#decided against button holes since i have never buttoned a cardigan in my life

[spencers-dria]

Can you maybe write something where the reader meets spencer in prison and when they get out, they meet up and they have really rough and kinky sex like you can literally go as dirty and kinky as you want

Four Feet Apart

🎉150 follower celebration! Day 6

Spencer x fem reader

Content/Trigger Warnings: 18+ Smut, oral female receiving, anal play, blindfold/sensory play, and handcuff/restraint use, protected penetrative sex, mentions of murder, prison

The beginning is a little angst, little fluff, plenty of smut!

“Alright inmates, listen up! There’s been some budget cuts. For the time being, the old west wing building will be taken by overflow from the women’s prison.”

The guard’s voice was overtaken by wolf whistles and hollers.

“That’s enough! Now you will not share a building with them. You will not see them during meals. However the courtyards do share a fence. If you are caught harassing them in any way, you will be punished accordingly!”

The announcement had caught the attention of just about every inmate, except one. Spencer Reid had bigger problems to worry about than women. He didn’t get them outside of prison, so why should he worry about them on the inside. He needed to worry about how to stay safe, stay alive until his name was cleared. That is, until he met you.

_______________________________________

I sat on the bleachers, popping some bubble gum as I searched for some worthwhile eye candy. The sun was a bit hot so I shrugged my button down off my shoulders, opting to tie it around my waist, leaving me in a white tank. This of course leads to many wondering eyes and a few whistles from the men’s side of the fence. I’m not even sure what i’m looking for, but none of the men giving me the time of day have it. I finally notice a slender man sitting on the men’s bleachers, just a few feet away from the fence on his side. I scoot up , slipping my fingers through the women’s chain-link side. Of course I could never touch any of them, with each side having about four feet between their respective fences. But there were no rules against looking or talking even.

“Hey. Think too hard and you’re gonna mess up that pretty face of yours.”

He looks up a bit startled, but his posture changes once his gaze lands on me. He almost looks shy, which seems in direct contrast to his rugged look. But once I look in his eyes, I see depth and warmth and kindness that belongs far away from this place, and it hurts me for a moment, to think of what will happen to him here.

“I don’t bite. The name is Y/L/N. Got in for killing my ex husband. How about you?”

He blinked, speechless at first.

“Doc- I’m uh, Spencer Reid. They think I killed someone too…”

“Well, didn’t you?”

He shook his head. Based on the look in his eyes, I want to believe him I really do.

“Did you know that incarceration of women has been growing at twice the rate of men’s incarceration?”

“Now how in the world would you know that?”

He simply shrugged.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. Just looked like you could use some company is all.”

He looked like he wanted to respond, he really did. But before he got the chance, the women were called back inside.

I give a quick salute. “Nice meetin ya Spencer Reid. See ya when I see ya.”

___________________________________________

The next time I saw him he looked different. Scared, fragile, and a bit bloodied up.

“Hey- what uh- I mean, are you okay?”

He refused to look up or give much of an answer. But he was sitting in the same spot, close enough for us to have another conversation so I have to believe he wanted to talk again.

“I’m guessing you’re relatively new. It happened to me too ya know. Especially when I wouldn’t just go along with everything they asked.”

That drew his attention, and I could see tears in his eyes.

“You can’t let them see they get to you, that you’re scared. I learned that long before I got here though. That’s why I killed him ya know- he hurt me and I couldn’t just take it anymore. Police wouldn’t listen. I just wanted it to stop.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I shrugged it off. I’m paying my time but I’m safer in here than I ever felt with him.”

“Can you keep a secret?”

Now he has my attention. I nod, trying not to seem too excited to be sharing schoolyard secrets with the handsome stranger.

“I uh, was in the FBI. I was framed by a, well you can almost call her an arch nemesis of sorts.” He laughed to himself. It was a warm sort of laugh that filled me with butterflies. “I was just trying to get medicine for my mom. She has Alzheimer’s and schizophrenia. She was getting worse and I-“ his words are quickly cut off by the sounds of sniffles.

“Why are you telling me this?” I don’t mean it to be rude, but I had to know.

“I guess you could say I’m good at reading people and- you’re not a bad person. I trust you.”

In that moment, our eyes met again, but something new was there. Desire? Lust? Caring? Who knows. But that was the start of something. Of daily meetings, and quiet longing.

Day after day we would sit by our fences, sharing stories of our lives before prison. I learned that he was kind, hard-working, and actually quite funny. Spencer Reid was the best company I’d had in years, and not just within the prison walls.

He also told me about the rough time of it he was having on his own side. I gave him pointers where I could. How to get in with the right people, how to avoid the wrong ones, and how to get himself safe when necessary.

At one point, the politics on his side did endanger his life, and that’s when we came up with the plan together. A plan that would help take down the very man targeting him while getting Spencer somewhere safe for now. This meant I wouldn’t see him while he was in solitary, but we both knew it was necessary.

We never spoke about exactly what it was we wanted but- it was there. We devoured one another with our eyes. Biting and licking lips, drawn out breaths, and lingering gazes. We knew.

I watched him change overtime. His hair and beard grew yes, but so did this darkness in his eyes. The soft, Bambi-eyed boy was seemingly gone, replaced by a man who needed to hurt someone, anyone. And oh was I ready to let him hurt me.

I waited by the fence each day for his return, but it never came. I finally decided to ask around until I heard something that thrilled me but also left a huge gaping hole in me.

“He left.”

I couldn’t be happier for him. Had they cleared his name? From the sound of it, federal agents, friends of his had come to retrieve him. I could only hope that he was safe and happy.

Then one day I received a letter.

Dear Y/N,

I miss you. Just you. You made my time there worthwhile, worth missing. There’s so much more I wanted to say to you, and a letter just won’t do it justice. I have a feeling you’ll be out on parole sooner than you think. Come find me when you can. I’ll be in D.C..

Counting the days,

Spencer

____________________________________________

Parole? I had at least another year before that could even be a consideration. But I started counting too, which didn’t last long. Imagine my surprise when I got out on parole only two weeks after receiving the letter.

Did he- no he couldn’t, could he? Spencer had been gone for months. Clearly he had cleared his name, thank goodness. I knew I needed to see him as soon as possible.

I couldn’t leave the state, but luckily I didn’t need to. With what little I had, I made my way to D.C.. I figured I’d start out at the return address on the envelope, the one I clung to like my life depended on it.

With a bag slung over my shoulder, I raised my hand with the letter to hesitantly knock on the door, completely unsure of what to expect on the other side.

My mouth fell open at the sight before me. Spencer Reid in a cardigan, a tie? I had never seen him outside the prison. He looked so put together. And all I could think about was how much I wanted to tear him apart. I did my best to suppress my lust in hopes of a civil and normal greeting.

I don’t know what I expected. Tears, hugs maybe? We stood there staring at each other for who knows how long before I finally spoke. I’d had a well rehearsed speech in my head. One I’d had two whole weeks to work on since he sent the letter. But that all went out the window the second I saw his face again.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

Who was I kidding? We could see it in eachother’s eyes, the same desire from before, but stronger somehow. Maybe because it was quite literally within reach. Months of daydreaming about what it would feel like to touch him, kiss him, get absolutely railed by him.

The man I had met initially was so gentle, timid. I watched him change in that prison. I had initially imagined ruining him, breaking him for my own pleasure. By the time he left I wanted something completely different. I wanted him to do the breaking. I wanted him to use me for his own personal pleasure. And he knew it.

He grabbed my face to pull me in for an all consuming kiss that quite literally took my breath away. I had to pull back, gasping for air before I could get any words out.

“Missed you too.” I smiled.

“Can we take this to my bedroom?” The words came out rushed, as though he might die if he couldn’t have me in that very moment.

I give an enthusiastic nod. A small squeal and uncharacteristic giggle leaves my lips as he scoops me up in his arms, whisking me away to his bedroom.

“I’ve been waiting so long for this,” he pants, frantically removing his clothes. “Can you get undressed and lay down on your stomach for me?”

I follow his orders without question. He leans down by my ear and asks one question. “Safe word?”

“Cherry blossom.”

“Anything off limits?”

I don’t even have to think. “No, I trust you.”

Next thing I know I feel soft silk over my eyes as he ties a blindfold in place. This allows me to focus on the sounds of whatever else he is preparing. I hear a distinctly familiar jingle of metal, which is confirmed as it touches the skin of my wrists. Handcuffs. I wiggle my hips in delight, which earns me a playful spank.

“Like what you see?”

“I definitely can’t complain.” I can almost hear his smirk.

His fingers dig into my hips before pulling them up in the air. I feel cold air hit my core immediately.

“Fucking beautiful.”

Without any warning I feel a finger coated in cool lubricant coating my other opening.

“Try and relax for me, beautiful.” His fingers run through some of my hair, dragging across the skin of my back and I feel my muscles immediately follow his command. I attempt to mentally and physically prepare for whatever could be coming next.

I feel him work in what feels to be a decent sized anal plug. I’ve tried them before but only by myself. I’m already enjoying the added stimulation. My hips jolt when he suddenly brings his head down to lick up through my slit and I can’t help but yell.

“Fuck!”

“Mmm you like that, dirty girl? You’re quite literally dripping for me.”

He says it so calmly, I can hardly wrap my head around how smooth he’s being.

“Yes sir, please!” I beg.

“Please what, hmmm? What do you need?”

“Need you to eat my pussy please sir!”

Damn I sound absolutely pathetic. To think I ever considered myself a feminist. So much for my leg up on domineering men. Here I am willingly let one take me, have me anyway he wants. And that’s just the way I want it too. For Spencer Reid, I would be anything he needed.

“Good girl.” The two words have me writhing in pleasure with the combined sensation of his tongue back on the place I need it most. He sucks and laps at me like I'm his favorite dessert . He reads my body like a book, every movement and moan. He knows just what I need, when to let up, when to push harder. It’s unfair just how talented his mouth is.

And then, I’m coming undone on that beautiful mouth of his. Too bad I can’t see it. But oh it’s all I can imagine as waves of pleasure wreck my body and he’s running his fingers down my back, squeezing my ass as he gets in his final victory licks.

There’s a distinct sound of a condom wrapper, and I appreciate the consideration. I feel him sit on the bed next to me, against the headboard perhaps?

“Come sit on my lap.” His voice is dark and commanding, and my body is already responding with a fresh dose of arousal.

“But I can’t see sir.”

“No excuses. Come sit on my lap or you won’t get to come again.”

Not only can I not see, but my hands are still handcuffed behind my back. Not to mention my knees are weak from my most recent orgasm. This oughta be interesting. I try to scoot on my knees towards where I had heard his voice, only to lose my balance once I bump into his legs. I fall face first into his lap. Not the worst position to be in. I hear a soft, dark chuckle above me.

“Poor pathetic thing, are you already too weak? Can you handle another one?”

I swear, I never knew I was into degradation and humiliation. I don’t even know if I truly am, it's just something about him, about Spencer, that turns me on with everything he does.

“Yes sir, please! Please I can handle it! Let me try!”

I feel his fingers grasp my jaw, pulling my face up till I’m sitting on my knees again. I can feel his breath on my face and I wish I could just lean in and feel his lips on mine. My wish is granted for just a second. I feel his plush lips brush against mine, but they’re gone just as quick.

“Pretty thing. Let me help you, hmm.”

His long fingers wrap around my hips and guide me till I’m sitting in his lap, one leg on either side.

“Do you think you can ride me without your hands for balance?

“Yes sir!” I nod with an embarrassing eagerness.

“Show me, baby.”

I raise up and with his guidance again, lower myself until he’s making sure my other hole is filled as well.

Each bounce against his lap is adding pressure against the plug, combined with the bump of his cock against my cervix. With no sight, I’m so in tune with every sensation, especially the way his fingers feel roaming every inch of my body. He’s pinch my nipples, grabbing my ass, tugging at my hair. I may have been the one begging but he was clearly just as desperate.

When he decided he needs more, Spencer grabs my hips and starts thrusting up into me at a completely

ridiculous pace.

“You look so pretty bouncing on my cock. See for yourself, little girl.”

Before I have time to realize what he means, his beautiful fingers are ripping the silk away from my eyes, only to be met with absolutely heavenly eyes. They’re golden, warm, filled with lust but also something kinder. They devour my body like I’m his goddess. I absolutely love watching him enjoy the view. He licks his lips hungrily as he watches my breasts bounce and the way he looks sliding in and out of me.

Spencer pulls me in so he can leave a trail of kisses along my shoulders and neck. I love the way my face feels buried in his soft curls, he smells of lavender shampoo and it’s intoxicating. When he pulls back he’s got a knowing smirk on his face.

“What?”

In seemingly one move, I’m off his lap, on my back, with my hands pinned over my head.

“But the hand cuffs? How did you-“

Instead of answering he silenced me with an all consuming kiss. We’re biting, sucking, moaning, on one another like animals in heat. I can’t help but feel sorry for his poor neighbors.

He keeps my hands pinned above my head while realigning himself ready to pick back up where he left off. Before I can even register what’s happening he’s pounding into me like it’s his fucking job.

“You feel that? You feel how perfectly I fill you up? So pretty with my cock in you. Fuck- you take it so well!”

Words are gone from my mind. I’m left with moans, tears, and one name. Spencer.

“Spencer!”

He lets go of my arms and they instinctively wrap around his neck as I use my legs around his hips bringing him close.

“I’ve got you pretty girl. I’m here. Be a good little thing and come for me. Come on.”

I’m wrecked, shaking and moaning, unsure if I’ll ever be able to stop. He’s right there with me, filling me up in the best way. The pleasure is intensified by the extra pressure from the plug. I cling to him for dear life as I ride off my high, enjoying the way he looks above me. He’s angelic with the light sheen of sweat causing his skin to glisten in the low lighting, the natural sparkle of his eyes, the way his curls fall in his face, the pretty pink lips softly parted as he pants.

He’s dominant but also so soft and kind with me. It's clear tonight he cared about my pleasure just as much as his own. Maybe I don’t ever have to let him go. Maybe we can just stay here, twisted up in one another, blissfully unaware of all our troubles and the world around us.

