tip off was left with a children’s care charity begging them to check on the Mellark’s. A young case worker Finnick Odair took the call and hearing how distressed the girl in the end of the call was decided to make a house call.

He met a shaken, tattered Peeta at the house on the front step.

“Hey kid? You ok?”

And for the first time since his dad died and the bullying began Peeta cried and his story just tumbled out

Finnick met with the rest of the family. Mrs. Mellark was very obviously depressed, the boys were grieving but had no time to process everything that was happening as they desperately tried to keep things going. A decision was made to contact Mrs Mellark mother, Sae.

She arrived in a day and scolded her grandsons for not calling her sooner and hugged the life out of them.

She sought out her daughter and held her close as she wept and wept.

Then the five of them sat on the sofa together and Sae told Finnick she was sticking around for as long as was needed and he helped her to find the help her family needed.

Peeta however refused to talk about what had happened and wouldn’t confirm the bullying. He hoped by keeping his mouth shut Cato would leave him alone. (It hadn’t. Although Cato no longer actively sought him out he still tormented him)

When Peeta returned to school a few days later people seemed to give him a wide berth the story of his Hulk like anger had scared people. It made him sad.

When he went to his locker he found a bag there and inside was a paper dandelion, a packet of coloring pencils and notebook.

Peeta was confused and wary but the yellow flower was the first thing he remembered seeing in color; since his dad died life had just been grey. He smiled, just a small one but somehow this flower made him feel something he hadn’t felt in a long time -hope.

********

On Friday the school was buzzing. Peeta had on a black tee shirt and orange cons showing his school spirit.

He had noticed Katniss that morning in her black skinny jeans, a Jays orange jersey, black oversized cardigan, in her braided hair there was an orange ribbon and on her feet a pair of orange cons. He smiled when he saw them.

He was just slipping to class when she called him

“Hey Peeta! Look we’re foot twins.” She bounded over to him and stood toe to toe with him. His heart was pounding.

She pulled out her phone “Can I take a picture?” and she aimed her camera down before clicking a few snaps.

“I think yours look better” she smiled and looked up at him, suddenly aware how close she was to him.

“I’m sorry Peeta I’m such and space invader” she stepped back “like I was saying yours look better, they have that lived in Cons look, mine are brand new they need breaking in. I’m gonna put this on Instagram, want me to tag you?”

“Why? Why would you tag me? I mean we’re not exactly friends, besides I don’t think Gale or his friends would appreciate any part of me appearing on your feed. I have to go Katniss.” Peeta smiled sadly and walked away.

Katniss couldn’t understand what she had said or done but she quickly deleted the post.

********

When the dance committee opened the silver box they found a good deal of papers, half though were filled with utter rubbish- crude drawing, bits of gum wrapped in the paper and some downright dangerous suggestions -roller skating with night vision goggles???

The most surprising thing was that even though the students had been given free reign most were standard dance ideas. According to Delly Cartwright this was because despite claims to want to express themselves and be individuals most teenagers just wanted to blend in and follow the herd, and in the end there were only five familiar themes to choose from.

1. Winter Wonderland/Snow Ball /Yule Ball

2. Once Upon a Time(Fairytales and stories)

3. Enchanted Forest or Magical Garden

4. Candy land

5. Masquerade Ball

Students were just handed a ballot paper and asked to vote for their favourite and with the result revealed at the following weeks assembly.

The winning theme in the end was the Enchanted Forest, and Katniss was secretly thrilled. Now the theme was picked it was time for the hard work to begin, and time to see if Peeta was ready to join the dance committee.

********

Peeta and Jo were sitting on one of the benches outside the school when Katniss walked over.

“Hey” she called

Peeta waved, Jo gave a nod.

“Peeta, if that offer to help out with the dance is still on the table the dance committee is meeting tomorrow after school to get things moving. I was wondering if you’d like to come along and get an idea of budget, how we can pull off the theme and if we can actually make something out of nothing” Katniss joked.

“I don’t know Katniss-“ but before he could finish Jo interrupted

“He’ll be there. What time and can I help too? My dad owns the forest out past Turn 4. He might be able to help with some stuff for decoration.”

“Ok, well we be in Room 17 from about 4 pm and Jo it would be great to have more help. I’ll leave you guys to it then. Bye”

As she walked away she missed the glare Peeta threw at Jo and the grin that spread across her face.

“What? You have been crazy about her for years. Now’s you chance to woo her” grinned Jo

“She has a scary boyfriend or did you forget that? A boyfriend who has no issue with beating a guy like me and might I add he has the connections to dispose of me where no one can find me.” He muttered darkly

“I dunno I know what people say but, I don’t think they are a couple….. anyway never mind that it’ll be at least one fun memory we’ll have of going to this place before we head to Capitol.”

********

Over the next few weeks Peeta’s life and routine took on a different one. The initial meeting of the dance committee had been nerve wracking but the other members, along with Katniss made him and Jo feel very welcome.

Peeta was wary at first but there was no punchline, he wasn’t a joke to anyone and surprisingly he started to enjoy the meetings.

The other members Annie Cresta, Thom Dalton, Brian Turner or Beetee as he was known, Delly Cartwright and Cecelia Hubert were a mixed but fun group.

“Hey Peeta, can you take a look at this?” Katniss called

“What’s up?” he asked.

“This…. I think I did it wrong…..it looks..” they two of them tilted their heads looking at the mess in front of them Katniss was supposed to be making centre pieces from twigs adorned with lights, and flowers.

“I think you’ve glued things on upside down, it’s okay we’ll fix it” he tried not to laugh. Katniss was the least crafty person he had ever met.

“I like the arch way, you’ve made it look really spectacular, it will make the entrance look so special. You have really helped us to set the theme, you and Jo.”

“Well you know us art nerds” Peeta mumbled as he undid some of Katniss handiwork.

“I don’t….but I’d like too” Katniss whispered in a low voice.

Peeta didn’t dare to look at her but kept going with what he was doing. He wasn’t sure what to say. He took a deep breath and prepared to ask her what she meant when suddenly the door burst open and there stood Gale, Cato and the other Jays players.

Gale was wearing what looked like doctors scrubs while the others were dressed in tacky sexy nurse outfits that no nurse in their right mind could wear and work in.

“Hey Katniss”

Peeta would swear he felt Katniss stiffen beside him, then she took a deep breath and turned to look(along with the rest of the room)

Gale unravelled his sign which said “I’m no doctor but it appears you’re suffering from DATELESSNESS. My suggestion is…..” meanwhile the rest held up signs that read “A date with Gale?” And “What more could you want?” And “A dose of Vitamin G!”

“No!” she shouted and the laughter and shouts of the Jays stopped.

“Just no! I told you this last night, the night before. You NEVER listen to me? I don’t want to date you or even go to the dance with you. I’ve tried being polite but it’s gotten me no where, please leave me alone and stop this. I’m not your girlfriend. I don’t want to be. Just stop”

“You selfish b-“ Gale started towards Katniss but Peeta stepped in front of her.

“I wouldn’t take another step or utter another word Hawthorne. Just take your guys and go. Or would you like me to call Miss Trinket?” Peeta’s voice was low and calm. Thom and Beetee had stood up too and walked towards Katniss and Peeta.

“Or what Smellark?” spat Gale.

“Funny, real funny but I think after 4 years you guys could have gotten a bit more creative with your insults. Cato, why don’t you take Gale and the guys and leave. Katniss has refused Gale’s offer, there is nothing else to be said.”

In the crowd of guys a few looked angry but others just looked confused about what had gone on. Had Gale really been hassling Katniss? He made it sound like she had wanted this big fuss but what if she hadn’t? The team started to move away and soon the room was cleared.

“Umm thanks guys…now where were we?”

“Hey Everdeen, I thought that guy was your boyfriend?” asked Jo confused by what had happened.

“Nope. Never was, never will be. He’s never been my type” Katniss smiled

“Interesting…..and would you type maybe be a little less male perhaps?” teased Jo much to the amusement of the others

“Sorry Jo, I’m not into girls, but I do know that Delly happens to think you are real cute.” And with a shocked squeak from Delly the whole committee burst into giggles.

Once everyone had settled down Katniss walked over to Peeta.

“Hey Peeta? Thanks for what you did for me with Gale. I don’t know why he has to act like that you know?”

“Katniss it’s ok really. I’ll walk you to your car after we’re done here if you want? In case he’s still around.”

“Thanks, but I should be ok. Right I better get these to Annie.” She nodded her head at the closed box in her hands that she had picked up from somewhere.

“What’s in it?

“Flowers! I may not be much good at making centerpieces but if you need a paper flower I’m your girl” she grinned as she said this “open the box and have a look.”

Peeta’s stomach dropped when he opened the box there were daisies, roses and right at the top yellow dandelions like the one given to him all those years ago.

“Peeta? Are you ok?” a worried Katniss asked.

“Yeah. Sorry just zoned out. These are really pretty. I better get back to the trees.”

Peeta worked quietly for rest of the hour to trying to figure out why Katniss had given him the flower all those years ago and the pencils and notebook which became his companions. In the notebook he drew his fears, his hopes covering every page and when it was full his mom bought him a new one. Even now he always had a notebook in his bag.

“Peeta? Can I give you a lift home?” asked Katniss Peeta startled at her voice he looked around and was slightly shocked to see they were the last people there. He hadn’t heard the others leave.

“Ok.” He shrugged and gathered up his stuff.

“Katniss? Can I ask you something?” Peeta was nervous but he needed to know why she did what she did.

“Sure.” She nodded

“After…. the Cato incident there was a paper flower and art stuff left in my locker. Did you do that?”

He watched her hands tighten around the steering wheel and she took a deep breath before she answered.

“Yes. I just wanted to give you something nice you know. Those guys were so mean and the rest of us should’ve done more, told the teachers. I watched you almost disappear and I hated that the light in your eyes dimmed so much. Your family was going through so much.”

“You were just a kid Katniss,it’s ok. Really. We got help. As a family we’ve survived. What else could you have done?” He reached over and put his hand on hers, it was awkward in the car but he wanted -no needed- her to know that he was ok.

“Your flower gave me hope, gave my life some color at a time when I had none. Thank you for seeing me, at a time when I felt no one did.”

“I always saw you Peeta.” She was looking at him now Peeta wanted to look away her gaze was almost too intense.

“You’re a painter. You’re a baker. You like to sleep with the windows open. You are the noisiest walker I have ever heard. And you always double-knot your shoelaces.”

“I know these things because I’ve always watched you and yes I know that’s crazy and I sound like a stalker but I need you to know this because we’re going away to college soon and I would like to at least be your friend but what I really want is to know you better and Leon knows and he told me that if I didn’t tell you I liked you he would.”

“Slow down… what?”

“I like you. A lot. Your stupid brother found out and has been teasing me. He said he would tell you before I could especially since we’re going to be at the same college next year. If you just want a friend that’s fine but I would really like to go on a date so you could get to know me…. and then…..well who knows….”

“Okay.”

“Okay like let’s go on a date or like I’m going to get out of car and run away?”

“The first one.”

**********

And so they had their first date 2 nights later.

And their first kiss that night too.

Peeta asked Katniss to be his girlfriend on their third date.

They went to their dance together and danced under the canopy of trees and flowers they had helped create.

They had their first fight when Peeta struggled to understand what a girl like Katniss saw in him. He questioned why? He kept expecting things to fall apart and doubted what they had was real.

