the white raven is sent to herald the coming of winter

anonymous asked:

FRIENDS AU - “our christmas party turned into a tropical theme because the radiator is broken and it’s hotter than hell in here - damn you look good without a shirt i never noticed before asgdhfjgkhl” with “we’re co workers who hate each other but you had too much to drink at the staff christmas party and admitted your love for me i don’t know how to act around" for bellarke

I’m sorry this is late, dear anon! Belated Merry Christmas!

my god, the way it feels

“I love my job, I love my job,” Clarke Griffin chanted as the elevator doors slid open to reveal the chaotic, fluorescent-lit, white-walled offices of the Ark City Herald.

Clutching her takeaway bagel in a brown paper bag in one hand and a Venti peppermint mocha in the other, while the coffee-bearing arm kept a thick manila folder of galley proofs pinned precariously to her chest, she edged past writers arguing with their editors, dodged subbers pacing the floor with phones pressed to their ears, and skirted around cartoonists playing trashcan basketball.

Just when she thought she would make it to her cubicle without incident, a deep, strident voice cut through the hum of copy machines and the rattle of keyboards. “Griffin! I have a bone to pick with you!”

Clarke stopped in her tracks and lifted an exasperated gaze to the ceiling. “I love my job,” she repeated under her breath, before turning around with the politest, most noncommittal smile that she could muster.

Bellamy Blake stalked towards her, all tight, chiseled jaw and narrowed brown eyes, not even sparing so much as a glance for the interns who hastily scurried out of his way. Clarke maintained a neutral expression as he shouldered into her personal space, refusing to be intimidated by his fierce glower and imposing six-foot frame.

“How can I help you, Blake?” she asked.

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