I’m embarrassed at how much I whine as he gets off of me and slips away into the bathroom. I don’t know why I was surprised when he returns with a warm washcloth and lotion. He’s cleaning me up, tending to my wrists and any other spots sore from friction, and removing the plug. All the while he’s littering my skin with gentle kisses, all along my back and shoulders, my hips, my chest, my face. I’ve never been so pampered.

“Are you okay?” His voice is sweet and smooth like honey, leaving me tingling in the wake of its sweetness.

“Never better.” I leave kisses across his knuckles and he gives me that look again, like I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

After some convincing, I get up to use the bathroom, returning to a very sweet looking boy waiting for me under the covers, looking up with puppy dog eyes. I see the man I first met in the courtyard months ago. The one that stole my heart. I slip into the spot next to him, and we tangle back together, skin against skin. It’s so warm, soft, inviting and I think I’ll stay forever.

#criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer x reader #prison reid #post prison spencer #spencer reid x y/n

[artificialqueens]

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hold the lift!”

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

“Morning, girl!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

At her job, that is.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jan and Brooke shared a concerned look.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She looking for us?” Vanessa asked nervously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Only for a moment, though.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

She deserved better.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

B: How’s Bianca holding up?

A pause.

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

B: I really hope you haven’t.

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Brooke nodded silently.

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

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

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

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

Bianca smiled, glad to have received a sufficient reaction.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who, Jiggly?” Bianca asked, nonplussed.

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

“Yeah, Jiggly.”

“Bianca, her name isn’t Jiggly.”

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

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

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

“Jade Jolie.”

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

“Lashawn, then?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Vanessa or Jan?” Bianca questioned.

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

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

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

“Brooke Lynn!”

She turned around sharply.

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In the most platonic way possible, obviously.

***    

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“MEETING ROOM, NOW!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it happening?!” Scarlet asked, wide-eyes and open mouthed, like a child at Christmas.

“It’s happening now! It’s happening now. Two bullets in the back of the head, bang, bang!” Nina replied excitedly, her voice ringing through the offices as she mimed a brutal murder.

“Nina!” Vanessa hissed, motioning to the glass-fronted office where Bianca and Darienne were standing motionless, looking at Nina impassively. Horrified, she abruptly sat down in her seat.

“I can’t believe it’s actually going on right now. Fuck. She’s gonna hate me, ain’t she?” Vanessa worried, biting her nails. Jan slapped her hand away from her mouth.

“Stop that!” she reprimanded, Vanessa looking to the floor sheepishly. “She won’t hate you, and if she does, well, that’s politics. She’s a grown adult, she can handle it. She knew the profession she was entering into was ruthless.”

“Nobody could hate you,” Brooke added, brushing Vanessa’s cheek with her finger very slightly. “You’re like a fucking carebear. It’s impossible.”  

A pink blush crept over Vanessa’s face. “You two are too sweet to me, get outta here. Hey, have we heard about a replacement?”

Brooke sighed. “I don’t know if she’s accepted it or not yet, but Bianca told me Jackie Cox is in the running.”

Jan and Vanessa’s faces both screwed up. “Who the hell is that?”

“I went to Uni with her. I didn’t even know she was in the game until Bianca told me she’d scouted her out. I still think Jiggly would be better.”

“You mean Bianca Castro?” Jan raised one eyebrow.

“Fuck, yes. Now she’s got me doing it,” Brooke sighed, further confusing the two girls.

Suddenly, there was a creak from the office door. Darienne emerged, her posture perfect and her head held high as she walked towards the three girls. Her eyes were cold, so much so that Brooke found herself shivering a little.

“Right, well. Thank you, ladies, for your unwavering support. I wish you all very long and successful careers,” she said cooly, then her face darkened. “And I hope you all get heart failure.”

“Aw Darienne, c’mon!” Vanessa pleaded as the ex-Minister marched towards the lift, a storm cloud of rage. As Darienne stepped into the lift, Yvie began whistling Another One Bites The Dust under her breath and Scarlet started laughing so hard Brooke momentarily thought she was suffocating.

Brooke started laughing too. She had to, she couldn’t help it. This pathetic, et tu, Brute? act was wearing. Jan was right, these were the rules of the damn game. People in the department had come and gone as if Dosac was a massive revolving door and Darienne had never shed a tear for them. Brooke hated the hypocrisy that was so freely batted about in politics. Mourning a departure with a simple “it’s a shame, but they had to go” and then acting like the damn Godfather when your own time came. There was no dignity in it, no class.

“Ding dong, the useless fucking bitch is dead,” Bianca deadpanned, Vanessa relaxing and giggling a little at the slightly less high-intensity Bianca.

“What happens now, then?” Brooke asked her. “Did Jackie take the job?”

“Like a trout on a hook. Barely even had to sell it to the kid. Right, here’s the line!” Bianca suddenly yelled, loud enough that Darienne could probably hear it from the ground floor. “Darienne will be giving a statement outside Number 10 in fifteen minutes. After that, all I want to hear is praise. Praise, praise, praise, Psalm one hundred and fucking one. At 12pm, you guys will have a new Minister. Nina, it’s your job to break her in. Break her fucking spine if necessary.”

Nina nodded apprehensively, unsure of how serious Bianca was.

“I’ll see you all again at half 12. Oh, and Destiny’s Child?” Bianca said, turning suddenly to address Brooke, Vanessa and Jan as she hit the button of the lift. “It won’t be necessary to clear your desks if you don’t plan on leaving.”

As Bianca left Vanessa turned excitedly to Brooke and Jan, grinning madly as she gave them a huge hug, happy at being allowed to stay.

Brooke decided she’d probably have quite literally stabbed Darienne in the back in order to have that smile flashed at her again.

***

“Ladies, I’d like to introduce your new Minister for the Department of Social Affairs and Citizenship…Jackie Cox!”

Everyone started clapping, but in equal measures scrutinising the tall girl in front of them, standing beside Nina nervously and waving hello. She hadn’t changed all that much since Brooke had last seen her. Her hair was still long, swept back into a neat pearl headband so that her dark waves fell down her back instead of over her shoulders. Her makeup was simple as it always had been: a few swipes of mascara, a dark brown eye pencil to bring out her equally dark eyes, a dusky rose shade on her lips. She was in a matching red suit jacket and tailored skirt, and had red heels on to match. Brooke’s feet were beginning to get sore in her own heels, tired from standing in line with Vanessa and Jan waiting to welcome Jackie. She didn’t have to wait much longer though as Jackie was already shaking Vanessa’s hand, smiling and gushing about how she was so honoured to take up the position and how she was so looking forward to working with her. Brooke stared at her, a little irritated with the dramatics. Jackie then moved on to Jan who was standing in the middle of the line. Brooke watched as they both looked at each other, Jan sort of open-mouthed and Jackie seemingly finding it hard to formulate words.

“You must be Janette. It’s so good to meet you,” she finally said as she shyly held out her hand. Jan took it, shaking it gently.

“It’s good to meet you too. And, uh, Jan’s fine. My friends call me Jan. Not that you’re my friend, of course, you’re my boss. But uh. You can still call me that,” Jan mumbled, her voice quiet and a little nervous and her eyes not once tearing away from Jackie’s.

“Right! Sure. I, um. I hope you’re staying on?” Jackie asked, her voice a little hopeful as she gave Jan a smile, her teeth white and dazzling.

“Absolutely. I can’t wait to start working with you! It’ll be, uh. Jan-tastic!” Jan raised her eyebrows a little as she made her joke, Jackie giving a polite laugh of her own. Brooke’s brow furrowed in confusion, the corners of her mouth turning down slightly. What the fuck was this?

“Well, I’m really excited to get started. It was so good meeting you, Jan,” Jackie smiled, giving Jan one last look as she finally tore her eyes away and faced Brooke. Her face immediately changed, taking on an awkward sort of expression as it was clear she had no idea what to say to Brooke. “Brooke Lynn! Hi! What a nice surprise! Gosh, it’s been a while!”

“Yeah, like, eight years. You look good,” Brooke replied curtly, not really instantly warming to Jackie despite her efforts.

“It’ll be nice working together. Just like at uni! I didn’t really believe it when Bianca said you were here!”

“Yeah, well. I’m just climbing the ladder. Where have you been these past few years, anyway?”    

“Just the stock exchange. It was always the economic side of our degree I was more interested in, but when Bianca phoned me I thought this was a pretty unmissable opportunity!” Jackie beamed at an unimpressed Brooke. Receiving no reply, she stepped back a little awkwardly. “Anyway, it’s nice that you’re here. I’d better start my briefing, so I’ll speak with you later?”

Brooke nodded wordlessly as Jackie click-clacked away. Say ‘nice’ again, bitch, I dare you.

Vanessa tilted her head as she watched Jackie retreat, her glossy hair swaying.

“Well, I like her. I think she’s gonna be good,” she concluded, clasping her hands together. Brooke narrowed her eyes at Jan, whose gaze was still fixed on Jackie.

“Jan-tastic? What the hell was that?”

Jan gave her a funny look. “What?! You know I love a pun.”

“Not just that. What about your MP thing? You’re seriously going to pass that opportunity up?”

Jan leant back against the glass door of Darienne’s old office, gazing dreamily at nothing in particular. “Um…yeah. Yeah, I think I’ll stay on. I’m still young, I’ve got time for the whole MP endeavour in a few years’ time. No, I think I’ll stick around here for a bit longer. Things might get interesting.”

Still confused at Jan’s sudden change of heart, Brooke shook her head and shrugged. In her opinion Jan was out of her mind, but if that was her decision then that was that. As Vanessa and Jan chatted excitedly Brooke made her way back to her desk, her head kind of in a daze. A lot was happening and she didn’t really know what the next few months were going to be like. An economist in a political position wasn’t new, but she was still reserved about welcoming Jackie with open arms. Still, whatever would happen she was glad that she had Vanessa and Jan to stumble through it all with.

God, she was glad Vanessa was staying.

Looking over to the Comms team she saw that Yvie’s computer was displaying the BBC website, where a live stream of Darienne’s resignation speech was playing. Yvie was sat in her chair, Jaida crouching at her right and Scarlet at her left, Adore peering over Scarlet’s shoulder as Darienne set down her sheets of paper and walked away from the lectern set up outside Downing Street. Yvie threw her hands in the air as if she was praising God.

“The old Minister is dead,” she cried dramatically. “Long live the Minister!”

#rpdr fanfiction #ortega #different people different arguments #branjie #jankie #the thick of it crossover #government au #british au #lesbian au #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #jackie cox #jan sport #nina west #yvie oddly #scarlet envy #jaida essence hall #bianca del rio #adore delano #darienne lake

[beccarooni]

Space Bros

(A.N: my first asgardians of the galaxy fic! Took me a while, sorry about the wait. This is mostly inspired by that thing about Chris Pratt being able to braid hair. Thanks to @woahthisguy for helping me out with dialogue!)

“No, one of us has to do something. This has gone too far already.“ 

"I don’t see what the problem is. The Angel-God should be able to wear what he likes.”

“Drax, you haven’t worn a shirt in…any of the time I’ve known you. Forgive me if I don’t take your sense of style too seriously.”

“For someone who can’t even reach the table, you-”

Quill leaned against the doorway, watching as the ‘friendly debate’ between Drax and Rocket once again got out of hand. That seemed to be happening a lot recently. Well, he supposed they’d always been a bit like that. And that was what he liked about them, really. Sure, the Avengers were great and all, but they were just so…serious. Serious about their friendships, their battle plans - it was all a bit of a bummer to witness. Which was partly the reason why he’d been so opposed to having Thor join them in the first place. When they’d first met him, he’d been a serious mood killer. Tall, dark, handsome, and an all round axe-wielding angst machine that made his team go crazy. 

And then the blip happened, and suddenly that guy was gone. To where, Quill didn’t exactly know. All he did understand was that somewhere between then and now, all of the anger and pain that Mantis had first witnessed had been shoved somewhere deep under the surface of the Asgardians skin. 

If he was being honest the whole ‘missing 5 years of his life’ thing was still freaking him out. He’d been dead for five years. Rocket had mourned for him, for the whole damn team, for five years. And then all of a sudden he was running out of a portal shooting weird space-creatures, and he was just supposed to deal with all that? 

Things were stressful, and all he’d really wanted to do was go to space, play his tapes, and pretend not to notice the way Rocket stared at them all- like he wasn’t sure if they were even real. 

But then Thor had asked to stay. He’d asked to come with them, just for a little while, and what was he supposed to do? Say no? 

He may have had his disagreements with Thor in the 20 minutes he’d known him, but that was the old Thor. The frankly kind of scary one. This one, with the longer hair and the wild beard and the laughter that seemed just a bit too close to crying - Quill could handle this one. He could understand him, tolerate him, maybe. 

And with their travels of course had come a bit of bonding, no matter how Quill had tried to prevent it. Thor was a likeable guy, with no shortage of crazy stories to tell. Granted, Quill had tuned out at first. Combat stories were all well and good, but when you’d fought a planet who happened to also be your dad, other things started to fall a little flat. 

But then, Thor had started talking about love. 

About a scientist with curly hair and brown eyes, and a giant with green skin and a crooked smile, and that had got Quill’s attention. He’d never been to Asgard - the Ravagers had scared him away from that golden fortress with tales of security systems that seemed straight out of Quill’s own personal nightmares - but even just listening to the man talk about love was like getting smacked in the face with a Shakespearean sonnet. 

Quill got that. He got love that was so intense it made your heart want to explode out of your chest. It was kind of devious, really. Thor had roped him into conversations and now dared to use his charm on him? To win him into a friendship? 

Disgusting. Illegal. Quill would’ve challenged him to a laser-gun based duel if Thor wasn’t the only person on the spaceship who would high five him no matter the occasion. 

But then the eventual day had come where Thor had decided to leave them. To go back home and check on New Asgard, and most importantly to see Bruce. Thor had said “For the first time in about 3 years!” With a sense of levity, and for the most part he’d been happy for him. 

And then Groot had asked what Thor was planning to wear for a 3 year space reunion. 

And then all hell had broken loose. 