Eventually his mom took him aside and told him that his problems were bigger then him and a professional would be better placed to help him.

“You deserve happiness Peeta,let us help you find it.”

He started seeing Dr Aurelius with Katniss, his family and friends supporting him every step of the way.

He told Katniss he loved her one evening when they were in her parent’s house. They were watching a stupid movie and she was laughing. He watched her eyes crinkle, her chuckles ringing in the air as she sat there in a panda onesie and he blurted it out.

She smiled at him and throwing her arms around his neck she told him the same, placing tiny kisses all over his face.

And then they graduated. The one person who didn’t was Cato Snow who was expelled following a positive drug test and several reports of bullying.

Gale never spoke to Katniss again.

A few of the Mockingjays team had apologized for their part in the dance proposal telling Katniss they had believed Gale when he told them that it was her idea.

Neither wanted to go to the end of year dance, instead they went with some of their friends to a small cabin by a lake and had a quiet celebration.

And later, in the quiet of the night after they had spent time having their own private celebration. Katniss sang to Peeta

Let the bough break, let it come down crashing

Let the sun fade out to a dark sky

I can’t say I’d even notice it was absent

‘Cause I could live by the light in your eyes

I’ll unfold before you

Would have strung together

The very first words of a lifelong love letter

Tell the world that we finally got it all right

I choose you

I will become yours and you will become mine

I choose you

I choose you, yeah

There was a time when I would have believed them

If they told me that you could not come true

Just love’s illusion

But then you found me

And everything changed

And I believe in something again

My whole heart

Will be yours forever

This is a beautiful start

To a lifelong love letter

Tell the world that we finally got it all right

I choose You

I will become yours and you will become mine

I choose You

We are not perfect we’ll learn from our mistakes

And as long as it takes I will prove my love to you

I am not scared of the elements I am underprepared,

But I am willing

And even better

I get to be the other half of you

Tell the world that we finally got it all right

I choose You, yeah

I will become yours and you will become mine

I choose You

She had just finished and Peeta was about to say something when Johanna shouted.

“Seriously?? It was bad enough listening to you two screwing each other senseless now I have to hear you sing?! Keep this up and you’ll have to find a new roommate!”

After their laughter subsided Peeta turned to Katniss and whispering quietly he said.

“I choose you too. Always.”

#Springtime Edition 2020 #wendywobbles #white-dandelion-seeds #prompt 51 #early submission #submission

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foxofthedesert · 5 years

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Arrow FF | Dinah x Laurel | A Christmas Miracle

A Christmas Miracle, Part 1 - The Pursuit (Click to read on AO3)

Winter has arrived in earnest to Star City, a little late to the party but right on time for the main event. The holidays are right around the corner. Literally. Christmas Eve is already fading into history along with the setting sun.

After a benign autumn, meteorologists had predicted this season would be Northern California cold at worst, which is to say mild compared to the rest of the country with temperatures hovering between the high forties and fifties. Up til now, they'd been spot on with their forecasts. Unfortunately their crystal balls ran out of juice yesterday while today a never ending assembly line of huge gray clouds rolls is currently lazily by, announcing more of the same dreary, wintry weather. If Dinah didn't know better, she'd think it was about to snow. In Coastal California.

Teeth chattering, she tugs her coat tighter around her shoulders to ward off the chill of an uncommonly cold afternoon. This is exactly the kind of shitty weather she thought she left behind when Central City was firmly in her rear view mirror. California was supposed to be sunny and warm, or so said the movies. Well, from where Dinah stands they were lying because she is a bundled up in several layers, a thick coat and scarf atop a sweater and tee with mittens on her hands and woolly socks on her feet, just like she always used to in Missouri.

Dammit. And I just had to wear jeans. Oh well, at least my boots are keeping my toes from freezing.

Cursing the weather and her own foolish choice to be out it in when she doesn't have to be, Dinah curls her shoulders in, stuffs her hands into her coat pockets, and soldiers on. She is on mission right now and has no time to feel sorry for herself.

The sidewalks of the Triangle are bustling with activity in spite of the cold and the waxing evening hour. Shoppers flitting about care little for the rules of polite etiquette in their single-minded pursuit of last minute gifts for their friends and loved ones. Others are meandering aimlessly about, stopping every now and then to gawk at the intrepid shops that bothered to put up decorations or lights or both. Others still have their heads down like Dinah, trying to blend in with the crowd and filter through on their way home or to their jobs. That Dinah's motive for laying low is far less innocuous is beside the point.

Earlier this afternoon she got a surprise call from the District Attorney's office informing her of a prosecutorial change for a current case. Not just any current case, either, but one involving a corrupt, insanely powerful chemical manufacturer based in Gotham which had spread its disease into Star City while the government was occupied preventing one disaster after another. For the better part of a month, Dinah has been grinding through evidence and conducting interview after interview with the one and only Laurel Lance. Since the beginning Laurel has been her partner in overseeing the Ace Chemical case and they were really just hitting their stride on it when the rug got pulled out from underneath her feet. Finally after months of tedious police work and highly stressful court appearances, the CEO and a bevy of her criminally corrupt lapdogs all guilty as sin of dumping toxic waste in the Triangle right on the outskirts of a school zone were fixing to go to jail. Dinah had thought Laurel would want to see it through seeing as she put as many grueling hours in than Dinah has, if not more, ensuring all the I's were dotted and ever T was crossed. With one call from A.D.A Martinez, Dinah was dispelled of that notion and it caught her completely off guard.

The case being pawned off to the longest tenured A.D.A. would not have sat so wrong with Dinah if it hadn't seemed to be as intensely personal to Laurel as it is to her. Normally Laurel Lance acted the prototype of a picture perfect D.A.: a bulldog who is always in control in the courtroom, professional to a fault in the office, and able to politic with the best of them. This case was different, though, even more so than when Laurel went to bat for Oliver while he was still stuck in Slabside. She was burning the midnight oil like never before and spent more hours with Dinah at SCPD going over investigative and arrest reports over and over again until they both had just about memorized them to the letter. Also Laurel's intensity levels were constantly through the roof, and that was saying something considering she is, in every avenue of her life, perpetually cut throat and high strung. Laurel often chastises her staff for no good reason, such as failure to include one minor detail in a relatively inconsequential report due for filing, which is par for the course for a hothead with a combative streak as wide as the Space Needle is tall. But she never did so publicly until working this case. Only last week when one of her paralegals forgot to pass on an innocuous enough message from a DAI, she berated him in front of half the office so badly the poor kid burst into tears, so traumatized that he fled work early and missed the entire next day as well. Once the outrage ebbed, Laurel actually confessed to Dinah that she felt intense guilt over her treatment of that employee.

Laurel Lance. Formerly of Black Siren notoriety. Felt guilty for hurting an underling's feelings. That alone told Dinah how important this case was to Laurel. That she went on to say that this was the first case she'd worked on since assuming Earth-Prime Laurel's life that she categorically refused to lose. Once she went on a bender working on the case, refusing any and all attempts by her employees to get her to go home. Finally after thirty-six hours they called in the cavalry.

"All those people that soulless, greedy bitch made sick deserve justice," Laurel had told Dinah upon being confronted about her obsessive, incredibly unhealthy behavior. "And I'm gonna get it for them. If that means I don't sleep until I get a guilty verdict, then so be it."

If Dinah hadn't put her foot down, she's pretty sure Laurel would have made good on that promise. As it was, she had to all but drag Laurel out of the Court House into the parking garage and then deposit the District Attorney in her shiny new Lexus with perhaps a little less gentleness than was called for.

The point of all this is that Dinah is worried – a lot – about Laurel shrugging off a responsibility she has been obsessing about so religiously over the past two months. Worried that something is wrong or worse, that Laurel has at last fallen off the reformation wagon. Dinah sort of hates herself for jumping to such a cynical conclusion, but there it is. Sometimes those old feelings of bitter acrimony crop up and taint the progress she has made with her former enemy.

Enemy. There's a word Dinah hasn't associated with Laurel in almost two years. Since they teamed up with Felicity to free Oliver from Slabside, she and Laurel have made such significant strides that she would consider Laurel her closest female friend. Which is still sort of shocking when she actually sits down and thinks about where they came from to arrive at what she would categorize as as intimate a friendship as she is capable of forming. No one could have predicted the turn their relationship would take thanks to Felicity's meddling, least of all Dinah, who had once believed the aptly utilized designation of frenemies would be the best she could ever attain with the woman who killed the man she loved. Yet here she is, wading through a sea of people on the streets in ass-clenching cold just to make sure Laurel is alright when she could be at home bundled up on the couch in her favorite blanket sipping on hot cocoa. And it's Christmas Eve for Christ's sake! That alone speaks volumes about how much she actually cares for Laurel.

What's even more amazing is that there is not a shred of doubt in her heart of mind that Laurel feels the same for her. Of course, there is some cause to call that into question, or at least to redefine what care means from Laurel's end. Of late, Dinah has been getting these weird vibes from Laurel, who has started looking at her and even treating her differently than she used to before they tackled this case together. Ordinarily that would be a bothersome development. Except the change is not in a negative direction. If anything, Laurel has been noticeably more attentive and considerate, which when combined with those vibes produce strange feelings and urges in Dinah she has yet to figure out the meaning behind. And that's not to mention what she is supposed to do about this sudden spike of awkward, nervous, excited energy that buzzes between them whenever they are in the same room together. There is a word for it, she is sure, though right now she is not prepared to break out her dictionary so that she can officially print the term on a label to slap upon the deeply complicated relationship she shares with Laurel Lance.

That said, not yet being ready to face what her subconscious has been screaming at her is going on but her conscious has been deliberately and stubbornly annoying does not preclude Dinah from springing into action whenever Laurel starts acting wonky. Such as today when she dropped a case they were both so passionate about for no reason this morning and then inexplicably cut out of work after lunch without so much as an explanation to her immediate subordinate beyond a clipped response, "Worry less about what I'm doing with my afternoon and more about closing this case. Your future here depends on it."

Since getting the call from A.D.A. Martinez, Dinah has been unable to shake a feeling in her gut that something is going on. Something she should be concerned about. So she did what she does best. Pulled rank at the precinct and decided to indulge her nosy side. Leaning upon all she has learned as a vigilante and as a cop, she stalked Laurel on the traffic cams to the street she is currently plodding down, having covered six blocks already, only to lose sight of her at the intersection of Weisinger and Papp. There is only one significant place of interest Dinah can think of at that location, and she cannot for the life of her figure out what Laurel would be doing there. Her gut feeling tells her to follow through, though, so she complies without further complaint other than some more grumbling about the weather.

Upon rounding the corner, Dinah spots the homeless shelter, the city's second largest, and trudges down the sidewalk towards the entrance. Foot traffic here has dwindled down to a negligible amount. Only the inhabitants of the shelter and what few individuals are willing to brave being seen among such a lowly, somewhat dangerous element. Such as Laurel. For whatever reason…

Once perpendicular from the shelter, Dinah quickly cuts across the street when the street traffic gives her a pause. She gives no thought to the fact she, a police captain, has just blatantly broken the law. Jaywalking isn't the first misdemeanor she's committed today and probably won't be the last. Now on the correct side of the street, she picks around the exterior of the shelter until she finds a bedraggled older man perched on a cinder block just inside the alleyway on the east side of the building. Prepared for just this opportunity, she pulls out her badge and then the stock photo of Laurel she'd snatched off her desk.

