Choices || Dream Team x Reader (Discontinued)

Chapter 1 - Lucky Donation

"I have never been this angry in my entire life over a fucking potato!"

Y/N standing in the kitchen with her clenched jaw, trying to hold in her anger. She looks at the awfully shaped potatoes on the iron tray that she pulls out of the oven. Those potatoes somehow explode inside the oven and nearly break her oven. Y/N has never been this desperate to get herself a self-made breakfast, but it seems God does not give her the ability to cook. You can probably tell by the looks of her tiny delicate hands but somehow born with a brazen attitude.

Y/N sighs. Irritated? Definitely. Tired? Ha! That's a big no when you can find a chance to see her climbing up an apple tree at 3 am. Anyways, she starts to clean the mess that she made. And the author quotes, she is struggling.

After a few minutes with curses, she heard footsteps from upstairs. Her head snaps. Y/N move as fast as she could to hide any left evidence that she almost burned down the house at 7 am. Clearly, making sounds that are not natural in the kitchen.

"Y/N?"

Shit.

The kitchen looks clean enough to not attract any suspicion. Y/N runs through the hallway to the living room and jumps on the couch. She opens LikLok and pretending that she's been there the whole morning. The voice of footsteps stops. This made Y/N got a bit curious. She raises her head to look over the couch. In the hallway door, a brunette boy is walking slowly who seems to be looking for someone. When he notices Y/N, his eyes widen.

"Y/N?! What are you doing here so early in the morning?!"

Y/N wakes up. She glances at the boy and back to her phone. "Good morning, George." She can feel the stares piercing through her defences. Sharp enough to make Y/N shivers. George walked to the couch and sat next to Y/N with a questioning look. He crosses his arm demanding an explanation which Y/N is not good at, especially a story based on lies. "I was just not having a goodnight sleep so I woke up too early." Y/N brush part of her hair so that it could hide half of her face from George. The air tenses up as the silence ring through Y/N ears.

The person besides Y/N is her roommate. George Davidson. A very protective best friend who actually moved in with Y/N just to carry out his duty from Y/N's mother. Y/N's parents, especially her mother, got a little worried when she told them that she wants to go to college in America. The thing is, Y/N lives in England with her parent since 'forever'. The idea of sending Y/N to America by herself is not acceptable for Y/N's parents. So, she took George hostage and told her parent that George will be her guardian. Surprisingly, her parent agreed to it. George was devastated, I tell you. His family also agreed to let George go to America which made him more devastated.

That's how he ended up in the same house as Y/N's guardian and roommate in New York City.

Y/N looks at George straight in the eyes and blinks innocently as if George would let her go. And actually, he did since he just woke up from his beauty sleep. Y/N hear his sighs. "Whatever you say, Y/N. I'm too tired to argue with you right now. I gonna go make coffee." Y/N  just smiles back at George until he vanishes into the kitchen.

Not a minute after George went in, Y/N hears a shriek. "What happened to all of the potatoes that I bought yesterday?!" Y/N gasp with the realization that George told her not to touch any of the potatoes because he needs them for...something. Y/N quickly ran to her room upstairs. George follows behind her with an angry face, also screaming angrily with an accent. Seems like he found out that his potatoes are gone to the trash bin. Soon Y/N's right to enter the kitchen will be there as well. 

What a hellish morning to start the day. It ends up with George finally took away Y/N's right to touch any tools in the kitchen without his supervision. Y/N agreed with another few curses since it looked like George told Y/N that she can't cook. Obviously, that is true, even the author can't cook too. What a coincidence.