All because Thor had gestured to a pair of sweatpants and a jumper and said the fateful words, “these are fine”. 

“Listen, I’ve met his Bruce, alright? Dude wears button up shirts and cardigans. That’s code for being a big green fancy man.” Rocket shook his head, clawing his way back onto the table to poke Drax in the chest.  “That means no sweatpants.”

“He’s a god!” Drax retorted, twirling a knife in hand which Quill was really hoping he wasn’t planning to use. “If I had a lover capable of tearing apart spaceships, I would bed him regardless of pants!”

“Oh my God, we get it Drax. You’re horny for Thor.”

Quill rolled his eyes, failing to hide the fond smile that was creeping over his face. Honestly - he’d truly picked some of the weirdest people in the galaxy to share his life with. 

But he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Maybe they’d never really admit to him being their captain, or see him as their leader. At least, not in the way the Avengers saw that dude in the spangly outfit. But maybe being the captain was more than that. 

Maybe being the captain was loving his team, as cheesy as it sounded, even with all their weirdness. 

Being the captain meant taking care of his crew. And with his eyes drifting away from the table, and down to the darkened hull of the ship, Quill began to suspect that there might be someone else that needed taking care of. 

He pushed away from the wall with perhaps a little more speed than he needed to (in all honesty it was more to avoid Drax’s next weird sex anecdote than with any urgency regarding their resident Thunder Dude, but no one else needed to know that), walking along the various rooms to get to Thor’s bunk. Prior to the asgardians arrival that room had been the designated 'Random Garbage’ room, and had become the largest victim of Rocket’s serious weapon-hoarding problem. It had taken a whole week, and several close calls regarding bomb explosions to clear the place out, and even longer to procure a bed suitable for someone who could summon lightning at will, and who was one bad dream away from conjuring a hurricane. 

He knocked on the door, casting his eyes over the Nordic runes that had been painted over it with a crooked grin. Thor had spent a decent amount of time teaching the guardians Asgardian, more specifically, Asgardian curse words. Not a mission went past now that wasn’t littered with words that would make the Allfather blush, and the not-so-subtle warning to 'Keep Out’ that was posted over Thor’s door was no exception. 

“Just a minute!” 

There was the sound of something smashing from behind the door, and the thud of footfalls followed until the metal panel was thrown open with a clang that made Quill wince - the Asgardian’s slightly flushed face staring back at him. 

“Oh, hello." 

Thor’s face brightened in something close to surprise, as if Quill was a neighbour who’d popped round for a quick chat. 

"Did you need something, Quill? I was just packing." 

"Thought you might need some help." 

He grinned back, peeking his head through the door at the chaos inside. Clothes were strewn over chairs and tables, random axes and swords piled precariously onto any surface that could handle them. And some that definitely couldn’t. 

"Ah, yes. That would be…appreciated." The Demigod clapped Quill on the shoulder in a brief show of thanks, guiding him forward into the war zone he’d created within the span of half an hour. 

"I must apologise for the mess. Had a bit of trouble trying to find clean clothes.”

“Yeah, join the club, pal.” He shook his head, nudging through a pile with his feet. “Spaceship living. Hard on the laundry, harder on the privacy." 

Thor chuckled from across the room, pacing about what little free floor remained as he watched Quill attempt to navigate through it. 

Now, Quill was no stranger to mess. His spaceship was frequently labeled as a blatant violation of any and all safety protocols that existed for rag-tag groups of space bandits (which, surprisingly, there were quite a few of). But something about this mess seemed…off. Clothes had been strewn about, not by laziness or necessity, but what looked like anger. And there were a few still sparking holes in the walls that were definitely made from fists. 

"You uh…” Quill rubbed at the back of his head, trying to think of the right words to say to get to the bottom of this. “You excited about going back?" 

"Hm?” Thor glanced up, brows furrowing as he mulled over the answer. “Well, of course. It’s been a while since I’ve seen everyone. It’ll be nice to catch up.”

“You’re not nervous?" 

"Nervous? Why would I be nervous?" 

Quill shrugged, lifting up a shirt that was still glowing red with embers before dropping it with a hissed curse. 

"Just seems like you’re a bit freaked out about it, is all. Which is understandable, I mean. I’d probably be freaked out too.”

“I’m not nervous.” Thor’s frown deepened considerably, a few stray sparks flying from his fingertips. “I’m…excited. Excited, happy, very happy to see them all again. Not nervous. That’d be stupid.”

“Not even about seeing Bruce?" 

A pause followed before Thor’s next answer, and for a moment Quill was worried he’d crossed a line. The dark shadow that crossed the demigods face was a sharp reminder of the Thor they’d first picked up all those years ago - the sad one, the furious one. The broken one. 

"I don’t -” Thor began, his voice breaking off into silence. He lifted a hand to his mouth, shutting his eyes briefly against what quill was sure were tears, allowing the tremor in his voice to settle before continuing. 

“I don’t know if I can face him like this, Quill.”

“Wait, like what?”

“Like this. This, all of this!”

Thor gestured to himself, his face set into a deep scowl as his hands clawed at his clothes, his hair - all with a ferocity that made Quill grimace in sympathy. 

He didn’t quite know how to handle this, and he was honestly a little nervous to even try. Petty arguments between friends, he could stand. Friendly touches and comforts were things that he could easily dispense, if he needed to. 

If Rocket was angry, he’d want to be left to cool off with a handful of machinery and some light music. If Mantis was sad, she’d want a hug, and something funny to make her laugh. If Gamora, or Drax, or Groot, or any one of his team members needed something, he knew what it was, and when to provide it. 

But Thor was new. Even after 2 years, he was new. 

He’d been about to open his mouth to offer him some privacy when Thor interrupted, his voice low and just so tired. 

“I only went to space to get better. I was supposed to be happy again, and I’m just…not. Coming back like this? Without changing anything about myself? It feels like I’ve failed him, and I promised myself I was done with failure." 

The clenched fists and hunched shoulders really weren’t giving Quill much to go on comfort-wise, but he was done with standing awkwardly at the sidelines. It was time to be the captain. 

Awkwardly stepping over the various piles of junk, Quill finally arrived at the demi-gods side, planting a firm hand onto his shoulder. 

"Look, I don’t know Bruce. Never met the guy, and I don’t fancy going back to earth anytime soon so I doubt I ever will. All I’ve got on him is what you’ve told me." 

And jesus, had he been told a lot. He thought back on it - on the descriptions of a smile that was rare but so, so bright. Of restless hands constantly moving from experiment to experiment, yet still always managed to find time to hold Thor when he needed it. Of someone who seemed delicate, but really was as tough as they came, who’d been through so much in such a short time but still dedicated every minute of his life to helping others. 

Thor had painted a picture of a scientist, and a giant, who loved with as much fire and splendor as a collapsing star. 

Quill smiled softly, tightening his hold in what he hoped was a comforting squeeze, but honestly Thor’s skin could take a bullet and barely even bruise so he wasn’t sure if he’d even felt it. 

"The only way you’d be failing him is if you didn’t come back at all.”

Thor sniffed, and Quill’s brain was screaming at him for a solid 5 second interval that ’you just made the God of Thunder cry, Quill. What the hell is wrong with you, Quill. You walk in to help him clear up his room and within the span of 5 minutes he’s started sobbing and you’re considering throwing yourself out of the airlock, Quill.’

But then he caught a small smile, shaky and ever so slightly water-logged, but present, and he allowed himself to breathe. 

Thor straightened his back, wiping at the sides of his eyes and trying his very best to drown out the crying with a Manly Cough. 

It didn’t really work, but Quill had enough sense in his brain to ignore that part, and forge forward with his role as emotional support captain. 

“But, I think the rest of the team would kill me if I let you go out without sprucing up your image a little bit.”

Thor raised an eyebrow, folding his arms protectively across his chest. "Did you have something in mind?“ 

"Well…" 

**

20 minutes later, Quill was perched on the edge of the bed, brows screwed tightly together in concentration as he stared at the copious amounts of blonde hair currently tangled in his fingers. 

He’d learned many skills as a Ravager. Breaking into vaults, impeccable aim with his blasters, and somewhere along the line a particularly long-haired ravager had taught him the art of braiding. He hadn’t used that skill in a long time, at least before the guardians had come along. Now it seemed every evening he was braiding back Mantis’s hair, and if he was being honest, he was getting pretty good at it. 

A small chuckle from Thor as he looked in the mirror confirmed his suspicions, and gave him a well needed ego boost. 

"This might be the peak of my career, dude.” Quill leaned back, pulling at a couple of loose strands, earning him a warning crackle of lightning from the asgardians fingers. 

“Seriously. Should I become a barber?”

“I think guarding the galaxy is a somewhat higher priority than hair styling.”

“Nah. This is way better. I feel like picasso after finishing the Mona Lisa.”

“What?” Thor turned slightly, prompting Quill to swat at his shoulder as he tied the final few strands into place. 

“I don’t know, I only got an 8th grade education. Leave me alone." 

Quill brushed his hands against his knees, admiring his now finished handiwork with a proud grin. 

"You do look kickass, though.”

“Agreed.”

Thor twisted this way and that in front of the mirror, fingers tracing their way along the length of the braid that just brushed his shoulder blades. 

He got to his feet, turning slightly to place his hands onto Quill’s shoulders in a sudden movement that made a rather undignified noise come out of his mouth. 

“Uh-” Quill’s brain short circuited for a moment, trying to come up with some snarky response and drastically failing to do so. "What are we doing?“

"When I first got here, we didn’t get along too well. And that was partly my fault - I think I came across as a little intimidating." 

”Oookay…”

“Which is ridiculous. You should value yourself more, Quill.”

Thor smiled, moving to pull Quill into what would go down in history as his most awkward, yet somehow most comforting hug he’d ever had. 

“Your talents are varied and I am in no competition with you. You’re a good man. And I thank you for your hospitality these past few years.”

“O-oh.”

Quill managed to stutter through, kicking his brain hard enough to get it to respond in at least some meaningful way, even if that was just reaching up to pat Thor on the shoulders before the two broke apart again. 

“It’s…it’s no problem. You know you’re always welcome here. Even if you make the team go a little crazy.“ 

Thor laughed at that, reaching up to scratch at his beard slightly, his eyes once again turning back to the mirror beside them. 

"It does look nice." 

"Yeah.” Quill nodded, reaching forward to brush an imperceptible smudge of dirt from their resident god’s shoulder. 

“It does." 

**

"Y'know, I’m gonna miss having Blondie around.”

Rocket hopped up onto Quill’s shoulder, watching from the viewing window as a large green gentleman lifted Thor clean off the ground, swinging him in a circle as the two clung together. 

“Where else am I gonna find enough electricity to power all of my stuff?”

“I’m sure we’ll be seeing him again soon." 

"We better. Some of this stuff is seriously unstable.”

“Rocket." 

"I mean, seriously. Like world ending." 

"Oh my God.”

#thorbruce #asgardians of the galaxy #fanfic #thor #peter quill #guardians of the galaxy #rocket raccoon #drax the destroyer #bruce banner #avengers endgame spoilers #post endgame #thunderscience #gammahammer #thruce #<3k #light angst

[igotthatggukgguk]

low fidelity → jjk pt.2

pairing → fratboy!jungkook, fem reader, fratboy!taehyung genre → college!au, fratboy!au, fluff, comedy, smut in the future? warning/s → MATURE CONTENT ( SCOOT AWAY LITTLE CHILD)

You seriously didn't remember what happened between you and Nancy that she managed to successfully convince you to attend the party at Beta Tau Sigma, because you are starting to regret it. Really regret it.

It was friday night and you were wearing a backless black dress that displayed your flawless bare posterior. Well, of course not on your own accords. Your prior choice of clothing was a pair of black tights and a baggy sweatshirt but Nancy couldn't stop rambling about how you look like an unfuckable dry nun so she pulled out the sluttiest possible outfit in her wardrobe for you to wear.

"Nance, this thing isn't doing me justice. It literally covers nothing." You whined while pulling the low neckline up to cover your chest as the both of you made your way to the entrance of the frat house. Nancy was a bit plumper than you were so the dress was a bit loose around the boob area but you were a lot taller than her so the hemline that was supposed to reach your mid-thigh, stopped just below your ass.

"Good." She giggled.

There were people from other sororities and frats too. Like, well-known people. Literally. You saw YouTubers, instafamous even new actors. As usual, BTS never failed to maintain their title as the best party host in the history of LAU.

Once you two were at the door, you were met with two freshmen which you assume were the designated bouncers of the night.

"Hello, ladies." The shorter one greeted.

"Hi, we're with Yoongi."

"Alright, miss. Might as well get a little comfortable. It's gonna be wild in there." He said as he handed use two cans of beer.

"Thanks." You smiled half-heartedly in return.

Oh boy, the boy wasn't kidding when he said it would be wild. The party was feral. When Yoongi invited Nancy, he might've forgotten to mention that it was going to be a foam party. Loud EDM music was blaring at the maximum volume and the lights inside were dim and purplish. People were doing all sorts of things. Dancing, drinking, talking and doing god knows what. A few brothers were situated on the second floor, splashing more foams on top of the party crowd. They seemed like they were having the time of their life when they succesfully poured the foams on the targeted group of hot girls as they shriek sheepishly.

"Holy fuck, Y/N. I've never been to BTS' party before. I never thought it would be this lit!" Nancy exclaimed, gaping at the boisterous scene in front of her. "Oh look! there's Yoongi!" She gushed, pointing at the red-headed dude. It wasn't long until the man finally notices us and made his way closer.

"Nancy babe! Glad you could make it tonight! You even brought a friend. Hi, I'm Yoongi." He said, giving Nancy a chaste kiss not too long after.

"Yeah, heard a lot about you. I'm Y/N by the way." You smiled back. Yoongi was noticeably tipsy, that explains his overfriendliness when he pulled you into a side hug. He guided the two of you through the house and hung out a minute or two at the back porch. Soon, Nancy and you parted as she followed Yoongi somewhere else and you were left alone at the bench outside.

Thanks a lot Nancy. You were the one to drag me to this hell hole and now you're leaving me alone. Just my fucking luck.