"Calm down," she says to the startled man warily eyeing her badge – former military judging by his close cropped hair, rigid posture, and army surplus jacket. "I'm not here to arrest you. Or anyone else. What's your name?"

He exhales, fiddling with an exotic, expensive looking watch on his wrist that seems off beyond it being worn by someone without means to purchase it. A second later he offers her a shaky nod, then responds, "Name's Marv."

"Nice to meet you, Marv. I'm Dinah." Dinah's eyes are again drawn to the strange watch, only to have it quickly hidden under a well worn jacket sleeve. For a split second she considers pressing about how a homeless vet came by such an extravagant piece of a bling, only to change her mind in favor of an expedient end to her mission to find out what the hell Laurel is doing here. Now that proper introductions are made, she doesn't feel bad about thrusting the photo of Laurel in his face. "Have you, by chance, seen this woman this afternoon?"

"Yep. That's Dinah. Been here every day this week. First time before eight, though."

Brows searching for her hairline, Dinah almost comments on the name Laurel gave out before she remembers that it actually is Laurel's name. Dinah Laurel Lance. Whose mother's maiden name was Dinah Drake. The synchronicity of those facts alone are enough to keep Dinah awake at night. When factoring in all that conspired to throw them into a collision course trajectory, which they somehow survived only to be caught up in a mutual orbit, she can't help but feel there is some unknown force at work. Call it fate, kismet, destiny or any other whimsical designation, something out there clearly wants her and Laurel close to each other, and Dinah isn't sure how she feels about that. Well, that's a lie. She knows how she feels, just doesn't want to admit it – even to herself.

"What's she doing coming here every night?" she asks around the lump in her throat that often forms when thinking about Laurel. When the man she's questioning shoots her a dryly outraged glare, she quickly amends herself. "Not that I'm judging. Just curious."

Marv accepts her apology with a shrug of his broad shoulders. "No sweat. I was a little skeptical too when she started comin' to help the staff and residents – ya know, pitchin' in where she can. Cookin' and cleanin' and all that domestic shit. Done some electrical repair work that needed doin'. Good at it, too. Also did most of the decorating for Christmas. Real talented gal."

Dinah's eyebrows shoot up into her hair line. Laurel Lance cooking and cleaning and fixing stuff and...decorating for Christmas? She fights the urge to pinch herself to make sure she isn't dreaming.

Marv laughs at her expression. "Don't blame ya lookin' that way. When she pulled up in that fancy car and came stridin' through the doors in that expensive suit, I figured she was some politician out for a photo op or somethin'. Only never was no cameras or reporters around and she outworked everybody the four hours she was here. And the next time she showed up, she dressed down for the occasion. To fit in better, ya know? Worn out tee, ripped jeans, nose ring, hair braided up nice and tight. Got down in the trenches without a single complaint. Nothin' like the high class bitch that strutted her fancy ass into a world she don't belong in. Nah. Figured out right quick she belonged alright. Just hides it real good out there." He indicates toward the wider world by a tip of the chin. "Good heart in that one, too. She don't know I know, but she's helped more'n a few us land jobs that start up after the Holidays. Like Jordie and Lew. I, uh, I'm one of 'em, too. Asked the guy who hired me why he did it. Wouldn't say anything except a pretty lady who has a way with words convinced him to give me a chance, that he wouldn't regret it. I knew who it was just like that." He snaps his fingers to accentuate the point.

Dinah hardly knows what to say to what she's heard. Never has she been given a less Laurel-like description, and yet she can sense beyond all doubt that she is being told the truth. The paradox being presented to her is confusing as all hell, and it only incites her curiosity into irresistible fascination. Another layer of the Laurel onion is being peeled away right before her very eyes and she is a captive audience spellbound at the unraveling.

"Wow. Uh...I have to say that surprises me," she says after a brief moment of speechlessness. "That doesn't sound like the Lau -" she stops herself short of giving out Laurel's name out of respect for her privacy, "Dinah I know."

"Guess that means you don't know her like you thought," Marv says, eyeing her wryly. "You showed up looking for her, though, which means she's awful important to you. What're you her girl or somethin'?"

"No!"

The denial comes a little too quickly and too defensively and too disingenuous underneath the abrasiveness for Dinah's liking. Her poor reaction only serves as an additional reminder that she is all too aware of her feelings for Laurel and is in that stage where she just can't accept them. Their ugly past is the main obstacle, and that should be enough, right? There is enough baggage between them to fill up the terminal in the O'Hare Airport claim center.

And then there is the fact that Dinah is pretty sure Laurel is straight. She has caught Laurel checking a few ladies out here and there, but chalked those smoldering glances up to either zealous admiration or incendiary envy. Most of the ogling Dinah has caught Laurel doing has been directed toward one particularly unavailable man who just so happens to be married to her closest friend on this earth and who treats her like shit most of the time – the latter of which seems aligned with Laurel's history of being attracted to men who treat her like shit, which is another subject Dinah would rather not dwell on to keep her blood pressure in check. Not that Dinah can use any of this evidence as definitive proof that Laurel is, in fact, straight seeing as the same could be said of her.

In so far as her friends-slash-teammates know, she has only dated men when that is not quite the truth. In college she had several experimental hook ups with hot coeds from other sororities, one of whom was a steady girlfriend for nearly a year whose name was Lynne. It was Lynne who helped Dinah sort through the mess of her emerging identity to figure out she was actually bisexual and not simply going through a phase. Since then she has primarily dated men since that is her preference, but she has slept with a few women in between boyfriends, the most recent a one night stand in Hub City right before Oliver Queen interrupted her misguided quest for vengeance. That said, Laurel has been the first she's thought of the way she did Lynne, and even then the comparison is lacking. What she feels for Laurel rivals how she felt about Vince when he stopped being her undercover partner and became her lover. And that frightens Dinah so badly that every time the thought crosses her mind she panics and quickly stuffs down all of those complicated feelings Laurel provokes.

Sucking in a breath through her teeth, she lets it out slowly to compose herself before giving a more rational response. "I mean...I know her, yes. We work together. We're also friends. Of a sort. I just..." she trails off into a sigh. "Look, it's complicated. And not that it's any of your business but I was worried about her. She took off from work early, which she never does, and then abandoned a case really important us both. Seeing as she has a penchant for self-destruction, here I am."

After a contemplative hum, Marv nods to himself. "So she is some sort of bigwig politician."

"How do you figure that?"

Marv chuckles drolly. "Ain't hard to figure out. To be workin' with a police captain – got that from your badge by the way – she has to either be a cop or someone real important. And she ain't no cop. Heard her let loose some salty language about some of y'all. Don't leave much else possible. Lawyer, I'm guessin'. No, wait." He snaps his fingers again, eyes alighting. "Now I know why I though she looked so damn familiar. She's the D.A. ain't she? What's her name? Laura? Laurel! That's it. Laurel Lance. Well. I'll be damned."

The expression of utter amazement upon Marv's face is mirrored in Dinah's. "You and me both buddy," she says, taking a pause to process all she's learned. That Laurel has been volunteering at a homeless shelter for the past two weeks. That while still her sassy self, the Laurel that threaded in so seamlessly into the upper echelons of Star City society just as fluidly accommodated to the acclaim-repellent, elbow-grease-required strata of the most humble of the most humble that the mass production and low human value culture of America can produce. Laurel has also made another and even more drastic transformation in shedding the cold, calculating, vicious skin of Black Siren only to casually adopt the fully functional, productive citizen persona of the woman so beloved by so many a statue was built in her honor as if it were no big deal at all. All taken together, her series of adaptations is in Dinah's estimation an accomplishment of which few aside from the most elite social chameleons can boast.

All of that begs the question: who is the real Laurel Lance? And that is a question to which Dinah has no answer except to say she is dying to find out. Laurel is a jigsaw puzzle with a million jumbled up, radically disparate pieces spilled out before her as if to taunt that part of her brain that craves a challenge. Solving the unsolvable was one of many reasons she decided to become a cop after serving her enlistment in the Marine Corps, and there aren't many she's encountered that have her more vexed – and more invested – than Laurel.

As much as she would love to say that was the only reason she's out here in the tit-freezing cold talking to a complete stranger, her heart is not absent of engagement in the mystery of Laurel, either. Something about Laurel has tugged at Dinah's heartstrings for a long time now, since far earlier than their detente to aid Felicity's quest to exact vengeance upon the Dragon and the subsequent cooperation to free Oliver from prison. Maybe it was watching a shell-shocked daughter silently grieve when Quentin died while maintaining a facade of strength in support of a sister she didn't even know. Or maybe it was watching her, with Quentin's devoted fatherly guidance, slowly but surely step out of the inky blackness she inhabited out into the light of a nascent dawn and prove one day, one act, one speech at a time that there really was a fleshly, beating heart in her chest capable of great warmth that courses with red blood that bleeds like every one else upon the infliction of a wound. Or maybe, just maybe, it was getting to know the woman behind the innumerable masks and finding her to be as infinitely interesting, and surprisingly funny and charming on top of that, as the projections she offers up to the world to protect a heart that is far more fragile than she could ever bear to admit. Whatever the cause, there is no denying that Laurel has – probably without even trying – slipped past Dinah's own inner defenses and taken up residence in a place precious few have ever occupied.

"So, is she still here?" Dinah asks after deciding she best not think too much longer about this lest she become unnerved and tuck tail to run for the hills. Which is distinct possibility as scary as these unfurling feelings for Laurel are.

As if ignorant of her internal turmoil, Marv nods sharply, then indicates back toward the building with his head. "Yep. You'll find her inside. In the kitchen probably. Or out serving. Dinner ran over 'cause she got here a little late. All she did, wasn't right to start without her. Worth the wait though. Prime eatin' in there."

"Glad to hear it." Dinah means that in more than one way, though she declines commenting along those lines out of curiosity as to why Marv here is out in the cold with her instead inside and warm tucking into some dessert or something. "By the way, why aren't you inside? Gotta be better than freezing your ass off out here, especially if the food is as good as you said it was."

In response, Marv grins as he gives his belly a satisfied rub. "Already been through the line. I'm stuffed, and it can get loud in there, so I came out for some peace and quiet. Besides, it's a nice evenin'. I'm from New York, ya know. This cold reminds me of home."

"Missouri here by way of St. Louis." Select few outside of Team Arrow know that about Dinah, and that prompts her to wonder why she feels so comfortable sharing it with a total stranger. There is just something about Marv that she can't quite put her finger on. Something familiar. Hmm. "Gotta say, I don't miss the winters down there and they're a far cry from what y'all get in New York," she then adds as she studies the older gentlemen, noting his features remind her a bit of her grandfather, which satisfies that pique of curiosity for the time being.

"Yeah," says Marv, one corner of his lips quirking up just like Laurel's do – a ridiculous comparison that comes out of left field and is swiftly dismissed by Dinah. "But it ain't Christmas less it's cold, you've been fed like a prince, and you're with family. Guess two outta three ain't too bad for a washed up old vet."

Dinah's heart goes out to Marv. She knows the loneliness of having no roots left to speak of worth contacting this time of year. An only child of two only children, her mother's death the year she enlisted signaled the end of any familial obligations. So she cut clean after her discharge, moved to Central and never looked back. Thankfully she has since discovered a new family in Star City, one she did not inherit but chose of her own volition. Also known as the best kind of family.

"Not bad at all. I don't have any family left either. Gotta take what you can get around the holidays, right? Also, you're not all washed up. You figured my rank out with a single glance at my shield."

