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danaewrites · 3 months

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you with the dark curls (you with the watercolor eyes)

part ii: i wanna hear you speak to me

james potter x reader // read it on AO3

word count: 3.6k

summary: “Falling in love with your best friend was never a good idea, but you’d managed to do the idiot thing anyway, carrying a torch for a boy who would never look past Lily’s emerald eyes to see the watercolor ones that had always been by his side.”

tags: best friends to lovers, angst with a happy ending, based on the song "dear arkansas daughter" by lady lamb, fem!reader

author's notes: new year, new chapter! i started writing this one back in SEPTEMBER and finally had enough time away from the terrors of calculus homework to finish it. thanks for reading my story so far and i hope you enjoy this incredibly self-indulgent chapter, because i had way too much fun writing it!! i promise that the angst in this chapter *will* be resolved, but it was too deliciously tempting to resist sprinkling a wee bit of hurt/comfort and dramatics in there as well. sorry not sorry!

read it all here: part i, part ii, part iii (coming soon!)

“I’ve got no bloody clue how Dumbledore can be so energetic all the time,” you groaned, head in your hands as you peeked out at the headmaster’s more-than-slightly manic grin from your seat at the Gryffindor breakfast table. You were far too sleep-deprived to process his latest choice of garish attire: a bright chartreuse robe covered in plaid polka dots, topped off with what appeared to be rhinestones and tinsel attached to his beard.

Perhaps if Kettleburn hadn’t assigned you three feet of parchment on the seventeen glorious properties of dragon dung yesterday and expected it done by this afternoon, you might have appreciated the headmaster’s creative fashion choices– oh, who were you kidding. There really was no understanding that wizard, even properly rested. James and Peter had made a bet during fifth year on how long it’d take Dumbledore to crack under a constant deluge of pranks in his office, but they’d quickly realized that the man was too far gone to do anything but take inspiration for school events– an idea that was quite frankly, comically frightening, and the sort of thing you weren’t keen on pondering on a normal Tuesday morning.

Sirius wrinkled his nose sympathetically and slid the pile of raspberry jam tarts closer to you. “Late night in the library again?”

You nodded sheepishly, gratefully taking a pastry from the pile. “I honestly don’t know why Pince allows me to stay past curfew. Marauder’s luck, I guess?” Your attention was diverted by the sound of hoots and flapping wings as the morning owl brigade arrived, apparently choosing a kamikaze dive-bomb approach to deliver this morning’s newspapers. Ah, the joys of living at the world’s most advanced magical school.

Sirius, ever the epitome of grace, slipped under the table as a rogue owl zipped past, popping himself back up just enough to throw you finger guns. “Exactly right, doll, exactly right,” he grinned. “Trust me, Marauder’s luck gets you everywhere. And I mean everywhere,” he winked, sending you a lecherous smirk.

“Ew, Sirius, I don’t even want to know,” you sniffed. “I’ve learned my lesson after the mental trauma your tales of Dorcas’ birthday adventures inflicted upon my psyche. Please, spare me the details.”

“What? All I meant was Slughorn’s Christmas Party, of course!” He batted his eyelashes angelically, still partially covered by the tablecloth.

Your mouth gaped open in shock. “Last year’s Christmas party? Sirius Orion Black, I refuse to hear another word! What on earth would your ancestors think, with you bragging about such exploits-”

He leaned over, eyes wide with laughter. “No, I meant the one Slughorn is throwing on the 21st, it’s exclusively for us lucky seventh years this time. Although, you bring up some very fond memories… okay, okay, I’ll stop, don’t kick me–”

“What are we kicking Sirius for?” James slid onto the bench across from you, eyeing a groveling Sirius with interest. Peter joined him, but wisely chose to stay away from the ruckus, piling his plate high with the bacon the owls had spared. Remus was noticeably absent, spending the morning resting in the infirmary after a rough night of shifting– which you assumed was much more peaceful than the current chaos at the Gryffindor breakfast table.

“Oh! Good morning, Jamie,” you beamed up at him, passing him the plate of desserts you’d been protecting from Sirius’ nefarious advances. “Morning, dove,” he greeted you, and then paused. “Ha, get it? Morning dove?” He puffed up his chest smugly and nudged Sirius with his elbow in a futile effort to make him laugh. You huffed fondly at his antics. Boys.

Sirius rolled his eyes and took advantage of your momentary distraction, retreating back onto his seat to nurse his wounds– to your ever-growing delight (and Sirius’ woe), you had recently discovered that the Hogwarts girls’ uniform shoes were quite sharp. “At this point we should call you Lames. ‘Cause your puns are lame,” he muttered.

You shooed him away with a brush of your hand, remembering what Sirius had mentioned earlier. “According to Sirius, Slughorn’s hosting a Christmas Party again this year. Let’s pray it won’t be like the last one.” You muttered. James and Peter both looked vaguely ill at the prospect, shuddering in unison. “My tie will never look the same again,” Peter griped, but suddenly sat up straight in his seat. “Hey, wait, we’re finally old enough to bring dates to this one! Without sneaking them in, I mean.”