You opened the can of beer from earlier and chugged down a big gulp, wrinkling your nose at the unfamiliar taste. When was the last time I've had alcohol? Yikes.

You took some time to scan the environment around you. People were dancing and grinding against each other. Intoxicated and very visibly horny. It seemed like most of the girls were aware of the theme since the majority of them wore bikinis and shorts. You could count with your fingers how many girls you've spotted wearing a dress. One girl from Kappa Zeta, Bae Irene and one girl from your own sorority, Jungah.

You were too engrossed with the scene in front of you to notice the presence next to you. "Y/N?"

You turned your head abruptly, eyes meeting a familiar pair of brown orbs. Oh shit.

"Is that really you? God, it's been years since I've last seen you here. I think the last time you came here was during freshman year and you were definitely not this hot. Damn." The boy chuckled, biting his lips.

"Yeah, I've been occupied with studies Taehyung. If you're not aware, that's the actual reason we go to college." You said, a tinge of sarcasm masking your sentence.

"Damn Y/N, you really know how to suck the fun out of things." You shrugged nonchalantly at the remark.

"Guess there's a reason why they call me 'fun sucker'."

Taehyung laughed boyishly.

You could feel his eyes raking your body intensely as if he was a dog and you were a piece of meat.

"Seriously though, you look hot tonight. I don't know if it's the makeup, the dress or just you, but it's working. I've had 4 brothers asking me about you." Really? You thought.

You blushed and playfully hit his arm. "Oh shut up, Tae. You're just trying to kiss my ass."

"Literally or hypothetically?" He joked.

You gasped at his innuendo looked at him in shock. Taehyung giggled, clearly amused with your reaction. He slinked an arm around your torso casually making you flinch. You looked at his face. Taehyung smirked down at you. Damn you, pretty boy. You marveled the sight of Taehyung in fornt of you, his short chestnut brown hair, his smug expression, and boy does he look good in black t-shirts.

"You're so pretty." He said. "Has any ever told you that, baby?" His voice dropped an octave lower. You stomach churned at the endearment. Taehyung used his other free hand to pull you closer to him as he pushes your body against a wall. His face was painfully near that you could even smell the alcohol in his breath, mixed with his cologne. That painfully familiar cologne.

Your heart was beating like crazy. It was going haywire but you were determined not to be lured into this trap. Again. But no matter what you do, Taehyung has this effect on you where he makes it hard for you to do things at your own consent. You were too stunned by him to do anything.

He leaned his face closer and closer to the point that your noses were touching. You stared into his eyes half-liddedly. You were sure he was going to kiss you until...

"Kim Taehyung!" A voice interrupted. You heaved a sigh of relief mentally. Thank god. Taehyung pulled back from you and rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed by the intrusion. He looked at you one last time and ruffled your hair playfully.

"You should come here more often, babe. I've missed you so much." You just nodded.

"Oi, Kim Taehyung! Get your fucking ass over here." The same voice called again.

He looked at you for assurance. You gave him a tight-lipped smile and motioned him to go along.

"Move along, freak." He gave you a slight chuckle before walking away. You stared as he made his way closer and closer to whom you assumed was Park Jimin, a dance major. It's not like you stalked them or anything. It just happened that BTS is so popular because they literally have slept with almost every girl on campus, including you.

Jimin grabbed Taehyung by his neck playfully as he dragged him to the other side of the room where two girls were waiting and giggling. You decided not to stare anymore. The sight of Taehyung with someone else somehow still managed to leave a some sort burn in your heart.

You decided to grab some more alcohol so you made your way to the kitchen where you knew where they kept their drinks.Once you were there, you opened the cabinet in the corner and found the hidden stash of good alcohol. You took out a bottle of tequila and a glass shot from the counter.

"Hey, that's not allowed ma'am!" A voice interrupted. You startled and turned around to see who it was.

The guy was wearing an LAU shirt with denim button ups as a cardigan and a camera was around his neck. His has was messily pushed back revealing his handsome forehead and his brown eyes were piercing into yours. You swore you weren't drooling as he made his way closer to you.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know." You apologized.

He frowned in response just to laugh it off after. "You're not really thinking of drinking that all by yourself, are you?" He asked jokingly and you just smiled back. "Wanna have some drinks?" You invited. The boy nodded. "It would be rude to decline an offer from such a beautiful lady." He winked at you. You felt you cheeks heating and becoming hot as a flaming hot cheetos. You couldn't keep yourself from smiling.

"I'm Jungkook, by the way."

"Y/N"

"Oh, aren't you Taehyung's girlfriend?" He exclaimed. Your chest tightened at the mention of his name.

"Ex-gilfriend." You corrected, emphasizing the first word.

"Sorry to hear that, what happened between you two?"

"It's a long story."

Jungkook frowned at the tone of your voice.

"Wanna talk about it?" He suggested as he poured in some liquid in the shot glasses. You were a bit taken aback by his forwardness. You literally just met him for like 10 minutes and he's already asking you the details of your past relationship?

"I barely know you." You scoffed.

"That doesn't make me less of a good listener." He confided.

You deliberately nodded, agreeing with his response. "Well, if you insist."

You took a shot of the cheap tequila, a burning sensation flooding throat. Jungkook did the same, except he didn't looked bothered in the slightest.

You asked if there was somewhere more private where you could talk and he somehow took you to the balcony of his room.

"You share your room with that Jimin dude?" You asked at the sight of Jimin's picture at the side of the bed.

"Yeah, he's a cool guy. Totally pure when he first joined, look at him now." He exclaimed making you laugh.

"You're a bad influence."

"How am I a bad influence? I don't even do those type of things. If anybody were to be a bad influence, it would be Namjoon and his porn addiction." He added.

You chuckled and shook your head lightly in amusement. Jungkook slide the door open to access the balcony and the two of you settled on the bean bag that was placed on the floor.

"Spill the tea, sis." Jungkook said as he crossed both of his arms behind his head. Your eyes automatically focused on his biceps as he flexed his arms.

You shook your head to snap out of it. You couldn't believe the fact that you're telling this to a stranger. Heck, you've never even told Nancy about what happened between you and Taehyung. Well, I guess someone has to know. Who could be better than a stranger? Well, now that you've thought it through, Jungkook's not really a complete stranger. You've had your call of small encounters with him at school, you definitely recognise his face but you never got the chance to actually know him.

"Well, how do I start?"

•Freshman year in college•

You were on your way to a cafe nearby your campus to grab some light snacks before the next lecture starts.

You looked at your phone to check the time and realised that it was still kinda early so you decided to stop by and have some coffee and unwind for a bit.

The bell chimed as you walked into the cafe and the workers greeted you.

"I'd like an iced frappe and a scone. Do you think you could also pack me two ham sandwiches? Thank you."

"Yes miss, the total would be 12 dollars."

You were just about to take your wallet out when a hand appeared from behind and handed the money for you.

"It's okay, I'll pay." You wanted to decline the offer but as soon as you turned around to see the owner of the money, you froze. Gawking at the man like he was some type greek god. He was wearing a white button down his top two buttons were left undone, revealing his honey tan skin.

"I-It's okay! I can pay for my own food." You said, face flushed and stuttering.

"No, I insist. You can pay me back by going put with me though." You eyes went wide as saucers at the latter statement.

Am I hearing things here? Is he really asking me out?

"Princess? What do you say?" He confirmed your thoughts.

"Sure!" You beamed at him.

"Great, I'll pick you up at 7. You're from Chi Omega, right."

"Yeah, how'd you know?" You asked, grabbing the coffee and pastries before taking a seat at the nearest table, the boy doing the same.

"Well, don't be scared but I might've stalked you a little." He confessed.

The two of you talked for a while and you found out that his name was Kim Taehyung and he was an art major from the fraternity Beta Tau Sigma. You were a bit shocked when he said it because as a freshman, you knew BTS was the big deal. The jocks of college.

You went back to the campus and got to class just in time when Professor Jung entered with her big computer in hand.

Throughout the class, you had the focus level of a labouring cow. You couldn't stop thinking about him and you counted seconds before the lecture was over and rushed back to your sorority.

You kicked open the door of your shared room and squealed. "Nancy, nancy, nancy!!! Guess what? Kim Taehyung from Beta Tau Sigma just asked me out today!"

"No fucking way! You lucky bastard!"

Nancy was your best friend since high school. It so happened that she also applied to LAU to do fashion modelling. You were elated to have found out that she was going to be in the same sorority as you and even more so when the two of you became roommates.

____________________________________

It was 7 and you couldn't tame the butterflies in your tummy. You had chosen to wear a white halter top lace dress and nude sandals, paired with a natural makeup. Not gonna lie, you looked stunning in the outfit and you hoped he liked it too.

A few minutes later, a black BMW drove into the drive way and a man in a black leather jacket came out. Your stomach churned at the sight of Taehyung in the manly outfit with his hair pushed back messily, but in a good way that made him look so delectable.

The worst thing was, you were ovulating. That meant, everything he did was extra sexy and you couldn't contain yourself from having dirty thoughts about what you wanted to do with him.

" Wow y/n, you look stunning."

You giggled as he took in your appearance.

"You too."

Taehyung had taken you to a nightclub. Interesting choice of place, I know. You did have fun though and you drank so much that night, you were positive you passed out.

The next thing you knew, you woke up in a completely foreign room. You were wearing nothing but an oversized black t-shirt and you felt heat radiating from behind you and turned around to see Taehyung still soundly sleeping.

A sharp pain shot through your head as a reminder of last night's event. Crap.

"Taehyung, man. Have you seen my — woah." A boy clad in just his boxers came blasting into the room and grew speechless at the sight of you and Taehyung.

"It's not what you think!" You explained.

"Chill sister, it's college. You can do whatever you want."

Taehyung groaned from behind you. "Babe, you up already?"

"Yeah, thanks for last night Tae. It was seriously fun but I've got to get going. I have a class at 10." You said and kissed his forehead.

"You know what? I'm gonna go." The boxer boy exclaimed, clearly disturbed with the public display of affection.

"Hey Namjoon, put a sock on the door knob will ya?" Taehyung shouted as the boy made his way out and shut the door.

You're not that naive, you know what he meant when said it. You were confused.

"Gross!" Yes shouted but did so nonetheless.

Taehyung laughed at you baffled expression. You eyes bulged when he casually pushed you on your back and straddled you.

"You have a dirty mouth, baby." You squinted your eyes at him.

"You drove my nuts yesterday, whispering dirty things you wanted to do to me." He said in a hush tone, his lips subtly teasing your the side of your jaw.

Shit.Shit.Shit.Shit.Shit. I'm never gonna fucking drink anymore. You cupped your face in embarrassment.

"What did I say?" He chuckled at your cuteness and pried your fingers off of your face. Your lips parted in awe of his gorgeous face, his bed head made him even sexier.

"How about I show you instead? Just skip the class and I'll show you." With that, he took the opportunity of your parted lips to swoop you into an open-mouthed kiss, his hands pinning yours at the side of your head.

And that was it, you had your virginity taken by him. Kim Taehyung.

After the event took place, you started to spend more and more time with Taehyung and that also meant you spent more and more time at the beta tau sigma house until everybody there practically knew you.

After a few weeks, Taehyung asked you to be his girlfriend. For once, you thought everything was perfect. Every girl in your college would die to be in your place and Taehyung was the sweetest thing ever.

Or that's what you thought.

After half a year of dating, you found out that Taehyung had been cheating on you all along. He never actually stopped seeing other girls while he was with you. He treated you as a joke.

Heck, Taehyung never even bothered to say sorry or anything when you finally told him that you wanted to end the relationship. He didn't even bother.

From then onwards, you never really go out anymore. You stopped going to parties, you stopped hanging out with the popular kids and you never really tried dating again. All you did was focus on your studies and luckily Nancy was always there for you during the heartbreak fest.

Not gonna lie, it hurt like a bitch. But you moved on eventually. Of course it wasn't easy because you see him everyday at campus, but you forced yourself to be strong no matter how much it hurt.

But deep down, you really do still care about him. He was after all, your first. Your first boyfriend, the person to take your virginity, your first love.

"I'm sorry you had to through all that because of Taehyung. That prick is gonna get it, I swear."

Jungkook rubbed your back comfortingly. You smiled sweetly at him, appreciating his effort.

"Don't bother, Jungkook. I'm a fucking diamond, a mere fuckboy couldn't break me." You said playfully, balling your fists to prove your strength.

#smut #jungkooksmut #jungkook #btssmut #namjoon #btsscenarios #bts #jimin #jin #suga #yoongi #taehyungsmut #collegeau #fratboyjungkook #fratboyau #btsfanfic

[lickmeleclerc]

|Falling Short| H.H {Chapter 3}

Characters :Highschool!Harry Holland x Y/n (female reader)

Summary: Y/n & Harry were inseparable hence the verb were. Near the end of 8th year they started to drift apart, Now Senior year of high school they’ve completely been out of each other’s lives for three years. This is a normal occurrence with friendships but not so much for two people who have been best friends since the age of two and happen to live next door to each other. What event can reunite them?

Playlist: Here

Warnings: cussing probably, nothing yet

Y/n’s manicured thumb lingers over the send button on the screen of the small device i her hands, but she can’t bring herself to push it. Her eyes scanned the text again;

‘Hey Harry, I’m sorry for storming out on you today. It’s a touchy subject for me...to talk about Kyle. Him and I don’t really connect anymore. I just wanted to say I’m sorry again. I hope you can understand. See you tomorrow, bye.’

“Ugh!” She exasperates before pushing the lock button and discarding the device it to her side. A simple text to Harry shouldn’t be so hard to send, she’s always texted him. With an adjustment of her hair tie and moving to sit criss cross on her bed she sighs and grabs her phone.

“One...two...three!” She closes her eyes and sends the message. The whoop noise notifies her that it's been sent, a small sigh leaves her lips as she opens her eyes again. A small time appears underneath her message, he’s read it. But no dots appear so she closes her phone and rolls over in her bed to try and sleep.