"My eyes still work. It's the rest of me that don't. And no offense, Cap, but that question you asked me earlier can apply to you, too. What the hell're you doin' standin' out here in the cold yappin' with an old geezer like me? Didn't you come here for a reason?"

Brow raised at his cheek, Dinah nonetheless shifts nervously from side to side. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess I did. Just..."

"Not what you expected to find, eh?" Marv interjects, rich green eyes twinkling in amusement. "Looks like your girl's got some surprises up her thousand buck sleeves."

"That she does. And I told you, she's not my girl."

Marv chuckles amiably at the denial that rings hollow to them both despite it being the truth. Laurel may not be her girl, but Dinah is increasingly becoming aware of the fact that she wants her to be.

"Yea, sure," he says. "Keep tellin' yourself that, Cap, maybe some day you'll convince yourself." Abruptly he shifts on his cinder block throne, clears his throat, and just like that Dinah knows the conversation is about to be over. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to enjoy a few minutes of that peace and quiet I came out here to get before I go back in and rejoin the rabble."

Dinah holds her hands up in surrender, recognizing the dismissal not as a suggestion but as the command that it is. "Alright. Message received." Unwilling to depart just yet for the fondness for this man she has so swiftly developed, she hesitates for a second as her analytic brain sifts through various potential scenarios in which they might meet again. For a variety of reason, not the least of which is statistical probability, most of them aren't good. "Listen," she says after the silence stretches out too long, causing Marv to arch a brow impatiently. "Stay out of trouble, you hear? I don't wanna see you in my station for any reason. Got it?"

Her reply is a mock salute and an equally sardonic, "Sure, boss. No need to worry, though. I don't got any plans to get locked up until at least the New Year. But I'll be sure to target your precinct if I change my mind just for the repeat pleasure of your company."

Recognizing the joke at her expense, Dinah rolls her eyes and quips, "In that case I'll keep the cell warm I reserve for unrepentant smart asses," before swirling to beat a hasty retreat. Back at the alley entry, she veers in the wrong direction only to be course corrected by Marv's consequent shout of, "Hey, Cap? That's the wrong way to the door, ya know." Dinah does know. She was just too damn nervous and uncertain all of a sudden to go through with confronting Laurel about her unexpected injection of the Christmas Spirit. Apparently being called out for her cowardice by a down-on-his-luck vet is the cure for that malady. Straightening her shoulders, she nods her appreciation at a man who in such a small span of time made such a large impression upon her.

"My bad," she calls back. "Thanks!"

She can see Marv's cheesy, smug grin even in the low light afforded by the street lamps and the single outside fixture attached to the outer wall of the shelter. And she certainly has no problem hearing his reply.

"You're welcome! Now, stop lyin' to yourself, march inside there and do what you gotta do to get your girl and make this a Christmas to remember."

To her astonishment and a degree of elation she has not experience since she in High School, Dinah does not bother to correct him this time. In light of all the revelations she experienced tonight about herself and Laurel, along with Marv's timely encouragement just now, clarity descends upon her with an intensity that cannot be denied. For far too long she has been too terrified – albeit for oh-so-many very good reasons – to directly confront the undeniable reality that she is falling in love with Laurel. And instead of inciting a panic that will derail the astounding progress she has made in the process of a single conversation with a man with whom she has only just become acquainted, instead of making her want to run away as fast as her legs will carry her, it does the exact opposite.

Against all rational explanation, and wildly contrary to how she felt on seconds ago, all Dinah wants to do right now is run straight to Laurel. So that's precisely what she does.

#dctv #fanfic #arrow fanfic #arrow #dinah drake #laurel lance #dinah x laurel #laurel x dinah #aka Dinahmite!#or:#dinahsiren #christmas #i may or may not throw together cover art for this #probably not tho cause I'd have to hurry and I am not good with manips #see my post history for proof

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infireation · 6 years

Text

Trigger (Hitman!Namjoon) - [3]

Author’s Note: It’s bacccck! Finally. :)

→ [1] → [2]

You were going to be so late.

It was as if your feet couldn’t carry you fast enough, your leg muscles throbbing from the exertion of trying to zoom past the leisurely walkers and the people who clearly had all the time in the world to kill.

“Watch where you’re going, asshole!” you shouted after gasping at a biker that nearly side swiped you, speeding through an already red light when the crosswalk was clear to walk. Your fresh coffee was now splattered along the street, the pitiful sight emitting a tired sigh from your lips. You did not have time to go and get a new one, your shift starting in two minutes, when you were still fifteen minutes away, so you settled for having to suffer until your lunch break.

You had been having a hell of week as it was, thanking whatever deity that existed that it was Friday.

You took a calming breath before starting up again, walking as quickly as your body would allow without combusting. The sun was bearing down on you, the solace being that of the autumn chill in the air that you were grateful for, not wanting to be drenched in a warm sweat.

Seeing the glass doors to your office building up ahead, you breathed a sigh of relief, pushing yourself just enough to race towards them and into the elevator, surprised that it was fairly empty considering the time of day. You counted the number of dings until you were on your floor, pushing through the double doors and plopping into your seat at your desk.

All was fine and clear until you heard, “You’re late.”

The gruff voice made you cringe, eyes closing in defeat. Where did he even come from? His office was on the other side of the bullpen. He must have been waiting.

“Sorry, sir.” You could hear the man chuckle, and all of a sudden you felt a pat on your shoulder, the gesture causing you to jump.

“You know I don’t care, Y/N. As long as you show up and get your work done, that’s it.” His words brought you comfort. You knew this, but it still bothered your conscious if you were late. You nodded in understanding.

“I got it, don’t worry.” You rolled your eyes, playing it off as if it were nothing, your boss ruffling your hair affectionately.

Your job was not what most would call conventional, despite it being in a government building. This was your first big break since graduating college, where you majored in political science. Unfortunately for you, considering the spectrum is so broad, it was difficult to hone down on one career path. So when this opportunity to work at the office of one of the most up and coming candidates for re-election for senator, you jumped at the chance.

It was a bumpy ride from university up until now, interning anywhere that would accept you, realizing very quickly just how dirty and corrupt this world truly was. It is not as if you were not blind to it, even before going into politics as your major you knew the risks that were associated with it; but it did not matter to you. If anything, that was more of a motivation - an ambition and a desire to clean up the fraudulent state of affairs in your city, let alone the rest of the world, and rid of the people in power who enforced and fed into said chaos.

That leaves you with your boss, who you have grown appreciative of over the last few years since you have started working for the senator’s team. He is the only person who is able to see past the bullshit, same as you, and has alike ultimate end goals in mind. He has become somewhat of a father figure as much as he has been a mentor through it all.

Your office and the team you are on is adequately small considering the work load given. There are around ten to fifteen of you on any given day, most being interns and excessively supportive individuals who want to contribute to the campaign for no compensation. You are one of the very few who have a paid position. Election season is already underway, the official day to vote coming within the next couple of months, making your day to day job that much more stressful.

During your time at school, you made use of the resources available to you to cover all your bases. You gathered early on that you had a knack for writing, which you tried your best to push for whilst looking for job opportunities as well, but you were almost always shut down; so you took what you could get, even if it was not ideal.

You began with the company doing menial work, running errands, getting coffee, making the bothersome calls to everyone in your district to publicize and ensure they would vote for your candidate - things you were more than used to. It was all thanks to one instance where a particularly troublesome caller gave you a piece of their mind, you handled the situation with a sense of responsibility and a clever manipulation that caught the attention of certain people in power. You were now seen as a strong voice, one who is allowed to write pieces and articles, and even contribute to speeches from time to time. They began to take you and your writing seriously, the way you have always wanted. You have grown into and have become a political consultant, which in turn, gave you the ability to share the thoughts that were dying to be heard.

Not even five minutes after you sat down, your phone rang with the first phone call of the day. You groaned, your boss chuckling as he walked away to let you have your privacy.

Before you knew it, lunch creeped up on you and your stomach growled in tandem, exhaling in relief as you sat back in your chair. You pinched the bridge of your nose, feeling a headache coming on from looking at your computer screen consecutively for the last few hours. Pushing away from your desk, you grabbed your purse, heading towards the front only to be stopped by a slim, dapper man, surrounded by what appeared to be an entourage of security guards.

“Senator Kyun, to what do we owe this pleasure?” You heard your boss say from behind you.

The man in front of you smiled, his cheeks a rosy pink, his grin anything but genuine.

“I figured I would stop by, see how my favorite campaign office is doing!” He nudged your arm, glancing at the crowd in the room, and you chuckled nervously. “I actually wanted to pick your brain,” his eyes then focused on you, “for a speech I have to prepare.”

You merely nodded.

“I have an upcoming assembly I’m hosting in the neighboring town.” The senator smiled again, and it took everything you had in you not to grimace.

You could feel your boss come up beside you, resting his hand on your shoulder, squeezing it gently. He gestured for the group to follow into the conference room nearby.

So much for lunch, you supposed.

“We would love to. Right this way.”

Namjoon was certain he had never heard of you before this job was given to him - but as he dug deeper into your history, he could not help the familiarity your name gave him.

He kept repeating it over and over to himself, his fingers scrolling through countless photographs and folders of information on his desktop, until he reached a certain one that gave him all the answers he needed.

It was simply labeled ‘Articles’ and he has no idea how he missed it before, usually one to be so meticulous. But what he found was a slew of papers, editorials, and columns you had written for the local newspapers and magazines, as well as ones regarding Senator Kyun’s campaign. That was where he had recognized you - the brains behind almost all of the senator’s most memorable speeches, the voice of his praises and - to the dismay of the senator - the number one source of revealing his shortcomings all the same.

You were well versed, he had to admit, and he could sense the fire beneath your words even if they were wrapped with a sly passive aggressive bow.

But why would you work on the campaign for a man who you clearly disliked? And with so much passion?

He was beginning to piece together his findings slowly but surely, figuring he could venture out within the next week to begin monitoring your movements. Train cameras and street cams only went so far.

His phone buzzed with a new text message, Namjoon releasing his bottom lip from between his teeth, not realizing how hard he had been biting it. His tongue ran over the skin, not surprised to taste a hint of iron.

Ash: Are you alive?

Namjoon couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

Namjoon: Would you have business if I wasn’t?

Ash: Always so pleasant. I’m starving dude, have you eaten yet?

As if on cue, Namjoon’s stomach growled.

Ash: Not yet. What did you have in mind?

Ash: Sweet! Meet me at the new cafe off of Jongno. It’s right next to that weird hipster coffee shop you always go to.

Namjoon could picture the grimace on his friend’s face as he typed the message. Shaking his head, he replied.

Namjoon: Fine, I’ll see you in twenty.

Shutting down his electronics, he made his way to his bedroom to throw on a casual sweater and a pair of black slacks. He took his glasses off, putting them in their protective case, his eyes feeling the strain of wearing them for a couple of hours now. Grabbing his belongings, he makes sure the place is locked, before heading to his car, taking care to pick one that is acceptable for afternoon errands.

Namjoon has various models in his garage - more so to keep up appearances rather than for personal pleasure. Though he has to admit, he loves the way the sports cars feel beneath his feet when he drives fast on an open road, the adrenaline pumping through his veins when a job is completed.

He arrives on time as promised, with Ash nowhere to be found, which was not surprising. His friend was known for being fashionably late.

