BONUS ROUND 1: THROWBACK PROMPTS

[a1c0bb]

In this round, we'll be using prompts from last year's bonus rounds! You can either come up with a prompt based on the previous themes, fill a prompt from previous bonus rounds, or fill a prompt that's been posted this year!

Here is the tag with all the previous bonus rounds!

Fills can be in any format, and you can fill your teammates prompts, but you cannot fill your own prompt.

You can post as many fills and as many prompts as you want!

for your prompt post title, please use the following format:

PROMPT: TEAM [TEAM NAME]

for your fill post title, please use the following format:

FILL: TEAM [TEAM NAME]

If you're filling from a 2023/2024 prompt, please link to their prompt in your post!

To participate, reply to this post!

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PROMPT: TEAM YELLOW TANABE

[arsquare]

For Prompt Fusion:

Walmart AU (your characters work at Walmart or equivalent chain store) + Enemies to Lovers

FILL: TEAM CAITVI

[heymacareyna]

ship: griddlehark | words: 1500

The particular shade of Walmart Blue was the bane of Harrowhark’s existence. She put on the uniform every goddamned morning and regretted her life choices. Not because she was above retail. She’d take a paycheck where she could get one, and frankly, she was good at the work. No, the problem with her Walmart manager position was her assistant manager. 

Gideon fucking Nav.

The towering, brawny redhead was second-in-command of the entire superstore, and she made no secret of how much she hated working for Walmart. She’d tried to quit eight-six times. (Harrow counted. It was her job to know.) But Harrow always snagged her on the way out and put her back to work, and Gideon always grumbled, and the next day was always more of the same.

Harrow once visited the Walmart on Sixth Street, where manager Palamedes and his assistant manager Camilla worked in perfect harmony. Harrow had been a little jealous, but mostly disgusted. Still, she wanted an assistant manager who listened to her. Respected her. Harrow was competent; what else could one ask for in a direct superior?

(Friendliness, she supposed? That wasn’t her forte, though, so here they were.)

Regardless of her shattered hopes and dreams, today, as always, Harrow arrived early and carefully prepped the store for opening. When Gideon arrived twenty minutes late, Harrow called, “Consider buying a clock, Griddle.”

Gideon flipped her off as she pulled on her blue vest over a rumpled shirt and cargo shorts that definitely didn’t fit the dress code.

Harrow delegated several tasks to Gideon the moment she clocked in, which earned her a long, low groan of pain. “I just got here!” Gideon complained. 

“Your shift started at five.”

“Yeah, and do you realize how insane that is?”

Harrow narrowly resisted the urge to throttle her assistant manager. Very narrowly. “It’s your job,” she said coldly. “Act like it.”

“Okay, but consider this: what if I jumped into traffic instead?” Gideon suggested.

What if I pushed you? Harrow almost replied, but she enjoyed being superior, so all she said was “I’d have to do a lot of paperwork about it, so I’d rather you wait until after your shift ends.”

“Oh my god,” Gideon grumbled, and then she muttered under her breath for a minute, featuring creative curses and physically impossible instructions.

Unimpressed by Gideon’s poor working knowledge of anatomy, Harrow turned on her heel and walked away. “I’ll check in on your progress at noon,” she warned over her shoulder, and she could almost feel the glare burning into her spine.

Another day in goddamn paradise.

***

Despite loud, extensive complaining, Gideon completed all seven tasks by noon, and Harrow only had to touch up one of the displays. It was good work, as much as she hated to admit it. Her assistant manager knew what she was doing, when she could be bothered to actually do it. So in a gushing, effusive display, Harrow told Gideon, “Good,” and handed her the corporate tablet. “Go in the back room and do your annual training. You can take your lunch afterward.”

Gideon made a face. “But I hate the corporate training. It’s boring as hell.”

Harrow enjoyed it herself, mostly because the hour of badly acted videos was an hour she didn’t have to spend talking to people. “It’s mandatory.”

“Your mom was mandatory last night,” Gideon grumbled.

Harrow sighed. “That retort was mediocre at best. Try harder.”

She expected more cursing and butchering-of-anatomy, but Gideon snorted. As in, a smothered laugh snorted. It seemed to surprise her as much as it did Harrow: she covered her nose and mouth, golden eyes wide with shock. “That wasn’t even funny,” Gideon insisted. “I’m not—I was just surprised. I didn’t laugh.”

“Of course not,” Harrow said faintly. She’d never made anyone laugh before, even unintentionally. She wasn’t sure what to do with that information.