~

Harry yawns and looks at the two cups of coffee sat before him on his desk, one for himself and one for Y/n. She wasn’t in class yet and he definitely acknowledges how awkward he must look. A glance at the clock above the door shows there’s only two minutes left of passing period. Before he turns away though he spots Y/n but she’s not alone. Kyle roughly grabs her forearm and jerks her toward him, he harbors an angry expression and a vein is protruding in his neck and pulsing. The girls face is shocked and an angry expression is on her features as well. Her hair is pulled half up in a small bun, showing her face and the sundress she’s wearing clings to her body in the right spots but also has a nice flow above her knees. She’s dressed how Harry would have expected her to dress yesterday. Her love for fashion has worn off somewhat into Harry’s decision making and he hopes she’ll notice. His maroon cardigan over a black Tee are two colors he likes together and his favorite pair of black denim jeans matched. He was proud of it today and he needed to be.

Y/n turns away from her boyfriends and tries to reset her emotions before crossing the threshold into her English class. She spots Harry and eyes the items on his desk and can’t help but let a smile start to form in the corner of her mouth.

“Hey.” She says as she slides into her desk, Harry turns and smiles at her and she doesn’t feel awkwardness in the air between them anymore.

“I’m sorry.” The two both saying in unison as they look at each other, laughs follow in suit and Harry finds himself looking down, he sees her arm still red and looking like it will bruise. He feels more anger build up toward Kyle but his focus is on Y/n right now. He makes a mental note to talk to his old buddy later.

“Here.” He says as he hands her one of the coffees, it’s still warm to the touch and the excitement on Y/n’s glossed lips and her makeup enhanced eyes makes Harry’s day. Her love for coffee was never too over the top but he knew it was one way to her heart and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want that.  “Vanilla latte with almond milk.” He recites her order and she smiles more as she takes a sip.

“Ahh. The best, thank you Harry.” The girl appreciates before the bell rings. Mrs. Hall stands from her desk and calls the two forward. Y/n and Harry share a look of inquiry and walk up to the desk.

“I have zero tolerance for drinks in my class, detention after school today.” Her stern voice explains as two pink slips are in her boney hand. The two nod and take them walking back to their seats. A snort is heard behind Y/n’s shielded face from her hair and Harry results to biting his thumb to hide his giggles. Something about the two always ending up in trouble together wasn’t a surprise. When the two diviants were both 16, before the accident, Harry and Y/n snuck out to a party and came home to discover both their parents in Harry’s room arms crossed and disappointed looks plastered on their mothers faces, and looks of sleepiness on their fathers. It wasn’t a highlight of their childhood but definitely a memory to tell in the future.

“Watch out Y/n Mrs. Hell is out to get us.” Harry whispers to in her ear still sporting a bright smile. The very fitting new nick name Harry has deemed the teacher earns more laughter from his desk partner.

“Lets hope she doesn’t hold a grudge we need a good grade.” She adds opening her notebook. A small square note is falls to the floor like a feather in the wind. Harry’s eyes land on it first and he quickly realizes its a prescription but before he can read the stringy cursive of the doctors writing she’s scooped it up and tucked it away in her bag. He wants to ask questions and get answered but he decides against it and looks ahead as Mrs. Hall begins a new lesson.

Y/n after tucking the note away hopes Harry won’t ask questions as long as she doesn’t make eye contact with him, it’s not something she’s ready to speak aloud, or else it will be real and she’s not ready to face that. As long as it's not really ‘real’ yet the roller coaster that life is for Y/n is still on the pull upward but as soon as the truth leaves her lips it’ll be the pivotal downward spiral, the kind of straight drop on the similar coaster that makes ones stomach flip. So, for now, Y/n will continue on the easy route as the nerves build along with the rising of the coaster. Even if it means hiding a secret from her newly rekindled best friend. She feels his eyes on her though and can imagine his worried expression on his face, his curly hair flopped over and eyebrows furrowed while his bottom lip is pulled between his teeth. If she looks at him she knows she’ll cave.

“Talk to me if you need to okay Y/n.” He reassures and goes back to listening to the lesson. Hot tears brim her eyes as she crosses her arms over her chest and looks down at her notes, thankful that she has hair long enough to hide her face from Harry. A few deep breaths later she’s calmed herself down as she focuses on soccer tryouts after school. With a deep breath she faces Harry before the bell rings.

“Hey, would you want to, um possibly come to my soccer tryouts after school? Cause then we could work on our project?” She asked nervously as she fiddled with her hands. A large smile is now on the boys face at her offer. He’s nodding before he can even reply.

“Yeah! I can take pictures too for the yearbook and maybe we can get some food afterward.” He adds and she instantly knows where they’ll be going. A small kind of run down place in the middle of the city’s downtown area. It serves burgers the size of their hands and the amount of fires cover the bottom of the plates. The sitting area is small because the old husband and wife owner’s like people to sit at the counter. They really care about their customers even if the place looks like its about to be closed down anyday by a health inspector and desperately needs a makeover. It has character and the two have been going since they were little and Y/n’s grandpa was in town.

“I’ll see you in theater and then after school.” She confirms and exits as she throws her bag over her shoulder and walks to her next class as she tries to avoid Kyle in the hall.

“Hey you!” A high pitched voice calls that causes Harry’s ears to perk up as he feels arms wrap around his waist. His hands move on top of hers as he turns around.

“Oh hey Y/n-Julie hey.” He chimes through a shocked a expression but quickly tries to mask it and the fact he called her Y/n. He actions from being all love like quickly changes as an angry expression forms on her face.

“What did you just call me?” She questions. Harry knows he’s messed up big time but he can’t dig himself out of this hole.

“I’m sorry I was just talking to her in class and I just got it confused, I’m sorry babe.” His words are sincere but he can’t deny the actions she’d done he did want it to be Y/n.

“Well it better be just an accident because she better not be stealing my boy.” She laughs her actions changing immediately.causing Harry to emit an awkward laugh.

“Course not babe.” He answers pulling the short girl to his chest for a hug. He may want Y/n and him to be more than friends but he feels something when he looks at Julie and he doesn’t ruin that for something that’ll never happen with Y/n.

The day goes by slow for the two and Y/n feels the nerves in the pit of her stomach build with every minute, not only over the moment in first period but for the tryouts. She’s practiced all summer besides the trip she took with Kyle and she’s counting in a scholarship next year. As theater rolls around though she tries to push it all aside and have some fun.

“Class today we’re picking out monologues! They can either be modern or in old english. Feel free to work in groups and you must check it with me first.” The teacher explains briefly before walking into her office after adjusting her thick framed glasses that didn’t seem to match the boho outfit she had on. Harry spots Y/n sitting over on the steps on the large stage and heads over to her ipad in hand.

“Is this seat taken?” He asks as she looks up while brushing stray hairs behind her ear.

“By you.” She speaks softly not wanting to draw attention to the two in the quite work setting. He returns her smile and sits down there legs slightly touching now. “You’re so warm.” she laughs as she feels his body heat through her thin dress. Before responding he looks quizzically at her, it’s quite hot out today and the audition feels suffocating to him, maybe it's the mop of curly hair on his head or the layers he has on but either way he can’t believe she’s cold.

“Well here.” He offers as he shrugs off the cardigan and draps it over her shoulder before she can refuse. A light blush dusts her cheeks at his gesture as she slips her arms into the sleeves instantly being greeted with warmth. Before they speak again Harry admires how she looks in his clothes, the sleeves hang over her hands and it definitely looks oversized, she couldn’t look any more adorable.

“Okay you have to let me take a photo.” He demands while pulling his phone from his pocket and opening the camera.

“What no way! Harry no.” She laughs hiding her face the sweater paws. He pauses a silent laugh leaving his lips as he holds the camera up waiting for her to peak out. Right when she does he takes the photo.

“Ha! Got it!” He expresses as he clicks to enlarge it. Its blurry around the edges from her movement but her cheeks are covered from the sweater paws but you can tell she’s smiling brightly. Her alluring eyes are peaking out and they look full of happiness, and no Harry is positive she definitely could not be any more beautiful.

“You’re beautiful Y/n.” He speaks with no laughter or joking like tone to his voice. She pulls her hands away from her face and her smile falls but a very prominent blush resides on her cheeks from his comment.

“Thank you.” She finally manages to say. Never one to take compliments but the way Harry said it made it a true compliment. It wasn’t a lie or him just being nice and when she’s with him she does feel beautiful. He looks up from staring at the photo and give her one of his signature smiles that's so contagious she smiles back.

“C’mon let's pick out our monologues.” She changes the subject and bumps his side with hers as they share a ipad screen, Y/n even ends up leaning her head in his shoulder and he wants nothing more than to wrap an arm around her back but that’d be too far. He pushes the thoughts away and looks seriously to fulfil his current assignment. The two still joke around trying to pick out the funniest monologues for eachother but in the end before class is over find serious ones they both like.

“Ready for tryouts?” He questions as the two slowly walk down the hall headed toward the field, Y/n still has the cardigan slung over her arms and the boy feels proud she’s walking around wearing his clothes.

“Yeah! I’m trying not to be nervous. I’ll see you on the field?” She confirms and breaks away from his side to head to the locker room. He only nods and pushes out the metal doors and heads to the bleacher on the field.

“So when did you and Kyle break up?” A girls voice rings through the stingey room as Y/n slides her shorts on.

“What? We didn’t break up.” She laughs dryly as she spins around to face another girl in a soccer uniform.

“Hm. You just seem pretty comfy with that yearbook guys guess i was just confused.” She ends the conversation with a flip of her ponytail and walks away. As Y/n puts her jersey on she rolls her eyes not buying the fake confusion the other girl used as an excuse. But in her mind she wishes she was broken up with Kyle. A she pulls her hair up into a tight ponytail her she feels some pain just under her ribs from the stretch but brushes it away as nerves as she exits the locker room.

Y/n spots Harry and she feels the nervous tension in her body fade away as he gives her a thumbs up and an encouraging smile. She not only wants to impress the judges but him too. After taking roll and showing of their individual skills they start a schrimage. Harry who's been snapping photos the whole time mostly of number 17, Y/n, is now trying to get shots of all the players. He enjoys taking action shots, taking a still of a moving object or person can turn out interesting looking and he likes the challenge of having to snap the photo at the right time.  A whistle blows as someone makes a goals and the coach calls everyone up, thanking them for their time today. Y/n jogs over to Harry as she catches her breath he high fives her.

“You were amazing as always but I will say you’ve gotten much better since fourth grade.” He jokes as they begin to walk toward the front parking lot. She laughs her cheeks flushed from all the running.

“Thanks.” She smiles proudly glad she impressed him.

“Where’d you park?” He asks as they stop on the sidewalk and he looks around for her car.

“I didn’t.” She laughs and he catches on she carpooled with Kyle today. He’s not in the mood to talk about him so he changes the subject.

“Okay well then right this way, you chariot awaits.” He calls as he heads toward his parked car and open the door for her.

“Why thank you good sir.” She laughs as she slides into the passenger seat. Again she feels a slight pain under ribs again

Taglist (Ask to be added here)  @spideynora @spideymood @painted-soulss @tomsfireheart @rosemiltionundercover @smexylemony @parkerstan  @living-dead-parker @typicaltrashbagg @painted-soulss @redhoodparker @spiderman-n @damnhisfaceislikethenightsky  @fuckyou-imspiderman @ive-got-some-lies-to-tell @beautiful-holland @lovelyh0lland @cherryhollands @quitetommy @futureparker @thesciencebabe

#harry holland #harry hollanf fan fic #harry holland imagines #harry holland imagine #harry holland x reader #harry holland x you #harry holland x y/n #harry holland blurb #harry holland blurbs #harry holland fan fic #harry holland au #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland imagines #tom holland au #tom holland blurb #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fan fic #sam holland #sam holland imagines #sam holland blurb #fan fic

[youngavengersfeels]

Local Raccoon Man's Struggle To Act Like A Normal Person

Pairing: Stucky

Word Count: 10,172

Summary: Bucky knows he’s a hot mess and he's accepted it. He doesn't need any asshole cat or judging hipster to remind him of that.

Read on AO3

All Bucky wanted was to crawl into bed and sleep until the end of the world, but was realistic enough know at best he was only going to get maybe four hours of sleep before needing to get up for his morning class. The first thing he did after closing the door of his apartment was strip off his way too tight skinny jeans. He literally couldn't breath in those pants but whenever he wore them he got more tips at the bar he worked at  and he needed the money. He put on his ratty sweatpants that honestly should have been thrown away a couple holes ago but they were too comfortable to give up. He threw on his NYU hoodie that he had felt compelled to buy after enrolling in the university even though it pretty much cost more than his food budget.

He threw his phone on the couch and went to the bathroom to grab a makeup wipe because he maybe dead tired and given up on life but he wasn't going to let his skin suffer for it. He had just started rubbing the eyeliner off when he noticed movement from the corner of his eye. Whirling around Bucky almost fell over. He curse internally, he had been in the army for six years, he should be able to handle a home intruder better than this.

Turned out his home intruder was just a cat. A cat that was not Bucky’s and that he had no idea how it got in since his windows were painted shut. The cat looked healthy and clean, like it was a house cat. The apartment complex allowed pets so mostly likely it was one of his neighbor’s cat. He walked over to the door opening it to see if anyone was out there looking for a cat, but the hallway was dead quiet which made sense at 3am. Turning back into his apartment Bucky strolled over to cat who is lounging on his couch like it owned the place.

“Hey buddy,” Bucky says reaching a hand out to let the cat sniff. “Where are you supposed to be?” He asked before the cat bit his hand hard making him regret going for the pet, but could resist the cat was so fluffy. He tried reaching out his left hand to let the cat get used to him but that only seems to make it worse. The cat hissed and backed away from Bucky.

“Ok, so no touching. I feel you there, I haven't really been ok with that whole human contact thing for a while now too,” Bucky said moving to sit on the couch. He wasn't sure him trying to have a conversation with a cat was a testament to how tired he was or how few human relationships he had at this point.

With the strength and agility that Bucky didn't know cats could possess, the cat grabbed his phone in its mouth and bolted out of his apartment. He cursed himself for not making sure his door had properly closed as he proceeded to chase said cat down the hallway. Because the universe was against him, someone had left the stairwell door ajar and the cat was much faster at taking the stairs than Bucky. He really needed to work on his cardio.