Namjoon has a close circle of people he interacts with - generally just including Yoongi and Ash - better known as Hoseok. He doesn’t open up his life to many, considering the nature of his extra curricular activities. He only knows Hoseok from his time at university, Namjoon studying ethics, political theory and law, Hoseok studying medicine and forensic science. It was by happenstance that they met, Hoseok walking into the wrong classroom by mistake, only to stay just for the hell of it, because he was “sort of interested”. He fascinated Namjoon, with his confidence that radiated in waves, his never ending curiosity to learn whatever he could get his hands on, even if it didn’t pertain to him.

Of all things he could do with such a highly professional degree, Hoseok became the owner of a funeral home. Namjoon never understood why his friend worked so hard to obtain so little - Hoseok was brilliant, a genius, even. Yet he decided to do nothing of the sort to utilize his smarts and chose to keep his life as simple as possible.

Perhaps there was solace in the ignorance.

Despite it all, they remained in contact, and Hoseok’s choice in career ended up being a blessing in disguise for Namjoon. This way, he has the means of disposing of the bodies with little to no risk whatsoever.

From that, “Ash” was born. Hoseok took Namjoon’s phone one night after one of their first jobs together, having downed a couple of beers, changing his contact to the elusive nickname, chuckling with pride as he did so. Hoseok did have the flair for the unconventional.

Unbuckling his seatbelt, he grabbed his jacket from the passenger seat, ready to exit his car - at least he was, until he saw a familiar face across the street.

You were wearing a gray pencil skirt, your white button down tucked in neatly, legs elongated by the black kitten heels on your feet. You held onto your notebook tightly, clearly uncomfortable as your knuckles were close to turning white as a man Namjoon knew all too well slung his arm over your shoulder.

Crap, he should have known you would be here, from what he knew of your schedule so far. Your office building was only three blocks away. Where was his camera when he needed it? His phone would have to do.

Namjoon’s fingers worked quickly as he zoomed in, trying his damndest to stay steady, his heartbeat racing as he eyed the man next to you.

Senator Kyun.

He tapped the shutter and took at least twenty photos in succession, at all angles and all capacities, group shots and singling in on just you. He could feel his skin crawl when the senator smiled and hugged you as he said his goodbyes, and he predicted you did too, by the way you held yourself: stiff, and uneasy.

But in a moment, that flash of distress was gone, your back straightening, body relaxing as you leaned into the senator’s hug, as if he were an old friend. When you pulled away, a charming smile graced your lips, and the man to your left - who Namjoon learned was your boss - shook hands with him with a gleeful demeanor.

Namjoon’s eyebrow raised as he observed the scene in front of him; you were quite the manipulator, weren’t you?

“That’s her, isn’t it? Damn, you’ve got your work cut out for you my man.” Namjoon nearly jumped out of his skin, startled by the voice that appeared out of thin air from behind him.

Hoseok grinned, arms crossed as he leaned into the open window on the passenger’s side.

“You’re lucky I wasn’t armed.” Namjoon mumbled to himself but he knew Hoseok heard it from the sound of his laughter getting louder.

“You wouldn’t hurt me even if you wanted to. I’m too important to you.” Namjoon stepped out of the car, sparing one last passing glance towards you and the senator, while he adjusted the collar on his jacket. He stepped up onto the sidewalk where Hoseok stood, punching him in the arm, a satisfied smile on his lips when he heard the man squeal.

“Okay, damn, I get it.”

Namjoon did not even bother hiding the smirk that formed.

“Let’s go already, I’m starving!” Shaking his head, Namjoon allowed his friend to drag him happily into the restaurant, momentarily allowing him to forget what just occurred mere minutes ago.

The blissful ignorance did not mean he was any less intrigued. The more he discovered about you, the more you became a puzzle he was itching to solve, counting down the minutes until he could start up again.

#hitman!namjoon #bts #bangtan sonyeondan #kim namjoon #rm #rap monster #bts scenarios #bts stories #namjoon scenarios #rm scenarios #rap monster scenarios #bangtan scenarios #bangtan stories #au #hitman!au #reader x namjoon #namjoon x reader #rm x reader #reader x rm

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lordavanti · 6 years

Text

Marco Ilsø x Reader // Part I

Summary: After two weeks it’s hard to hide your affection for Marco. Certainly when he asks you on a date just before you have to fight him on teambuilding-day. None the less it turns out in a day to never forget. Warning: Slight smut - Fluff Words: 4050

Taglist: @itharley @missbrightlyred @burningsunshin3 @inthenameofodin @float-autumn-leave @zombie-zayde @decaffeinatedeaglefart @nothingbuthappydays @dani-si @ivarbarnes @supervalcsi @kolvanismirk @sweetvengeancee @mysticsthinking @odins-missing-eye @kirah34 @laketaj24 @mcuimxgine @tiredofthisgeneration @oddsnendsfanfics @the-ragnarssons-tickle-spot

Scooped up on the couch, with a hot chocolate and a lot of drafts and drawings you still weren’t done with work, not even on this hour in the night. You took the job pretty serious but your mind wondered off way to often and it caused you to fall back a little. But the thrill of the turn your life made was just too much to keep focus. You went over the drafts and bite your lip when you saw his picture. It maybe was the back side of his head but it was still him, Marco and you couldn’t resist on smiling. Your phone bussed and you grabbed him from aside you without looking away. At a point you had to look down, only to see his name flare up with the question if you were still awake. You answered, smiling like an idiot. It was going on for over two weeks now, seeing each other of work and it felt amazing. He opened up more around you and you had a hard time hiding it on the work floor. He didn’t texted back, how much you gazed at your phone. Over a half hour past before you heard knocking at your door. You looked up from your work and jumped up, walking into the hallway and opening the door. ‘Marco.’ You reacted surprised. ‘You’re not mad for me showing up here that late?’ He asked on an innocent tone. You smiled, gesturing him to come inside. ‘Was still working.’ ‘Luckily I’m around to force you to take some time for yourself.’ He lifted up your chin and pecked your lips, leaving you with a small blush, before entering your apartment. ‘I thought you were out with the guys?’ ‘We played some pool, Alex won.’ You chuckled about his reaction on it and settled back between your work. Marco pulled out his jacket, leaving it on a chair before walking behind the couch, standing still behind you. ‘When was the last time you did something for your own?’ He asked, bringing your hair together over your shoulders. Your eyes felt half shut on the feeling on his fingers stroking through it. ‘I’m doing a lot of nice things for the past two weeks.’ You answered, hearing him laugh behind you. He was braiding your hair and the feeling almost broke your concentration. You hummed and he lowered down, pressing a kiss against your temple. ‘Will you go out with me tomorrow evening?’ He asked. Your eyes fluttered open and you turned your head to face him. ‘On a date?’ ‘Yes, somewhere where you can’t be distracted from work.’ ‘We have team building tomorrow, I’m not sure,’ you felt silence and shook your head before looking back to him. ‘I will go on a date with you.’ You agreed. The smile spreading over his face was one of the most amazing things Marco had. ‘Good. Then I will leave you to work and I see you tomorrow on the team building.’ He pushed his lips against your cheek and you looked down to your work. ‘It won’t be fair you know, the team building.’ You pointed out. ‘We are on opposite sides, nothing fair about that. Hope you’re not afraid to loose.’ He winked. You couldn’t really react on that because of his kiss. You laid your hand against his jaw and opened your lips, feeling his warmth, sending all this new energy through your body. ‘You’re the best.’ You whispered. It was a thing, he knocking his forehead shortly with yours. ‘Get some sleep, I see you tomorrow.’ He smiled warm. You melted, not even getting up to show him the way out. Instead you gazed back down to the photo of him and his braids. You had a date.