“Jesus Christ,” Gideon muttered, though Harrow wasn’t sure why. Gideon shook her head, took the tablet, and strode to the back room. She glanced back at Harrow when she reached the door, and Harrow was still watching her go. Something crackled when their gazes met. They both looked away quickly. Gideon disappeared into the back.

Harrow pressed the heel of her hand to her sternum, trying to dissipate the warm feeling behind her rib cage.

It’s nothing, she told herself. Absolutely nothing.

***

The next day, Gideon was late again. Harrow glowered when Gideon finally strolled into the manager’s office, sunglasses still on, a Starbucks drink in each hand. Who the hell double-fisted overpriced coffees when the break room had a functioning Keurig?

“I need to take a long lunch so I don’t go into overtime this week,” Harrow started, but then Gideon plunked one of the cups down onto her desk. Harrow stared at it like it might be poisoned. 

“You take it black, right?” Gideon said instead of anything sensible.

Harrow nodded blankly.

“Nailed it. Okay, I’m gonna clock in. Go take your lunch.” And Gideon swept back out the door, leaving Harrow alone again, staring at the Sharpie-scrawled name and phone number on her coffee cup. Someone named Dulcinea wanted Gideon to call her, which was totally fine and none of Harrow’s business.

So why did the idea of Gideon on a date with someone else twist sharply in Harrow’s chest?

***

For the rest of the week, when Harrow’s and Gideon’s shifts crossed, a black coffee appeared on Harrow’s desk. No more barista phone numbers, thankfully. Just plain hot coffee and the unsettling knowledge that Gideon was…being friendly, in this one single way. Ugh.

They still bickered, still fought. At one point, Gideon threw a skeleton stuffie at Harrow’s head with the accuracy of a professional pitcher. Not that Harrow had ever once watched a baseball game. She certainly didn’t have the muscle mass to play. But she knew the concept, and the velocity at which the toy collided with Harrow’s skull would have made a pro player proud.

It didn’t really hurt, but Harrow threatened to put Gideon on multiple double shifts when she planned the next work schedule, just on principle. (She didn’t do it.)

But Gideon kept acting up, and Harrow kept smacking her down—again, on principle. She didn’t understand why Gideon insisted on this nonsense. Any given workday would have gone so much smoother if Gideon just followed the rules and kept her head down. Instead, it was warfare, with a mischievous glint in those amber eyes.

And a black coffee on the desk every morning, like nothing else had happened between them. 

Harrow thought this might just be the new normal, and it wasn’t bad, even if it wasn’t quite…clicking into place as right. As what she wanted long-term. She didn’t know what she wanted, but she felt like she hadn’t settled into it yet. She was learning, though, how to handle it. Or so she thought. But then Gideon changed things again—Harrow was wavering in the break room on all coffee no food, having skipped her usual breakfast and worked through lunch to cover for a sick employee. She thought she was hiding it well, but Gideon passed by. With only a glance, she detoured to her locker. Then she handed Harrow something that crinkled and said, as if it were nothing, “Here, eat this. You’ll feel better.”

And heat prickled Harrow’s face, crawling up her cheeks to the tips of her ears, as her fingers closed around the item. She looked down. A granola bar. Such a small thing…and yet it was from Gideon, so it meant more than it had any right to.

So Harrow snapped at the one employee in the kitchen to go find something productive to do, Isaac. Once the area was clear, she turned and glowered at Gideon, who raised an eyebrow.

“What are you doing, Griddle?” Harrow demanded. “What is this?”

“A granola bar,” Gideon said lazily. “Pretty high in protein, actually, for not technically being a protein bar.”

“Why did you give it to me?”

“You skipped breakfast.”

It was miniscule. It was insignificant. It was…everything.

So—in a moment of absolute idiocy—Harrow fisted a hand in Gideon’s vest and dragged her down to crash their mouths together, her other hand coming up to cup the back of Gideon’s neck, to hold her in place (as if muscular Gideon couldn’t pull away if she wanted to). Gideon made a very un-Gideon-like noise, surprised and pleased and desperate above all, and then big, rough hands clutched at Harrow’s body, kneading like she’d been waiting for this for a while. And god, did it feel good.

Harrow climbed Gideon like a ladder as her assistant manager hiked her up and pushed her against the wall. She nipped at Gideon’s lower lip and then urged her to open her mouth. Gideon moaned when Harrow dared to dip her tongue inside, and Harrow wanted, wanted, wanted to—

Then a shocked employee’s voice broke through the haze:

“Gideon? Harrowhark?”

Shit.