The cat managed to make it to the door right as someone entered, Bucky nearly knocking the person over in his haste to catch the cat.  Bucky was seriously wondering if someone trained this cat to steal people’s phones in some sort of bizarre organized cat crime ring. Either way he had the cat cornered in the alley beside the apartment building.

“Hey! Leave that cat alone!” Someone yelled distracting Bucky. He turned to see this impossibly small guy running toward him with a face twisted in anger.

“He’s got my phone!” Bucky yelled back. The guy stopped, looking a little confused, which was fair because why would a cat even need a phone? Who did it have to call?

“What?’ he asked in a voice too deep for his body, that totally did not affect Bucky at all.

“That asshole comes into my home uninvited, bites me and steals my phone. See if I ever show a cat hospitality again,” Bucky rants aware that he sounds crazy. The guy looks between Bucky and the cat who was licking itself and then back at Bucky. He looked even more confused now and his anger seemed to dissipate with the confusion. He looked a lot smaller without the anger propping him up.

“Well that still isn’t a reason to abuse an animal,” the man said in a self righteous voice that made Bucky roll his eyes. He wasn’t really going to hurt the cat, just scare it off, which the cat totally deserved.

“You got a better way, be my guest pal,” Bucky said gesturing to for the man to have at it. The man rummaged through the bag he was holding that Bucky hadn’t noticed and pulled out a take out container. He grabbed a plastic fork and skewered a piece of chicken. He squatted down close to the cat, but far enough away not to get swatted by an errant paw.

While the blond tried to lure the cat away with a piece of chicken Bucky couldn’t help but admire the way the man’s pants clung to his ass. The cat stoped licking its ass and regarded the man waving food at it with disinterest but seemed intrigued by the actual food. It nabbed the piece of chicken and chewed in it, then moved to rub against the man’s legs purring loudly.

The man grabbed Bucky’s phone and scratched the cat’s head like that cat wasn't a manipulative piece of shit. He handed over Bucky’s phone giving him a weird look. Bucky knew this whole situation was ridiculous, he knew he looked like a crazy raccoon man compared to this gorgeous hipster. This is what his life had come to, him in an alley ready to fight a cat. If he was being honest with himself, which he rarely was, he probably would lose said fight with the cat. Still he didn't like the idea of the hipster judging him, he could judge himself enough for the both of them.

“Of fucking course that asshole cracked the screen. I'm going to kill that cat.” Bucky mumbled flipping over his phone. It was a old crappy one that he had been meaning to upgrade but hadn't wanted to undergo the stress of the store to actually get a new one. Natasha would say that cat had done him a favor by cracking the screen because it would force him to get a new one. Bucky knew what was actually going to have was, he was going to live with that cracked screen because a cracked screen was better than having to deal with figuring out how to buy a new phone.

The man stepped forward, blocking Bucky’s view of the cat. He looked ready to fight Bucky just as much as when he had first ran yelling into the ally, even though Bucky was like double his size. He couldn't help but admire the guy for his guts. Now that he wasn’t locked in battle with a cat he actually looked at the cat whisperer. The dude looked like he was in high school, but dressed like the hipsters Bucky saw hanging around campus. He was wearing a button up shirt tucked into khakis under an open cardigan. Bucky could see blond hair poking out from under a beanie. The man had on huge thick rimmed glasses. Altogether it could look really nerdy but the man seemed too ready to fight him to pull of the nerd vibe. He just looked like one of those little dogs women carried in their purses that were ready to throw down any minute of the day.  

The man looked undeniably good though. It made Bucky even more aware of how trashy he looked in his sweatpants that had enough holes in them to make Bucky nervous about being charged with public indecency. He also had been half way through taking his makeup off leaving dark circles around his eyes. He looked like a human disaster. It didn’t really matter because Bucky was too embarrassed about needing some hipster twink to save his phone from a cat for him, to hit on the guy no matter how hot he was.

“Thanks for your help,” Bucky mumbled before making the quickest retreat of his life. When he got back to his apartment he made sure the door closed properly to prevent any other asshole cats from wandering in.

Bucky wasn’t sure why Clint and Natasha insisted on coming to his apartment to hang out. They claimed it was just convenient but neither of them lived anywhere close to him. Also their apartments were much nicer than his. Even Clint’s which was saying a lot because Clint was such a human disaster, it made Bucky feel good about himself in comparison. Bucky was pretty sure they subjected themselves to the long trek and shitty apartment because they knew if it was up to him to go see them, they would never see him again.

It wasn't that he didn't want to be around his friends, it was just harder than it used to be. During high school Bucky hated being alone. He was constantly surrounded by people and practically fed off the energy. After getting back from two tours in the army Bucky found it almost draining to be around people, even his friends and family. When he had been living with his parents, trying to figure out where his life was going, it had been so stressful. He found that family dinners would rob him of his stamina and ended up with him hiding in his room all day just to prepare himself for them. His parents’ had freaked out over his personality change, but tried to be supportive and said he would get better as long as he kept going to therapy and taking his medication.

Bucky didn't think it worked like though. He didn't think just because he was taking medication all of a sudden he was going to enjoy parties again. It had upset him at first that his personality had seemed to change so drastically after leaving the army but now he didn't mind so much. His therapist had assured him that it was normal for people to change as they grew up and experienced new things and the army had been one hell of an experience.

Bucky had jumps at the chance to move out on his own when he decided to go back to school. His relationship had been strained with his parents during his transition home. They had fought more than they had at the height of his rebellious teenage phase. Now that he was out of the house he couldn't help but see his relationship with his parents improve.

The unintentional side effect was that living on his own made it so much easier to isolate himself from his support network. Without his parents just down the hall there was no one there to silently judge him into functioning like a normal human being. Sometimes he just didn't have the energy to do anything so he would just sit in bed not realizing hours had passed while he fell in and out of sleep.

He wasn't sure how he ended up with friends like Nat and Clint. We Bucky had started to pull away from him they started putting more effort into seeking him out. They didn't mind when it took him hours to muster the energy to text them back let alone hang out with them. They would send him texts warning him they were coming over with enough time for him to back out if he really couldn't handle them that day but close enough that he wouldn't have to stress about them coming over for too long.

He loved his friends and didn't know what he did to deserve them. Although now they were both sitting on his couch laughing at him for letting a cat get the best of him, he was not so impressed. He should have known better to tell them but even he could admit it was kind of a funny story.

“It’s not that funny guys, come on,” Bucky grumbled.

“It kind of is bro,” Clint said with a grin Bucky wouldn’t mind wiping off his face.

“I for one am proud of Bucky for interacting with another human being without getting punched, even if it was a close call,” Natasha said like it was some big accomplishment. Which to be fair it kind of was now a days. Whenever they went out together it always ended up with Bucky either having a panic attack or with Bucky starting a fight. It was honestly safer for everyone to just hang out at his apartment.

“Hardy har, I hope you guess are having the time of your lives making fun of me,” Bucky whinned.

“Don’t worry we are,” Natasha said with a grin. Bucky kicked her good naturedly only to have her push him off the couch entirely. “But really, Bucky. Hearing you talk about how much you hate that cat is the most passionate we’ve heard you in awhile,” Natasha pointed out. Bucky wanted to protest but knew she was right.

“Don’t forget about the hipster!” Clint interjected making Bucky groan. “You said ‘he came running down the alley looking like a righteous ball of fury with an ass that just won’t quite’,” Clint said giggling his ass off. Bucky groaned again. He did say that and regretted it even though it was true.

“I have eyes guys. It’s my right as an American to appreciate when someone is aesthetically pleasing,” Bucky argued. Natasha rolled her eyes at him. Bucky was pretty sure with the amount she rolled her eyes at him and Clint someday they were going to get stuck.

“This is the most interest you’ve shown in a person since you got back. Maybe this is a sign that you’re ready to put yourself out there and start dating again,” Natasha offered in a much more serious voice. Bucky instantly felt his anxiety starting to act up. Even the idea of trying to find someone to date was too much for Bucky right now. He felt drained after a couple hours with Natasha and Clint who were his best friends there was no way Bucky was going to be able handle getting to know someone well enough to date them.

“I just thought he was hot Nat, it’s not that deep,” Bucky said hoping his voice did portray how anxious he was.

“Well you never know, now you promised up beer and board games and I for one am ready to kick both your asses at monopoly,” Natasha said rubbing her hands together. Clint shared a look of terror with Bucky. Natasha was downright terrifying when she got competitive.

Whoever came up with the idea of group projects is probably laughing at Bucky from the spot in hell specially reserved for them. Bucky hated group projects. In high school he had loved working in groups because he could just talk to his friends and somehow the work still got done. Now Bucky wanted to go back in time and punch his younger self. He was the person everyone hated in group projects and prayed they didn't get partnered up with. Now that he was on the other end of the spectrum, the one actually doing most of the work he resented his former self. It also didn't help that he was the oldest one in his group by a good six years so they just assumed he knew more then them.

He had just spent the last four hours in the library trying to corral a group of freshmen into actually doing their work. He was ready to either kill someone or sleep for the rest of the weekend. Neither of which were a viable option so Bucky was going to have to settle with watching cartoons on Netflix and eating more microwaveable food than his mother was comfortable with him eating. Just a classic Tuesday night now a days.

He was struggling to get his key out of his pocket when he heard a little meow. He looked down and saw that damn cat hanging out a couple doors away from him.

“You better stay over there if you know what's good for you,” Bucky warned. “There aren't any hot hipsters to save you this time.”

Apparently he wasn't competent enough to talk and find his key because he ended up spilling his backpack all over the hallway. Luckily it was only the cat that saw, so to least he didn’t have to worry about being embarrassed, not that he really cared what his neighbors thought about him. He had heard way too much of Ms. Jenkins's personal calls through paper thin walls to worry about her sharp gaze anymore.

He was too busy scooping everything back into his backpack to notice the cat creeping up on him until the fur ball dart across his pile of stuff on the floor, snatching his apartment key. Bucky was starting to sense a theme with this cat. For some reason the cat had decided to steal his stuff at the most inconvenient times.

“Don’t you dare eat that!” Bucky hissed at the cat. Lucky the cat listened to him and did not swallow the key, but instead dropped it. The cat had stopped a couple doors down from Bucky’s apartment, he wondered if that was the cat’s owner’s apartment and if so if it would be appropriate neighbor behavior for him to complain to the owner about their thieving cat.

“I’m just gonna come over there and get my key now,” Bucky said shuffling on the floor toward the cat who looked at him unimpressed. “It would be super nice if you didn’t bite me.” Bucky watched in horror as the cat stared him in the eye as it batted the key under the door of the apartment. “You’re an asshole you know that?” Bucky spat at the cat tempted to give the cat a little kick when he stood up. He didn’t because he did have morals and just because he was mad at the cat didn’t mean it deserved to be kicked. But oh was he tempted.

Bucky prayed the apartment owner was home because he did not want to have to call Natasha who had his only spare apartment key. He knocked on the door shooting the cat a glare. He can hear shuffling coming from inside the apartment which means at least he wasn’t going to have to call Natasha. As long as he kept his mouth shut no one would ever need to know about this; just him, the cat, and whoever lived in this apartment. The door swung open revealing a familiar blond hipster.  

“Ummm” Bucky said staring down at the man completely forgetting why he he had knocked on the door in the first place. They stood there for a few moments in silence awkwardly, Bucky’s face burning with embarrassment. He use to be smooth now he couldn’t even talk to his neighbor.

“Did you need something?” The blond asked eyebrow quirked.

“The cat kicked my key into your apartment,” Bucky blurted out. The guy looked confused stepping back and looking down at the floor. Sure enough Bucky’s key was lying by the guy’s feet. He bent down and picked it up, flipping it around his fingers in a way that said he wasn’t really conscious of doing it. He handed it over to Bucky with an amused look on his face. They stood there looking at each other again without saying anything.

“Um, thanks,” Bucky said making a tactical retreat.

“You got to stop doing this shit,” Bucky said in a warning voice at the cat who probably would have rolled their eyes if cats did that sort of thing. “You need to stop embarrassing me in front of pretty boys. I can do that myself,” Bucky said unlocking his door. He was careful to close the door before the cat could follow him in because he was not going to encourage that kind of behavior.

It would be his luck that the cat whisperer lived not only in his apartment building, but just down the hall. Life truly was unfair sometimes. All Bucky wanted to do was earn his engineering degree and mind his own business. He was a good person, alright. He helped old ladies in his building carry their shopping bags up the stairs because their elector was broken again. He had pulled a kid out of the road before he could get hit by a car the other week. The point is Bucky was a good person and his karma should reflect that. He didn't deserve to be tormented by a cat and have attractive hipsters judging him. Although he guessed judging people was a main draw of becoming a hipster. Now he was going to have worry about those too blue eyes judging him anytime he left the apartment.

Bucky did find himself putting a little more thought into his appearance for the next couple weeks. He wasn't really sure why he was trying so hard for a neighbor he didn't really know, and didn't really plan on getting to know better. Before his tours, he had cared a lot about his appearance. He had been voted best looking, best hair, and most likely to become a model in high school. Bucky's knew he wasn't an unattractive guy, but nowadays he seemed to do his damn best to hide it. He had shrugged it off when Natasha had pointed that out to him, but now he was acutely aware that everything in his closet was in shades of black and on the shabby side. At least all of the clothes he wore to the bar were tight and showed off his well toned body.

All his effort seems to go to waste though because every time Bucky found his eyes wandering toward the man’s apartment the door was shut. It felt kind of weird that Bucky knew where the guy lived but not his name. Especially since Bucky had a crush. He wasn’t so proud that he couldn’t admit he had a small crush on the guy. He wasn’t going to pursue it because the guy had a knack of only showing up when Bucky was doing something embarrassing and looked like absolute trash.

No, it was better to just admire from afar. Bucky was much less likely to do something so embarrassing he would have to move that way. If his mind started to wander and focus on a certain slight blond, that was fine.