Instead of doing others their hair you were doing your own, putting it up in a tight ponytail, almost as tight as the your sport clothes wore. Team building, cast against crew, it was hardly fair. You represented the hair department together with one of the girls. ‘Cast and crew, assemble!’ They shouted from outside. You shivered out of excitement, following the others outside to the big field on which there was a tower. The director stood there, with his microphone and his assistant. Your eyes scouted over the black shirts that represented cast. ‘Good luck.’ You startled, looking over your shoulder to Marco winking. ‘If you win I won’t go,’ you felt silence, looking to Jordan and Alex who stood aside him, laughing against each other, all pumped up for the challenge. ‘you know where.’ You whispered, referring to the date. ‘Sorry.’ He apologized in advance. You shortly looked over your shoulder to him, looking down his sweatpants as he turned back towards his two brothers in crime. Jordan caught you on staring and your cheeks flushed, fast looking back in front of you. The director set the rules, what was pretty simple. You all where set up in groups of five, playing against the others in little games. The two teams with the highest score had to do rope pulling in order to get victory for cast or crew. You were with four others in a team of five and the things you had to do where rather funny. First challenge was extinguishing a burning pile of wood, that by running fort and back with buckets of water one at the time. Yelling to your teammates was rather fun, just as the running was … until it became exhausting. Another challenge was being a spy and going through a web of wires without touching them. Another one was just with water balloons and a hope of laughing. It was fun, the whole day was fun until you came to an obstacle parcour. You looked to the parcour, the crawling, the climbing and you looked over to your teammates, knowing that everybody was exhausted after all those other challenges. You rather had this one first. ‘Look at this.’ You grunted, looking aside to Alex and his team. ‘You girls look exhausted.’ He chuckled. You looked further towards Jordan and Marco, they all looked so good. ‘Why aren’t you tired.’ You huffed, getting up from the ground you were sitting on. ‘Practice Y/n.’ He answered. You shortly looked over to Marco, he was hiding a smile behind his fist. The arbiter walked over, standing in between the two parcours as Alex and your friend lined up to go first. ‘First group to finish this wins.’ The arbiter announced. You took a deep breath and looked aside to Marco who lined himself up to run against you, both the last once in the row. You tilted your head and he winked … leaving you defenseless with that tingling feeling in your stomach. ‘Go!’ The man shouted and your friend started running. It was a muddy parcour in which you first had to crawl underneath wires and jump into car tires before jumping a few obstacles and climb a wall. You started to shout towards your team players, encouraging them one by one. But Alex was that much faster, reaching the wall before your friend did. He slipped in the mud, giving you more air to yell at her to go faster. To your surprise she climbed that wall like it was nothing, landing on the other side before running over to your other team players. Until it was your turn. The man from costumes slammed your hand and you started running two seconds before Marco did. The adrenaline of a chase, that was how it felt. You crawled through the mud, glad to have your hair up in a ponytail before jumping up and taking the car tires. Marco side lined you and it was hard to not look aside with how much ease he got over the obstacles and started that wall. You ran, jumping up and grabbing the edge, placing your feet against the wood while the others from the team were yelling. It took all your power to pull yourself up while Marco was running already back. You fell over it, crawled up and ran back. Arriving completely out of breath you fell down on the ground. Looking over your shoulder you knew you lost this part of the day and maybe good, you weren’t sure if you would be able to handle rope pulling. You rolled on your back, gazing at the sky while taking a few deep breaths. Marco broke that imagine by hovering over you. ‘Go away.’ You breathed with a tiring laugh. ‘Mad you lost?’ He taunted. You reached to some mud a little further aside you and threw it at his face. He froze and you started laughing, getting up fast before he could grab you, which he did anyway. ‘No!’ You yelled as he dragged you towards the mud. ‘Marco, no, please.’ He pushed you down, placing his knee on your stomach so you had nowhere to go. He painted his muddy fingers over your face while you were protesting against it, slapping him on his arms. ‘The both of you seem to like each other much.’ Jordan noticed. You froze, looking up to Marco, knowing you crossed the line between cast and crew. Crew wasn’t that close with the cast, they did their jobs, got appreciated and respected but hardly grew to something else. ‘You want to join?’ You asked Jordan rather quick. He shook his head, looking fort and back between the both of you before smiling and walking away. Marco looked back at you and you started laughing. ‘You better look better than this tonight.’ He whispered, helping you up before the both of you walked over to the main event, rope pulling. Off course, cast won the day, although that wasn’t what you would remember about this day. It took you more than half an hour to get all the mud out of your hair and the dirt out of your body. You choose a dress, a light not to occasional but neither to casual, in your favorite color. You grew nervous a little, braiding your hair up in a nice way you didn’t do it often. And when you heard that knock on your door you gazed into the mirror to your own reflection, breathing out before opening. His eyes dropped over your body, just as you he was a little dressed up but not to much. ‘Hey,’ you started, nervous. His eyes trailed back at yours and you bite your lip. ‘You look stunning.’ He admired, lifting his hand to stroke your cheek. ‘I’m nervous a little.’ ‘Why? Because it is with me?’ ‘No, just typical me, always nervous for this kind of stuff.’ You smiled quick. He pulled you closer, looking to the way your hair was braided. ‘Just you and me.’ He reassured you. You pushed on your toes and kissed him softly. ‘Just you and me.’ You repeated. He held softly on to your face, smiling. ‘You really look beautiful Y/n.’ ‘You to, although,’ you closed the door behind you, laughing a little high pitched. ‘you always do.’ You said, looking over his outfit again. He wrapped his arms over your shoulder and you relaxed a little, leaning in on him while the both of your left the apartment. It wasn’t a fancy restaurant but it was intimate, with wine, all in the back of the little restaurant right over each other. It was like dreaming, you never had a nice dinner like this in the past year and it completely overwhelmed you in the beginning. While you were a little nervous Marco was the calm one, easing you into the feeling of this setting, making you relax. Your wine glass softly turned on your accord, dreamy looking how he drank the left overs out his glass. When he caught you staring he stopped his glass from entering his mouth while he squeezed his eyes a little together. ‘What are you thinking about?’ He asked. You smiled, looking into your glass before looking back to him. ‘How amazing this is, how amazing the past two weeks were.’ You admitted. You were completely falling in love with Marco and his way of radiating love and calmness. He wasn’t like the others and that was exactly what you loved about him. ‘You in for the long shot?’ ‘Defiantly.’ You answered right away. He smiled and you leaned your head on your hand. ‘Jordan is already guessing, maybe we should say it to them.’ He went further on it. You slowly nodded, grabbing your glass and drinking some of the wine. ‘I’m so not ready for that.’ ‘Why not?’ He asked. ‘Won’t they judge?’ You asked a little uncertain. You weren’t somebody who loved to be in the middle of the attention and neither was he. But maybe telling them now would avoid the gossip of tomorrow, in the way of speaking. ‘Will it change anything?’ He asked you right back. You bite your lip, squeezing your eyes shut before shaking your head. ‘No, it won’t.’ You admitted. He stretched his hand out over the table and you tabbed your fingers over his hand, embracing his wrist. ‘In for dessert?’ He asked. You chuckled, stroking your fingers away from his hand to hide your laugh a little. ‘What kind of dessert?’ You asked him innocent back. Now it was his turn to laugh while he gestured towards the waiter, not even losing side of you. He ordered your favorite dessert and you frowned your eyes. ‘How do you know?’ You asked curious. ‘Lots of research and observation.’ He winked. The mood got lighter, more playful, maybe because of the wine. You tilted your head. ‘Are you stalking me?’ You asked him right back. ‘You have no idea what I do when I’m not around you.’ ‘Amuse me.’ ‘I think about you all the time, I scroll through your Instagram way to much and I’m always hoping you will do my hair before filming.’ He answered honestly. You signed with that smile on your lips. ‘I pay attention.’ He answered your first question. You nodded, drinking your glass empty before dessert came, your favorite one. How could you resist all of that? The tickling feeling low in your stomach just grow the second you stayed longer around Marco. Now it was his turn to watch you while eating. You felt a blush crawling onto your face under his intense gaze. At this point, you felt both completely comfortable around each other and it made you crave for more. ‘Stop looking.’ ‘You look better without the mud.’ He reacted with a grin. ‘Remember who is doing your hair every morning.’ You reminded him. He chuckled, still gazing. ‘Marco.’ You warned him with a quick smile. He looked away, over to the other people sitting around and you just shook your head, enjoying your dessert before closing this perfect night in another glass of wine. ‘Stay.’ He offered, the both of you looking up to the dark sky that seemed to get even darker. You already walked over here, giving it was planning on raining you could better stay. You nodded and he held the door open into the building. You shivered a little, waiting for him to open the door to his apartment you so much liked. After two weeks you stayed at least four times over, that couch became your best friend. He threw his keys on the table and shook of his jacket, hanging it over a chair. You kicked of your shoes, curling your toes for they hurt a little. ‘Was it a good date?’ He asked curious, like he needed the conformation. You shove your shoes aside and turned around to him. ‘Very much,’ you started, walking over to him. He wrapped his arms around your body, hands resting on your lower back. ‘I never felt so loved and admired before.’ ‘We should have done this so much sooner.’ He smiled down to you. You rested on hand on his chest, shrugging. ‘Doesn’t matter, we are here now. Thank you for this, it was incredible.’ You said with a tender smile. His forehead dropped to yours and you gazed into his eyes for a moment. ‘You know I would do anything for you.’ He whispered. You looked down to his lips before you titled your head a little, stroking your nose aside his before kissing him. His one hand shifted to your waist while his other cupped your face. You tangled your fingers in his hair and opened your lips to his. He wasn’t eager or greedy, he was just always so on pace, so considering that you always fell right into place. Your fingers slide down to his shirt, unbuttoning the button when he stopped you. ‘Are you sure?’ He asked. ‘You can’t really ask me that question after tonight without knowing the answer Marco.’ You whispered against his lips, pulling him closer in another kiss. In a way it got heated a little, your fingers scour over his chest with every button you released as he leaded your body away from the living room into his bedroom. In the past two weeks you thought about this, sex, asking yourself how it would be and growing nervous on the thoughts. But it didn’t made you nervous tonight. You stroke your hair over one shoulder while his fingers reached back for the zipper of your dress. You got the goosebumps of the sound the zipper made, the soft touch of his fingertips on your naked back. You pushed his shirt over his shoulders before helping him out of your dress, leaving you with nothing but panties and a bra. The back of your knees kicked against the bed and you laughed when he almost fell right on top of you. He looked into your eyes, like he was looking for some kind of permission. The little nod caused his lips to come down on yours, kissing them before he kissed your cheek, your neck, your shoulder. His arms held most of his weight up but the little feeling his body contacted with yours just made you warm inside. His lips kissed the soft fabric of your bra before he kissed you stomach and you started to shift underneath him, arching your back to meet his lips. He kissed you just above your panties before he turned back to you and you unbuckled his belt, getting lost in the touch of his fingers roaming your skin. You removed his hair from the man bun while he clipped your bra open. You didn’t felt insecure when he looked down to you. You wrapped your arm around his neck, feeling how he let his weight a little down on you. Skin against skin, heavy breaths filling the air as you felt the tensing building up inside your body in a pleasurable way. You moaned against his lips on every feeling he pulled you through while he whispered your name more than once over again. It was like he body fit for yours, like everything sparked something else in your body. Nothing in the world could match this, this feeling, this moment, this kind of love. You woke up, a little confused for starters because it was already light outside. You squeezed your eyes back together, shifting a little until you felt that reassuring body behind you. An instant smile crawled on your lips, feeling his chest contact with your back as his arm laid crossed over your stomach. You enjoyed the warmth you were laying in, remembering the details of last night. It was perfect, more than perfect. You felt him move, lips kissing your shoulder blade. ‘Hmmm.’ You turned on your back, feeling how his hand moved with it. ‘Good morning.’ He whispered, still half asleep. ‘Good is an understatement.’ You reacted, tapping your fingers against his chest while studying his face. He smiled, stroking your face before lowering his lips to yours in a tender kiss. You smiled in that kiss opening your eyes when he pulled back. ‘Feels like I’m dreaming.’ ‘I can reassure you it wasn’t dreaming.’ ‘I know but,’ and all of the sudden you remembered that you actually had to work. ‘Shit!’ You cursed, turning around to look for your phone, it was already so late. ‘Work!’ You explained and all of the sudden he was fully awake to. The both of you got out of bed in a faster pace than you got into it. The only thing you had laying around was your dress. ‘I’ll drive you home.’ He nodded, zipping your dress up, pressing a fast kiss behind your ear. You chuckled, gathering all your things in the quickest pace you found. ‘We are not making a habit of this.’ You started while taking the stairs down. ‘Agreed.’ He held the car door open and you jumped it, leaving a message for the team that you were running late. He drove you to your apartment where you switched clothes, did something about your hair while he made coffee. ‘I imagined myself another way of waking up.’ You breathed while grabbing your stuff. When back in the elevator you looked aside to him, he was smiling like an idiot. ‘What is it?’ ‘Rather fun.’ He explained. You stretched your hand with the coffee cup out of the way when he came to stand before you. ‘I love it.’ You admitted. ‘What? Running late?’ ‘You, last night, this.’ You pointed around. He didn’t had the time to kiss you for the elevator doors went open and you both walked out to his car. The only moment to find a little rest was in the drive over to set, you had time to sip your coffee while looking to the schedule, lucky for you it wasn’t all that busy this morning. When you both arrived he parked the car and turned towards you. ‘Happy braiding.’ ‘Happy filming.’ You smiled, pecking his lips before the both of you got out. ‘Wow,’ You both turned around to Jordan and Katherine standing there. ‘You both are gloating.’ Jordan stated. ‘Running late and arriving in the same car.’ Katherine followed. You looked aside to Marco who closed the door from his car and looked over to you. ‘No need denying it there brother, it’s all over your face.’ Jordan laughed. Marco got a little shy on the words so you pitched in for him. ‘We had a nice evening.’ You shrugged. ‘What do we need to understand with that? Do I need to arrange a double date?’ Jordan asked as Katherine winked at you and walked away. ‘Maybe.’ You muttered, turning around yourself and throwing Marco a small smile. He putted his hand up to wave you goodbye before you left him in the hands of Jordan … who wanted to know everything. Four hours … that was all it took for half the crew and cast to know you two were dating. You focused on your work, avoiding Alex his smug grin through the mirror. ‘Y/n.’ ‘Yes, it’s true, are you happy now?’ You said, not looking up. ‘You two fit together, I’m happy for Marco.’ He shrugged. You slowly looked up to the mirror and forced a smile on your lips. ‘No need to get shy over that.’ ‘It’s in my nature.’ You muttered, finishing his braids. ‘Talking about the devil.’ Alex chuckled. You looked aside to Marco walking in, he immediately swung his empty bottle of water towards Alex, causing him to get wet under the last drops. ‘Don’t start.’ Marco warned him. You petted Alex on the shoulder to signal him you were done. ‘I wouldn’t dare.’ Alex petted Marco against his cheek in a friendly gestured. It seemed that everybody was happy, for both him and you. You watched him leaving before you looked back to Marco. ‘Sit.’ You pointed to the chair. He did as you asked and you started with his hair, causing him to almost fall asleep again. ‘Lucky you.’ You smiled through the mirror. He opened his eyes and looked back to you. ‘I’ll do yours tonight.’ He winked. Your smile became larger while shaking your head and looking back to his hair. You were officially madly in love with Marco Ilsø.