Bucky has running on fumes and it was only the first day of finals. It was his first semester of college so he was only taking general requirement classes that didn't really matter in the long run, but Bucky had his pride and wanted to prove he could do well. He probably shouldn't be making his gpa a representation of his personal health and worth, but what his therapist didn't know wouldn't hurt him, right?

His first final was at 6am because the university wanted them all to freeze to death on the commute to campus. He didn't really understand why his 9am class needed to have its final 3 hours before the normal class period but what did he know. Normally the campus Starbucks didn't open until 7am but in the infinite wisdom of capitalism they were opening two hours early for the week of finals. There wasn't too long of a line when Bucky stumbled in. He had seen the line wrap around the building in the height of midterms so Bucky counted the line only going to the door as a small victory. He had his humanities final in about an hour and if he was going to stay awake enough to write the essay portion he needed some sugary coffee.

Bucky was all about efficiency, so while he waited in line he had his flash cards out going through terms and names he knew he was going to forget right after the semester ended. It wasn’t that he didn’t care about the subject, but Bucky wasn’t the kind of person who remembered names and dates. He understood the concepts and could apply them, but he couldn’t tell you who came up with them and when.  

“I think it's your turn,” a familiar voice said breaking Bucky’s concentration. He looked up and realized it was in fact his turn to order and then behind and saw a pair of blue eyes that were becoming more and more familiar.

Bucky couldn't help but blush as he scurried to place his order. Most of the tables and couches were already occupied by students who looked dead to the world, but Bucky managed to find one pressed up against the glass window. He had about half an hour before he needed to get to his final so Bucky pulled out his notes again for some good old fashion cramming. He didn't remember having to try this hard in high school, but then again he hadn't gone through a serious head trauma that left him with memory issues in high school. Growing up kind of sucked like that sometimes.

“Hey! Is this seat taken?” That deep voice asked making Bucky’s head spring up so fast he probably got whiplash. The blond was standing behind the chair across from Bucky giving him a soft smile. You would think that the blond hadn't seen him being targeted by a cat, by the way the blond was looking at him. Bucky shrugged and the man smiled, sliding the chair out to sit. Bucky noted that the Starbucks was busy, but there were other chairs and tables the man could have sat at.

They sit in silence waiting for their coffees. Bucky tried to concentrate on studying his notes, not the incredibly attractive man he had no chance with because the man had already seen him acting as crazy as he felt.

“How’s your cat doing?” The man asked breaking the silence. Bucky stared at him in confusion for a moment. Did he really think Bucky would keep that monster as a pet? Sure, he had started putting out food and water dishes for the cat, but he wasn’t cruel, he didn’t want the cat to starve. He must have a look of pure horror on his face because the man visibly wilted. He was saved from answer by the barista who started calling out orders.

Bucky grabbed his embarrassingly sugary drink and scurried back to the table, maybe small, blond, and angry was just getting his drink to go, but of course Bucky wasn’t that lucky. The blond scoots back into his chair, making an obscene nose that does not go straight to Bucky’s dick as he sips his coffee.

“I'm Steve by the way,” the man said. It was actually nice to get a name to put to the face instead of thinking of him as stupid things like the cat whisperer.

“Bucky,” he grunted in reply because that was the normal thing to do not just openly stare.

“What are you studying?” Steve asked head nodding toward the flashcards laid out on the table which Bucky had completely forgotten about which is bad for his gpa but Bucky thinks is perfectly reasonable because this is the first time he’s gotten to talk to Steve without that damn cat there to make him look bad. He can make himself look bad without any outside help, thank you very much.

He kind of wished he had remembered to shower the last couple days, but it was finals. Bucky thought he should get a little credit for even remembering to put on a clean pair of jeans. He was wearing his NYU hoodie under a oversized ratty jacket he had gotten at Goodwill. It might make him look homeless but it was hella warm. So he was sitting there sporting the greasy, homeless college student look while Steve sat across from him looking like he walked out of an indie music video. He looked so put together in his north face coat over top a flannel. He even had a scarf that matched his beanie.

Bucky wondered if being able to assemble a real outfit during finals was a precursor to being considered a real adult. If it was part of the criteria then Bucky was screwed because his personal style was what he liked to call hobo chic. Natasha said adding the word chic at the end didn't actually make his apathy about his clothes cute, it was just sad. Natasha was like a real, real adult with a full time job and a beautiful apartment so Bucky normally deferred to her opinion. But if she thought he was going to get rid of his hobo jacket she could pry it from his cold dead hands.

Bucky wanted to run into Steve just once when the blond looked like a slob and Bucky looked like a real person. That would mean Bucky actually taking care of himself which wasn't going to happen so it was only a pipe dream.

“Intro to Humanities.” Bucky said.

“I took that when I was an undergrad. I thought it would be a fun elective but all it really did was make me question my faith in humanity,” Steve said with a sympathetic tone. So Steve was probably a grad student then. Bucky had assumed Steve was a freshman like him based on his size.

“It's not as bad as Intro to Women’s study. That's where you really learn to hate your classmates,” Bucky said. Steve actually laughed at that nodding in agreement.

“That class was almost torture which is a shame because the topic is really interesting and should be taught, but there are always those people who refuse to be taught and assume their life experiences supersedes all of history in terms of racism and sexism,” Steve said.

“On the first day of class this dude just starts ranting about how feminism is the real oppressor and the fact that he’s require to take this class shows how political correctness has ruined academics. Then when he’s done and the whole class is staring at him in abject horror, he has the full to turn to me the only other guy in the class and say ‘this guy knows what I'm talking about,’” Bucky recounted. Steve was gaping at him in horror. Bucky had told the story to his parents over the phone while he had been loafing around his apartment, but they didn't seem to appreciate how horrible his classmates were like Steve did. Bucky shouldn't be surprised that someone who dressed like Steve would be on the same page as him on this.

“What did you do?” Steve asked attentively.

“I told him to fuck off if he thought I wanted any part of the shit he was trying to sell. I advised him to either get his head out of his ass and actually listen to the women in the class telling him he’s wrong or transfer out,” Bucky said. Steve nodded like Bucky had answered some unsaid question correctly.

“There was a guy in my class who felt the need to assure the class that HE wasn't the kind of guy in all the stories the women in the class told,” Steve said rolling his eyes.

“He was probably only there to try and hook up with them,” Bucky said knowing way too many dudes like that in his Humanities class.

“Well someone should have told him we all saw through his shit,” Steve said with a smile that Bucky couldn’t help but return. His phone starting buzzing. “That's my alarm telling me if I don't get a move on I will be late for my final. It was nice talking to you Bucky, I'll look out for you around the apartment,” Steve said before rushing out of the store.

Bucky stared after him before realizing that he just successfully managed to have a conversation with Steve. It wasn’t an accomplishment he should probably be proud of, people had conversations with really hot neighbors everyday, but ever since Bucky had gotten back Stateside he was been more withdrawn, only really talking to his family and Nat and Clint. So the fact that he been able to not only have a conversation with Steve, but enjoy it was a pretty big deal to him. It totally made up for the fact that he wasn’t able to concentrate on cramming  for the next hour. If he didn’t know it at this point that extra time wasn’t going to help anyway Bucky figured as he let his mind wonder back to the way Steve’s checks had been pink with cold even though the Starbucks was fairly warm.

He started noticing Steve around the building more often. He doesn't actually go talk to him because that would mean Bucky would have to act like a normal human being and he was quite there yet. He comes home once and Steve is just getting home but he’s with a very good looking black man. Another time Steve is just getting back as Bucky is leaving. Steve smiles and waves hello, and for a moment Bucky just stood there in the hallway not knowing what to do. Then awkwardly returned the wave before running away.

“You know this is your fault right?” Bucky said pointedly at the cat lounging on his couch. He still had no idea how the cat was getting into his apartment but he figured at this point he better just accept it and move on with his life. He still had a healthy fear of the cat though so he tended to avoid wherever the cat decided to perch. That’s why even though there was plenty of room on his couch, Bucky was on the floor eating pizza. Natasha would laugh at him for being afraid of a cat, but Bucky could be honest with himself.

“If it weren't for you I would be blissfully unaware of how hot my neighbor is,” Bucky complained. “I could live in blissful ignorance about how not only is Steve super hot in a twink sort of way, but he’s also really smart. Who told him he was allowed to do that?” Bucky said sullenly shoving food into his mouth. The cat just stretched out with a yawn by caring about bucky’s heartache; the heartless bastard.

Bucky was kind of embarrassed to admit he spent way too much time thinking his crush on Steve, but to be fair it was winter break so he didn't have much else to think about. It wasn't like his job at the bar required much thinking. He had picked up a seasonal job doing gift wrapping at a department store to earn a little extra cash. He had no idea how particular people were about their wrapping until he he been chewed out for 15 minutes by a soccer mom who claimed to be too busy for him to take his time making sure his gifts were wrapped properly. Bucky knew he wasn't meant to be working customer service jobs. He did not have the right attitude for it, but it paid the bills while he finished his degree. Still he couldn't wait to be done with his seasonal job. It was kind of weird to have to wonder which job the glitter clinging to his hair was from.

Every time Bucky had seen Steve he had looked so nice in outfits that had to have been prepalanned. The only pre-planning bucky put into his wardrobe was sniffing his shirts to find the freshes one. Steve probably didn't find himself covered in glitter very often. Although now that he thought about it, Bucky and noticed that while Steve seemed to take care in his outfits and hair, he was also normally a little messy in other ways. Bucky had seen him with paint on his nose more than once and his hands almost always looked like they were smeared with something black.

“Get it together Barnes, you've only had like one real conversation with the guy. This is starting to border on creepy,” Bucky said to himself. The cat meows as if he was agreeing with Bucky’s self deprecation. He glared at the cat for good measure. Bucky didn't think it was fair for the cat to judge him because clearly it had made some poor decision of it had to rely on him for food.

At least the conversation thing was something Bucky could work on. He knew where Steve lived and knew he went to NYU. It shouldn't be that hard to have a normal conversation Steve was always friendly when Bucky saw him. All he really had to do was walk up to the guy and start talking.

“Just commiserate about having to go back to school,” Bucky muttered to himself as he climbed the stairs toward his apartment. “Say something. Don't just stare at him like you're the heroine of some romance novel,” Bucky muttered glad there was no one else in the stairwell to hear him talking to himself. That's just what he needed.

He definitely didn’t look longingly at Steve’s door as he passed it. That would be pathic, which Bucky definitely was, but not for that.

“Hey! I'm glad I caught you,” Steve said just as Bucky was putting his key into the door. Bucky’s heart did that thing where it would beat way faster than was strictly necessary in Bucky’s opinion. “Your cat must have gotten locked amour because I found him pawing at the door morning something fierce. I didn't want someone to kick him out of the building so he’s chilling in my apartment,” Steve explained.

Bucky stared at Steve confused for a second. He had never really thought about the car getting locked out before. It was always just there when it wanted to be, normally when it wanted Bucky to feed it. Also that wasn't his cat. He was going to tell Steve as much, but the blond was already turning, gesturing for Bucky to follow him toward his apartment. There was no way Bucky was going to pass up the opportunity to get into Steve’s apartment even if it was because of that damn cat.

Steve’s apartment was a mess. It was by no means dirty, but every surface was cluttered with art supplies, books, and other random junk. It made Bucky irrationally pleased to see Steve with a less than perfect apartment. He probably should have guessed that Steve was an artist. Him always being covered in glitter and paint suddenly made sense. Bucky also felt like he understood the guy’s aethic a little better now.

“He’s around here somewhere,” Steve said with a sheepish look. Bucky was pretty sure Steve’s apartment was heaven for a cat. There were boxes everywhere and plenty of stuff to knock off of high places. It made Bucky wonder why the cat had decided to torment him instead of Steve. Which reminded him, that he should probably inform Steve that the cat he was looking for didn’t actually belong to Bucky.

Just them the little shit itself came running out of what probably was Steve’s bedroom. It looked like it was carrying a piece of paper with what looked like a drawing on it. Steve rushed to grab the paper, but the cat just dodged him making a beeline for Bucky. It dropped the paper in front of him and then retreated back to Steve who was glaring down at the cat like it had betrayed him, which knowing that cat it probably had.

“Looks like he found something he liked,” Bucky said picking up the paper flipping it over to see the drawing. Bucky was pretty sure his eyes were bugging out of his face as he looked down at what was clearly a picture of him. It was a drawing of him wearing his hobo jacket, eyeliner smudged like it normally got after a long shift at the bar. His shoulders were hunched with tiredness. It was a facking good drawing and Bucky had no idea Steve had been watching him.

He looked up to see Steve’s entire face and visible part of his neck bright red. He was glaring down at the cat like it had personally betrayed him. Bucky couldn’t help but laugh at the justice of it. Finally the cat’s asshole tendencies weren’t directed at him. Steve’s face snapped up at Bucky’s laugh, chin jutted out looking ready for a fight.

“Sorry, I’m not laughing at you, well I guess technically I am,” Bucky sad doing nothing to help the situation, but he couldn’t stop laughing.

“Thanks, that makes me feel a lot better,” Steve said sarcastically.

“No, really that cat is an asshole and I’m just glad someone else is finally at the tail end of it,” Bucky said finally gaining composure. “But this is really good Steve,” Bucky continued in a more serious tone. Steve fidgeted nervously, lifting a hand to pick at something on his sleeve.

Steve looked more nervous than any other time Bucky had ever seen him. He wondered if he was that obvious with his nervous. It made Bucky feel good to know that he wasn't the only one not totally ok. Although he wasn't really sure what Steve had to be nervous about. That drawing was ficking fantastic. It was an honor that Steve had even found him worthy enough to draw. Maybe he just had a weird fascination with his neighbor raccoon man.

Bucky wanted to ask him about it, but the words got stuck in his throat. He wasn’t sure what he could say that wouldn’t make it obvious the Bucky had a huge crush on the dude. Or maybe that was exactly what this situation needed.

“I have to say I’m honored that you would consider me worth drawing,” he said with a huff of a laugh.