#vikings #vikings imagine #vikings x reader #marco ilsø #Marco imagine #Marco x reader #Marco fic #Marco Ilso x reader #vikings fic #Hvitserk #Hvitserk Ragnarsson #Hvitserk imagine #Hvitserk x reader #HistoryVikings

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ah17hh · 5 years

Text

Satan's Stardrowned (a short story) via /r/satanism

Satan's Stardrowned (a short story)

(Disclosure: I commissioned this work)

I - Inner Wasteland

The shrill cry of crows shook the window panes. And those calls were answered by an equally shrill squawking of a parrot that sat in a wire cage. The large bird— a black lory with wings like red flames—ruffled its feathers as it screamed, sending fluffy downs into the air. Stacked at the base of the cage were piles of old newspapers decorated in milky-colored waste and empty boxes of wine. As the two avian adversaries battled it out with incessant screeching, a pile of mismatched blankets shook to reveal a woman with long auburn braids.

She slipped the blanket just below her nose revealing her bloodshot eyes, "I'll seriously eat both of you."

And as Estelle's stomach growled aloud like a fearsome beast, it seemed likely that her threats were serious. She glared daggers at the caged bird that chirped along with no care. Estelle sighed realizing that her words meant little to her feathery friend. She enjoyed the bird's company despite its constant chattiness. It, at least, was a more inviting sound than the rantings of her coworkers. Even the thought of seeing the slimy grins on their faces made her feel nauseated. And she had only just recovered from a bout of vomiting.

Beside her piles of scattered bedding sat dirty dishes— a bowl of partially eaten soup and a mug of thick, dark liquid. Estelle reached over to the spoon that sat in the bowl. She stirred the contents and grimaced. Day old tomato soup wasn't her idea of a proper breakfast. But as she glanced over at the clock ticking on the wall, three in the morning wasn't a proper time for anything.

Rubbing her eyes, the woman contemplated her existence as well as how many steps it would be to the microwave. She decided they were both too much of a hassle. But despite her attempts to hide her face beneath the thick wool of her blankets, the birds' calling won out. Estelle groaned as she sat up in her makeshift bed.

"Well, I'm up," she said to the caged bird, "What do you want?"

Despite her pleas, the bird said nothing legible in response. Estelle shook her head as she rose to her feet. She left her windswept and cluttered bedroom for an equally disheveled kitchen. Plates of partially-eaten food, unsorted utensils, and over-ripened fruit laid scattered on the counters. Estelle squinted her eyes, hoping the mess would disappear if she pretended it wasn't there.

With a throat burning like she breathed fire and airways far too congested to properly breathe, Estelle sifted through her cabinets. There was only one purification liquid that could properly ease her sickness and it was red in color and tasted nasty but was hell's ambrosia all the same. But as the woman slammed each of her drawers and cabinets in quick succession, she was unable to find the dry wine she sought.

She dug her nails into her temples. A week with the flu was one thing, but not being able to drown her misery in booze left Estelle feeling frustrated. Her eyes darted to the kettle. At the very least, she figured tea would be a good substitute. She had assembled quite the collection despite hardly being much of a tea-drinker.

Estelle sifted her hand through the bags of tea that were packaged neatly in a metal tin. She sighed as she glanced through the selection. Making choices was never her strong suit, especially when the options available seemed endless. And when she struggled to make a decision, she knew the voice in which to turn.

"If only you left some 'spells' that made waking up everyday bearable," she thought. Estelle plopped down at a small square table that housed one lone chair. She dug her nails into her scalp, rustling her fringe and releasing loose strands of hair from her braids.

If it weren't for the squawking coming from her bedroom, Estelle would have curled up into the chair and fallen back to sleep. But she knew that Naamah, her prized lory, wouldn't stand for even a moment without ample amounts of attention and snacks. Checking what was left from the fruit bowl, Estelle at least had a papaya to appease the goddess.

She rinsed a knife and plate from her pile of unloved kitchen tools. The plate had a five-pointed-star engraved on its surface. Estelle had always been annoyed receiving star-clad gifts. It seemed as if everyone who heard her name assumed that she needed to hoard astral paraphernalia. Had it been gifted to her from anyone else, it would've ended up listed on an online auctioning site. But because it was from him... Estelle chopped into the fruit, squishing it with the blunt end of the knife.

As the blade slid beside her fingers, Estelle imagined the gushing papaya juice as blood. Her mind had turned clouded from her sickness— it became clouded from many sources. And with so much that had gone wrong, Estelle wondered if she should reclaim some of that misfortune and enact it by her own hands. If she were to take her blade and stab it repeatedly into her own body— turning her smooth olive-toned flesh into a sea of blood-filled holes —she wondered what would happen and if any of it would truly matter.

Though, those thoughts were interrupted by a piercing sound. And this time, it wasn't Naamah's song that alerted the woman. Her ringtone was something that started as a joke between her penpal. She had always wrote to him about her fondness of hearing humans screams. Something filled with so much raw emotion— it was both beautiful and hideous all at once. And she found it endearing that he sent his own scream to alert her when her boss called. The inflection he captured was one that accurately conveyed how she felt when she heard from work.

Part of her wished to let the phone ring and accept whatever consequence would come from using more of her undocumented sick leave. But from where she stood, she saw the bills piling up at her mail slot. Another week without a paycheck would probably mean the end to hot running water and Estelle was too fond of late night bubble baths.

Hacking up her lungs to clear her throat, Estelle ran back into her bedroom to retrieve the screaming device. Between the duet of birds and her own raspy voice, she didn't expect to be understood. But knowing her boss, she didn't anticipate him listening to much that she had to say.

"Stella! So glad you picked up. I've been trying to get in touch with you all week. May just called out last minute and we have a tour that starts at six. I know you called out this week, but I was wondering if there was any chance that you might just come in for a few hours and..."

Estelle zoned out his voice as he spoke. She contemplated if she was more annoyed that he insisted on using that nickname or that he wouldn't let her get a word in. And no amount of coughing seemed to stop him from his rant. Even in the middle of the night, that man was far too energetic for his own good. She had to wonder what cocktail of pills he was dosing to get on that level of excitement at odd hours.

When the pause came, she was too bored to argue, "The lakeside trail at six? And it's just a shared tour? No bells and whistles? No frills?"

"Well, as always, I'd expect you to give that beautiful starry-eyed smile of yours to each-"

She gagged, "Sounds great. I'll be there."

As her finger glided against her screen, she heard the man's voice darkened, "You know, we were going over our attendance sheets yesterday. You've had a lot of unaccounted for absences. I told the office that it must be some kind of mistake though. Our team starlet would never act so irresponsibly."

"Sure wouldn't."

"You know, I was glad that I caught you up this late. Couldn't sleep? Too busy stargazing?" he said as he laughed too hard at his own joke.

Estelle slammed her head repeatedly into the back of her pillow, "The phone just woke me up. I'll get some rest before my shift starts. Goodnight."

Before he could respond, she had already hung up and tossed her phone into the pile of blankets. She groaned and massaged her head. The thought of putting on a chipper facade and hiking on a brisk autumn day made Estelle question whether she would rather quit her job and allow the eviction process to take its course. But she stood once again— she had promised she would continue on. And she didn't intend to break that promise.

Repeating the steps she needed to take seemed to always help. Feed Naamah, feed herself, get dressed, and then... Estelle slipped down to her knees. Even with it all spelled out for her, making the first move was always the most difficult step. And when she did force herself to act, she had to question why any of it mattered.

Her eyes darted to a desk built from scraps of welded metal— the altar. That was, at least, what she and her penpal always called it. That desk was the last welding project she completed during her apprenticeship. And it seemed fitting to make it her designated writing desk as those letters were the only thing motivating her to stay at that shop.

She sat down and pressed her hands against a stack of stationery and pens. A thin layer of dust had formed over the top of the parchment. She wished to let it remain. There was no use in upsetting the dust in its natural habitat. And besides, there was nothing for her to write anymore.

Naamah squawked again, capturing Estelle's attention, "Yeah. There's no point in stalling is there?"

Before she sat up, her fingers slid against the statue that sat on the altar— a being with the head of a goat and the body of a human. Estelle sighed. It was the last gift he sent. And as much as she felt ungrateful to say it, she'd rather destroy and burn everything he gave her if it meant hearing from him again.

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Inside Chrome: The Secret Project to Crush IE and Remake the Web

Chrome development team from left, Mark Larson, Brian Rakowski, Darin Fisher, and Ben Goodger Photo:Joe Pugliese

Brian Rakowski walks to the whiteboard in a small conference room in Building 41 on Google’s Mountain View campus. A lanky, gregarious man in his twenties, Rakowski is the product manager of a top-secret project that’s been under way for more than two years. The weekly Monday meeting of managers or “leads,” as Google puts it in its nonhierarchical way will be one of the last before the upcoming launch. Rakowski writes 12 items on the board with a black dry-erase marker. The first is “State of the Release.” It’s late August, and the release in question is called Chrome, Google’s first Web browser. Since a browser is the linchpin of Web activity the framework for our searching, reading, buying, banking, Facebooking, chatting, video watching, music appreciation, and porn consumption this is huge for Google, a step that needed to wait until the company had, essentially, come of age. It is an explicit attempt to accelerate the movement of computing off the desktop and into the cloud where Google holds advantage. And it’s an aggressive move destined to put the company even more squarely in the crosshairs of its rival Microsoft, which long ago crushed the most fabled browser of all, Netscape Navigator. A Google browser has been rumored for so long that most people have stopped talking about it. But the folks in this room know that the talking will soon begin again. Chrome is due to rock the Web just 16 days from this meeting. It turns out the state of the release is … not so bad. At Release Build Minus One ideally, the last version before the public beta hits the streets there are only five “blocking” bugs, all of which Rakowski and team deem fixable. “Things are looking good,” says Mark Larson, one of the tech leads. “What are we missing?” asks Sundar Pichai, Google’s vice president of product management. “What’s keeping you up at night?” “It’s not Chrome,” says Darin Fisher, an engineer who coauthored the first prototype. That gets a laugh because everyone knows he’s got a 10-week-old at home. Rakowski takes a red marker and puts an X next to the State of the Release item. The Google browser is one step closer to reality. Why is Google building a browser? A better question is, why did it take so long for Google to build a browser? After all, as Pichai says, “our entire business is people using a browser to access us and the Web.” “The browser matters,” CEO Eric Schmidt says. He should know, because he was CTO of Sun Microsystems during the great browser wars of the 1990s. Google cofounders Larry Page and Sergey Brin know it, too. “When I joined Google in 2001, Larry and Sergey immediately said, ‘We should build our own browser,’” Schmidt says. “And I said no.” It wasn’t the right time, Schmidt told them. “I did not believe that the company was strong enough to withstand a browser war,” he says. “It was important that our strategic aspirations be relatively under the radar.” Nonetheless, the idea persisted and rumors percolated. After a 2004 New York Times article quoted “a person who has detailed knowledge of the company’s business” saying a browser was in the works, Schmidt had to publicly deny it. But behind the scenes, the subject remained a running argument between Schmidt and the founders. As a kind of compromise, Google assembled a team to work on improvements for the open source browser Firefox, spearheaded by browser wizards Ben Goodger and Fisher. (Both had worked with Mozilla, the nonprofit organization behind Firefox.) Another hiring coup came when Linus Upson, a 37-year-old engineer whose pedigree includes a stint at NeXT, signed up as a director of engineering. “This was very clever on Larry and Sergey’s part,” Schmidt says, “because, of course, these people doing Firefox extensions are perfectly capable of doing a great browser.” Sure enough, in the spring of 2006, the Firefox group began talking among themselves about designing a new app. They loved Firefox but they recognized a flaw in all current browsers. When Microsoft’s Internet Explorer and the codebase at the heart of Firefox were originally conceived, browsing was less complex. Now, however, functions that previously could be performed only on the desktop email, spreadsheets, database management are increasingly handled online. In the coming era of cloud computing, the Web will be much more than just a means of delivering content it will be a platform in its own right. The problem with revamping existing browsers to accommodate this concept is that they have developed an ecology of add-on extensions (toolbars, RSS readers, etc.) that would be hopelessly disrupted by a radical upgrade. “As a Firefox developer, you love to innovate, but you’re always worried that it means in the next version all the extensions will be broken,” Fisher says. “And indeed, that’s what happens.” The conclusion was obvious: Only by building its own software could Google bring the browser into the cloud age and potentially trigger a spiral of innovation not seen since Microsoft and Netscape one-upped each other almost monthly.