“How could I not draw you, you're gorgeous,” Steve burst out and sequentially looked like he wanted to put his foot in his mouth. Bucky couldn’t help the wolfish grin that spread across his face. If it was even possible Steve’s face became even redder. Bucky didn’t agree with Steve’s assessment, not by a long shot, but he was so incredibly happy that Steve had even looked at him with some kind of interest.

“Yeah think so?” Bucky asked with an impish grin. His heart was pounding in his chest but it felt good to tease Steve playfully.

“Yeah. The first time I saw you in the alley you looked so good it was practically indecent” Steve said moving toward Bucky slowly.

“I’m pretty sure that was the condition of the sweetpants, not me,” Bucky said with a laugh. Steve shook his head.

“It’s all you Bucky. You make my hands itch to draw you,” Steve said coming so close he was practically chest to chest with Bucky.

This was it, Bucky thought, this was really happening. All he had to do was tilt his head down and he could kiss Steve who looked like he wanted it. He was about go in for the kiss when there was a sharp pain in his leg making him hiss and step back. He shook his leg to try and get that damn cat off of him.

“I don’t think your cat wants to share,” Steve laughed taking a step back. God, Bucky could listen to that laugh all day and not get tired of it. He had it bad. Bucky mourned the loss of the moment, but now that he knew Steve was interested he didn’t get discouraged. They stared at each other smiling like idiots for a couple seconds before Bucky decided he better go before he over stayed his welcome.

“Would you mind if I kept this?” Bucky asked lifting the drawing still clutched in his hand. Steve shrugged.

“Sure, I feel like that only fair since I didn’t exactly ask for consent before I drew it,” Steve asked suddenly looking nervous again, like he expected Bucky to get mad at him even though Bucky had thought he made it clear he was only flattered by Steve’s pen.

“Thanks, I better get going though, I’ll see you latter?” Bucky asked hoping he didn’t sound too desperate. Steve bit the his lower lip in a way that distracted Bucky, and nodded. Bucky beamed at the blond nodding back before turning to leave. The cat followed him out. Bucky was so happy that he was even considering willingly letting the cat at into his apartment for the night.

He was just opening his door when Steve came flying at him, surprising him. Steve was pressed in close to Bucky’s chest, pulling him down for a kiss. It took a moment for Bucky’s brain to catch up with what was happening, but when it did he returned the kiss with more gusto than finase. It wasn’t a particularly long or intense kiss but it was still the most amazing thing that had happened to Bucky recently.

When Steve pulled away he placed both his hands on Bucky’s chest and looked up at him coyly. “Come see me tomorrow?” He asked. Bucky could only nodded but Steve beamed at him before giving him one last peck on the lips and turning to go back to his apartment.

Bucky stood frozen in his doorway for a good five minutes after Steve left him. It wasn’t until a shrill, demanding meow penetrated his racing thoughts that Bucky snapped out of it and entered his apartment. He couldn’t keep the goofy grin off his face though. Steve liked him. Steve like him enough to draw him and kiss him. Bucky went to bed that night dreaming about hipsters and cats.

Bucky’s favorite thing to do was make out with Steve. It was only slightly spoiled by the demon cat who seemed to take personal offense when Steve’s attention was on Bucky and not it. Still even that damn cat could ruin how good it felt to his his lips on Steve’s, one hand tangled in blond hair the other clutching at Steve’s hip.

They had been dating for a few weeks now and it was better that Bucky could have hoped for. It was a little awkward at first, but once they got going it was hard to stop talking and laughing. It was like Steve was always  meant to be a part of Bucky’s life and Bucky just hadn't known he was missing anything until he had Steve. A part of Bucky was remorseful that Steve hadn’t been part of his life sooner, but mainly he was glad Steve was in it now. Both Clint and Natasha had commented on him seeming happier and he was proud to be able to say he felt happy. Steve made him feel giddy inside.

They spend most of their time in each other’s apartment. If Steve doesn't wander into Bucky’s apartment Bucky knows that Steve is wrapped up in some art project. Bucky loves watching Steve work. Steve is a little ball of passion and that really comes out when he’s making art.

They do go on dates though and Bucky is so proud to be able to show Steve off. He finds as many excuses as possible to call Steve his boyfriend. He doesn't mean in a possessive way he just loves hearing the word. Whenever Steve calls Bucky his boyfriend it sends a whole body tingle through Bucky.

The one thing they haven't done yet is meant the family and friends. Bucky’s family definitely knew about Steve because Bucky couldn't shut up about him, but They hadn't made the trek over to actually meet Steve. Bucky wasn't worried about anyone not liking Steve because really, not loving Steve would be a crime. Clint had already proclaimed he liked Steve without even meeting him because Steve had managed to make Bucky stop glaring all the time.

What Bucky was worried about, was meeting Steve’s friends. The way Steve talked you would think he was friends with a bunch of geniuses and people who were generally out of Bucky’s league. Bucky was just a 25 year who joined the military right out of high school because he didn't think college was an option. When that blew up in face, literally, he had been totally lost. He wasn't stupid but sometimes he felt like he was in class won't people seven years younger than him and light years ahead of him on the material. He still had trouble having conversation with strangers and being out in public toolong, but Steve never made him feel bad about it. In fact Steve seemed to get mad for him whenever Bucky was feeling bad about himself. But still Bucky was nervous to meet Steve’s friends.

“So I have a proposition for you,” Steve said from his laying in Bucky’s lap. They were laying on Bucky’s couch, Steve’s laptop in his lap while they watched Parks and Rec. They had both already seen it a million times but the show was good and when finally stopped making out they were actually able to follow the show.

“Mmhmm,” Bucky hummed into Steve’s hair.

“My friend is throwing a party this weekend. I normally would avoid his parties like the plague but they are guilting me into going because I haven’t seen them in a while,” Steve said.

They both knew that Steve hadn’t seen his friends because him and Bucky were literally living out of each other’s pockets at the moment. Bucky felt a little guilty about hogging all of Steve’s attention.

“I didn’t really picture you as the partying type,” Bucky teased. Steve titled his head back sharply effectively head butting Bucky.

“I said I don’t normally do that kind of thing but Sam was ranting about all kinds of statistics about people losing on average three friends when they enter a new relationship and that he didn’t want be one of the three,” Steve said apologetically. Bucky snorted at that. He didn’t even have three friends to lose. Well if you counted Steve then he had exactly three friends. “It’ll be an experience though. You can meet my friends,” Steve said.

“Yeah alright,” Bucky agreed going back to playing with Steve’s hair and watching mindless tv, dying a little bit on the inside.

Partying wasn't really Bucky's scene but he would jump off a moving train if Steve asked him to; which was absolutely terrifying because he barely knew the guy. He felt like a middle school kid with their first crush. He may have called Natasha right after Steve had invited him to squeal at her, but he would deny it to his dying breath. Bucky wasn't completely sure why he agreed to go since he could barely handle being around his study group let alone a bunch of strangers. He knew he was going to end up following Steve around like a lost puppy, which was not a cute look.

"How the fuck did you get invited to a party in Stark Tower?" Bucky couldn't help but blurt out as they rose the elevator higher and higher.

"Oh, didn't I tell you Tony's throwing a end of winter break "drown yourself in alcohol before school can kill" party," Steve said putting air quotes around the end, a look of distaste on his face that told Bucky that it was a direct quote.  It took Bucky a moment to realize that Tony must be the Tony fucking Stark, who Bucky knew attended their school but he only knew that in the same way that he knew famous actors and singers lived in NYC without him ever seeing them. He kind of just assumed Tony paid tuition, did his own thing and at the end of NYU would give him a diploma. He didn't think attendance policies applied to multi-billionaires.

It also took Bucky a minute to connect that fact that this all meant that Steve knew Tony Stark well enough to get invited to his party. Bucky was so out of his league. He had been preparing himself for adults sitting around drinking wine, not a fuckung Tony Stark party which regularly ended up on the news for causing some form of minor catastrophe. Fox News still liked to bring up the time Tony accidentally cashed a minor economic crash in France with one of his ragers. There was no way this was not ending badly.

"You didn't actually answer my question," Bucky said hoping Steve couldn't notice his impending panic attack.

"I meet Tony throw his girlfriend, Pepper who was in my art history classes," Steve said with a wave of his hand like it was nothing that he knew one of the richest men in the world. Bucky was sweating. There was no way Steve;s friends were going to approve of him, Bucky didn't even approve of himself. He knew he shouldn't put so much stock into people's opinions of him, but these were his boyfriend's friends. Their opinion of his mattered.

The penthouse was packed with people and alcohol. Bucky was terrified of getting separated from Steve and just froze in the doorway. Luckily Steve was better at this than him and just slipped his hand into’s Bucky’s and gently led him along while he looked for his friends.

Bucky could feel himself starting to get overwhelmed with all the people bumping into him and the blaring music was making his head hurt. He had already decided he wasn’t going to drink. Steve had asked him if it was ok for him to drink or if Bucky would be more comfortable with him staying sober. Bucky gave Steve his blessing to get wasted if he wanted to, but Bucky himself wasn’t going to partake.

Steve tugged Bucky to a stop in front of a group of people. The only person Bucky recognized was Tony Stark because of the amount of tabloids he was in. Steve went around introducing his friends, trying to raise his voice over the music but failing. Bucky was only able to catch a couple names. Before Bucky could figure out what was happening Steve was running away.

Bucky was halfway to a panic attack when the person he thought was Sam started talking to him.

“It’s nice to finally meet you Bucky. I thought we were going to have to storm your guy's’ apartment building to get Steve to come out,” Same said extending his hand out to Steve.

“Yeah. Sorry about that,” Bucky sheepishly.

“You look like the kind of person we normally kick out of the building,” Tony said brashly. Bucky gaped at him like a fish.

“You disgust me,” Sam said in a tone that Bucky couldn’t tell if it was friendly or hostile.

"I’m just saying that Steve's about as wholesome as apple pie and his boyfriend looks like he’s a homeless assassin," Tony said. Bucky stared at him him unsure of what he was supposed to do in this situation. He wanted Steve to come back.  

"Man, do you ever get tired of the bullshit that comes out of your mouth" Sam said thankfully. Bucky was more than ready to let Sam take the lead for this. "Steve has gotten us banned from more places than your annoying ass has," Sam said. Bucky let out a bark of laughter at that. He could totally picture Steve in all his hipster glory causing a scene because of some injustice.

"Hey!" Steve said appearing out of nowhere at Bucky's side. Bucky slung his arm around Steve's shoulders further tucking him into his side. Bucky felt a little less tense with Steve next to him, radiating heat into his side. "What are you guys talking about," He asked eyeing his friends warily.

"They were just telling me about how much of a punk you are," Bucky said with a grin.

"It’s all lies, I've never done anything wrong in my life" Steve said instantly with a smirk that said otherwise.

"I know babe," Bucky said pulling Steve in to kiss the top of his head. Tony made a gagging noise.

Steve didn’t leave him alone for the rest of the night, which Bucky was grateful for. He ended up having a better time than he thought he would. Steve helped pull him into conversations and was good at reading him when he was getting uncomfortable and need a break. They were plastered to each other’s sides which gave Bucky a sense of comfort.

Steve got steadily drunker as the night went on. It was funny to watch him go from the well put together to lose and friendly. Steve was handsy when he was drunk, Bucky had to stop wandering hands more than once. Bucky decided it was time to go when Steve passed out on the couch while Bucky was using the bathroom. He had to fend off a drunk Tony Stark with a sharpie. It was a good thing Steve was small because otherwise there was no way would have been able to get them home since he had to practically carry Steve.

He got Steve tucked into his couch , but when he tried to make his way to his own bedroom Steve’s iron grip dragged him back onto the couch where he had to awkwardly spoon Steve to fit. Bucky was first to wake up, which was not surprising at all. Steve’s head was on his chest in a growing pile of drool that even Steve’s cute make look cute. When Bucky disentangled himself from Steve’s skinny limbs, the blond just groaned and rolled over.

Bucky made them a quick breakfast while Steve slowly woke up. His blond head peaked out from the back of the couch a look of utter pain on his face. Bucky couldn’t help but smile to which glared back at him.

“Coffee,” Steve demanded making grabby motions with his hands. Bucky rolled his eyes but brought his majesty a mug of coffee. Steve made the most disgustingly inappropriate noise as he took a sip. “Sorry if I got a little crazy last night,” Steve said with a shrug.

“You were fine until you passed out,” Bucky said leaning into the couch. “It was fun,” he admitted.

“Mhh, it was nice to finally get to introduce my boyfriend to my friends,” Steve said. “Next step is me meeting your parents don’t you think?” Bucky couldn’t keep the stupid grin off his face. For the first time ever he was seeing Steve looking like a hot mess. His clothes were wrinkled from sleeping on the couch, his hair looked like smoothing was building a nest in it, and his skin all blotchy. He even had sharpie still on his face.

“Sorry, I just can’t have a serious conversation with a guy who has a dick drawn on his face,” Bucky said with a laugh.

“You let Tony draw a dick on my face?” Steve asked in a hurt voice.

“Sorry babe, he got to you before I could protect your honor,” Bucky said in his best remorseful voice.

“Is it at least a good drawing of a dick?” Steve asked as if the quality of art was really what was important here.

“I mean it's no Steve Rogers piece of art, but it's alright,” Bucky teased. Steve smiled leaning over the couch to pull Bucky into a kiss. Before the kiss could gain any heat through a set of claws dug into Bucky’s leg.

“For the love of god, you don’t even live here,” Bucky groaned trying to get the cat to dienage. Steve, the little shit was laughing at him.

“What you mean he doesn’t live here? He’s your cat?” Steve asked confused.

“No, he’s not. He’s just a little shit who breaks in and makes my life hell,” Bucky said glaring at the cat who ignored him in favor of climbing into Steve’s lap who started petting him instantly. The cat even had the nerve to start purring like it wasn’t a torn in Bucky’s ass.

“So that’s not even your cat,” Steve asked break into hysterical giggles.

“Nope,” Bucky said with a pop.

“Don’t worry it can be our cat,” Steve said with a soft smile that Bucky knew was going to be the end of him someday.

#Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #stucky #captain america #Winter Soldier