Chrome: Here’s What Shines

Google wanted a browser optimized for cloud computing, with a design emphasis on simplicity and speed. Key features:

Speed Blazing fast JavaScript engine opens the door to more advanced Web applications.

Navigation The “omnibox” combines the search and address boxes, and pop-up thumbnails show your most-visited destinations.

Availability The open source software was launched in over 40 languages, but Windows only; Mac and Linux versions are in the works.

Reliability Tabs run in isolation, so if one crashes, no others are affected. Also, you can drag tabs to create new windows.

Privacy Browsing history is now searchable and editable; incognito mode offers private surfing.

One key change they had in mind was something called a multiprocess architecture, the system that helps the computer keep going when an application crashes or freezes. Why not extend that idea to browsers, so if something crashes in a tab, the other tabs are unperturbed? Also, for that matter, why not set things up so that you can drag an existing tab to create a new window? Starting from scratch had other advantages. You could design it to look cleaner and run faster, the twin dogmas of the Google corporate religion. Around June 2006, Goodger, Fisher, and another former Mozillan named Brian Ryner cooked up a small prototype. Their first big decision involved the choice of a rendering engine, the software that processes the HTML code of a Web page into the stuff that appears on your screen. The two major open source options were Gecko, used by Firefox, and WebKit, which powers Apple’s Safari browser. The word was that WebKit (which had already been adopted by the group developing Google’s Android mobile operating system) could be nasty fast three times as fast as Gecko, in one example. In a few weeks, they had a simple application running WebKit on Windows that kept going even when a Web page crashed a tab. Early on, Goodger recalls, “our prototypes had a picture of a little tab that was unhappy, and if a tab died you’d see that. It was the first piece of personality in the product.” Not long after that, Brin and Page came by to check in on the furtive beginnings of their browser. “I remember sitting at my desk, which at the time had a stuffed snake running along the back of it,” says Pam Greene, an engineer on the team. “Sergey was bouncing on one of those exercise balls, watching Darin give a demo, and petting the snake.” No one will say exactly when the browser project got the official green light. Pichai recalls an executive meeting when Schmidt no longer seemed as opposed as he had been. If Google did go for it, the CEO said, the team had to produce something very different from Explorer and Firefox. In addition, a Google browser would have to be fast, and it would have to be open source. Which, of course, was exactly what the team already had in mind. In any case, by the autumn of 2006 the line between unofficial concept and formal project had been crossed. “One Friday, there was a meeting called with like an hour’s notice,” engineer Brett Wilson says. “We were told, ‘The management is thinking about doing our own browser what do you think about that?’ Everybody was a combination of excited and freaked out.” Part of the freak-out was they knew full well that building a competitive browser was a massive undertaking. There were also mixed feelings because of the group’s attachment to Firefox, an icon of open source development and a hedge against Microsoft’s dominance. “The fear was that people were going to read this as sabotaging Firefox,” says Erik Kay, an engineer who joined the team in October 2006. The Googlers were mollified by the fact that their browser would be 100 percent open source: Google’s innovations could potentially find their way into the Mozilla codebase. “We really want to make Firefox successful, as well as other open source browsers,” Upson says. As part of Google’s Firefox effort, Pichai had been meeting with Mozilla head Mitchell Baker, and at some point he told her about Google’s project. Baker now says a Google browser is a mixed bag for Mozilla and Firefox. She sees the effort as a vindication of Mozilla’s belief that browser choice is essential. “If Google comes up with some good new ideas, that’s really great for users,” she says. “Competition spurs the best in us.” But she also understands that many of her users will download Google’s app. “We expect people will try it and come back,” she says. “Mozilla exists because independence is important.”

The Illustrated History: To introduce Chrome and its development team, Google asked noted artist Scott McCloud to create a 32-page comic (available online) that depicts the browser’s two-year gestation and special features.

A less weighty issue was what to dub the product. After considering some ridiculous codenames (Upson says they were so awful that he took the un-Googly step of a top-down veto), the project borrowed its moniker from the term used to describe the frame, toolbars, and menus bordering a browser window: chrome. One more hire was key. Because Chrome was supposed to be optimized to run Web applications, a crucial element would be the JavaScript engine, a “virtual machine” that runs Web application code. The ideal person to construct this was a Danish computer scientist named Lars Bak. In September 2006, after more than 20 years of nonstop labor designing virtual machines, Bak had been planning to take some time off to work on his farm outside rhus. Then Google called. Bak set up a small team that originally worked from the farm, then moved to some offices at the local university. He understood that his mission was to provide a faster engine than in any previous browser. He called his team’s part of the project “V8.” “We decided we wanted to speed up JavaScript by a factor of 10, and we gave ourselves four months to do it,” he says. A typical day for the Denmark team began between 7 and 8 am; they programmed constantly until 6 or 7 at night. The only break was for lunch, when they would wolf down food in five minutes and spend 20 minutes at the game console. “We are pretty damn good at Wii Tennis,” Bak says. They were also pretty good at writing a JavaScript engine. “We just did some benchmark runs today,” Bak says a couple of weeks before the launch. Indeed, V8 processes JavaScript 10 times faster than Firefox or Safari. And how does it compare in those same benchmarks to the market-share leader, Microsoft’s IE 7? Fifty-six times faster. “We sort of underestimated what we could do,” Bak says. Speed may be Chrome’s most significant advance. When you improve things by an order of magnitude, you haven’t made something better you’ve made something new. “As soon as developers get the taste for this kind of speed, they’ll start doing more amazing new Web applications and be more creative in doing them,” Bak says. Google hopes to kick-start a new generation of Web-based applications that will truly make Microsoft’s worst nightmare a reality: The browser will become the equivalent of an operating system. Google also brought in reinforcements to implement the multiprocess architecture that allowed each open tab to run like a separate, self-contained program. In May 2007, it acquired GreenBorder Technologies, a software security firm whose technology was designed to isolate IE and Firefox activities into virtual sessions, or “sandboxes,” where malware intrusions couldn’t mess with other activities or data on your computer. When the deal was announced publicly, tech pundits wondered whether it meant that Google was going into the antivirus business. Only after the acquisition did GreenBorder’s engineers learn that their job was to construct sandboxes for the tabs of a new browser. “It was confusing,” says Carlos Pizano, one of the GreenBorder hires. “They would not say what they wanted to sandbox.” The team was growing, but the process never got bogged down in bureaucracy. In the project’s early stages, Chromers would all have lunch together at a table in one of the Google cafs. Soon even the largest table couldn’t accommodate them all. Working in an open source spirit, every engineer was free to check out any piece of code and tweak or improve it. Rakowski always tried to keep things light, one day awarding tins of chrome polish to the best bug catchers. As the plumbing aspects of the product fell into place, activity focused on user interface. From the beginning, the Chrome team hoped that its visual presentation would be so understated that people wouldn’t even think they were using a browser. The mantra became “Content, not chrome,” which is sort of weird given the name of the browser. (“We’ve learned to live with the irony,” Mark Larson says.) The clearest expression of this comes when you drag a tab containing a Web application like Gmail to its own separate window and specify that you want an “app shortcut.” At that point, the tabs, buttons, and address bars fall away and the Web app looks pretty much like a desktop app. Welcome to the cloud era.

Any tab in Chrome can be dragged out to start a new window.

When deciding what buttons and features to include, the team began with the mental exercise of eliminating everything, then figuring out what to restore. The back button? No-brainer. The forward button? Less essential, but it survived. But if you’re a big fan of the browser status bar that meter that tells you what percent of a page has loaded you’re out of luck with Chrome. And then there was the bookmarks bar. At first, engineers thought they could kill it. Chrome introduces several new navigation methods, including one where the browser figures out where you want to go next with no typing required. And when you do type something in, you use the “omnibox,” a combination of address bar and search box: Just tell it what you’re thinking and it delivers a Web address, search results, or popular destinations that fit your query, all in non-intrusive text underneath the box. It’s a bulked-up version of “I’m Feeling Lucky.” Still, user tests showed that some people just love to navigate by clicking on the bookmark bar. The compromise: If the user has previously configured the bar in IE or Firefox, Chrome will import the setup. Otherwise, users won’t have a bookmark bar unless they choose to. It’s incredible that something as potentially game-changing as a Google browser has stayed under wraps for two years. It wasn’t until mid-2007, about a year into the project, that the team let employees outside the group even see what they were doing. At the first of a series of Tech Talks featuring the current prototype (events designed, in part, as a way of recruiting internally for the ever-growing team) the reaction was volcanic. Googlers broke into spontaneous applause when various features, like dragging a tab into a new window, were demo’d. As the number of people who knew about Chrome increased, the inevitable occurred word did leak out to a blog or two, yet nothing came of those stray items. No reporter put it all together. “I think it was because rumors about Google browsers have been around so long it’s like sightings of Bigfoot or the Loch Ness Monster,” Upson says. On the eve of the launch, Pichai shares some of his ambitions for Chrome. How many people will use it? “Many millions,” he says. “I want my mom to use it. I want my dad to use it.” The Google imprimatur doesn’t assure success, but Pichai believes that even if Chrome doesn’t snare huge market share, its innovations will improve the landscape. “We benefit directly if the Web gets better,” he says. As launch approaches, the team has just moved into new space in a freshly renovated building on the Google campus, and there’s another all-hands gathering in the biggest conference room available. It’s standing room only. Milk and cookies are provided. After some initial business, Rakowski hands the floor over to Goodger. The rumpled engineer talks about the benefits of making Chrome an open source product the code will be publicly released and a community will emerge to determine the browser’s evolution. “We’ll be able to scale our testing efforts,” he says. “It’ll enable people to do things we haven’t thought of. And it’ll generate trust that we’re not doing something evil.” As the meeting breaks up, the energy level is over the top, and not just because of the sugar rush. The Chrome team is close to unleashing the product that Google was destined to create. First, though, there are five bugs to swat. Senior writer Steven Levy ([email protected]) also writes about Jay Walker’s in the October issue of Wired.

Infographic: Chrome Enters the Battleground of Browser Development

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