Sirius snickered and lightly punched his shoulder. “Why, Petey, got some lucky girl in mind?” Peter reddened and glanced over at the Hufflepuff table, where a certain freckled blonde was chatting with her friends– a move that didn’t go unnoticed by James, who gave a delighted wolf-whistle. “You got a thing for Lucy Abbott, huh? Might want to make a move before Smith does,” he grinned, gesturing to the tall brunette boy who’d just arrived and sharing a knowing smirk with you. You giggled at Peter’s increasingly pouty expression; he’d figure out sooner or later that Smith was definitely not interested in Abbott– or witches in general– but it was entertaining to see him out of his comfort zone. Peter had always been the quietest of your little group, and you privately thought that a bit of momentary romantic angst might spur him to be more assertive. An ironic opinion, considering how your own love life revolved around the fact that your best friend had feelings for someone else… and you couldn’t do anything about it except mope.

Peter scowled. “Easy for you to say, Prongs, you’ve finally got precious Lily-flower wrapped around your finger. I bet you’ve already asked her!”

There it was: another reminder that James wasn’t yours, and never would be. You watched as the Gryffindor boys good-naturedly jostled his shoulder and tousled his curls. James grinned sheepishly, shrugging off their teasing. “Not yet,” he admitted, glancing hopefully at the end of the table, where Lily was chatting with her friends.

Peter rolled his eyes. “Aw, come on, we all know she’ll say yes this year.” Sirius winced, looking at you out of the corner of his eye. Peter glanced at Sirius, drawn by the movement. “What’ve you got to worry about? Half the population would kill Dumbledore to get one dance with you. The only person who’s got to worry about a date is me– well, and maybe Y/n, I guess.” His face suddenly turned contemplative, looking you up and down. “Are you going with someone?”

Sirius’ grimace became doubly pronounced at Peter’s tactlessness, and you felt your face heating up. Peter had a way of accidentally hitting on the issues others tried to hide. It wasn’t his fault he’d never heard about your trips to Hogsmeade with a paramour– in fact, none of the boys had. Because there hadn’t been any. You’d spent your entire time at Hogwarts pining after James, and as a result had missed the romantic milestones your classmates had already blissfully bragged about.

Peter looked at you expectantly, waiting for a response, and you opened your mouth to confess your lack of experience when you spotted a familiar redhead walking gracefully towards your side of the table– to James, you realized with a start. Something within you ignited as you watched her glow with confidence, carefree and lovely as ever. Lily would never pine after someone uselessly; she knew she could get anyone she wanted with the right amount of banter and flirty gestures. You... Well, you weren’t there quite yet, but maybe it was time to take inspiration from the Muggle saying and ‘fake it til you make it’. And before you could think about what you were about to do, you turned to Peter and smiled coyly. “I might.”

James’ and Sirius’ heads snapped up immediately from their perusal of the breakfast lineup as they let out an identical murmur of surprise. “What?” James furrowed his brow, looking you up and down– seemingly trying to discern whether you had taken a holiday from your senses, most likely via Bludger-induced concussion at the last Quidditch match. Sirius merely raised a questioning eyebrow at you. You groaned internally, knowing that you’d have to explain yourself later… although, if your half-baked idea worked, you’d be spending a lot more time with him anyway. For now, you beamed innocently at both of them and took a sip of your pumpkin juice. Apparently, the Sorting Hat had placed you in Gryffindor for a reason- you were either incredibly brave or incredibly foolish to commit to this plan, but with Evans quickly approaching, you saw no other choice.

Peter looked momentarily shocked, then glumly began to assemble an egg and bacon sandwich seasoned with the occasional mutterance of “unfair” and “perpetually single, my arse”.

James’ eyes were still trained on you. “Who is it?” he asked, searching your face again as if he was looking for some indication that you were joking. You shrugged, trying to look casual. “I guess you’ll just have to find out, won’t you?”

“Dove-” he began, but Lily finally reached his seat and placed one stupidly perfect hand on his shoulder, diverting his attention momentarily. “Sorry to interrupt your breakfast, but Professor McGonagall asked me to bring you to her office for Quidditch scheduling.” James blinked, glancing up at her and then at the rest of the table. He stood up and focused on you again, expression clouded. “I’ll see you in Potions, yeah?”

Sirius stood up quickly, ushering him out of his seat with a speed you’d only seen him use to gulp down cheap Firewhiskey. He gave you a significant look. “Actually, Y/n and I were just about to take a walk, isn’t that right? So we'll both see you in Potions, what a sublime coincidence, now don’t be late for your meeting–” he chattered on as he shoved James toward the doors of the Great Hall, the latter eyeing him suspiciously but moving nonetheless. Sirius turned to you and pointed to the courtyard entryway. “You. Me. Talk, as in right now.”

Once you were sure that you’d made it out of earshot of Peter and the rest of the Gryffindor table, you wheeled around to face him. “Okay. First of all… I didn’t plan that.” Sirius raised an eyebrow again. “Second of all, I need a favour,” you pleaded, staring up at him with the most adorable doe eyes you could physically summon. They were usually most effective on James, for some reason, but you were sure that Sirius wasn’t immune to your manipulation either. He groaned, resting his face in his hands. “How do you even have a date? Last time I checked, also known as yesterday, you were still head over heels for Prongsie, doll. So do I need to check you for Amortentia or somethi–” He peered out from between his fingers with annoyed realization. “You don’t have a date, do you.”

You blinked innocently up at him. He let out a long-suffering sigh and ran his hands through his hair. “This is what you need the favour for? You want me to go with you to Slughorn’s party so you can pretend in front of the rest of Hogwarts that you’re not madly in love with Jamie?”

You grinned confidently up at him and slung an arm around his shoulders. “Aw, Siri, you know me so well. It’s almost as if you were maaaade to be my date for the party...” You fluttered your eyelashes up at him one more time for good measure, trying to hide a smirk. “Alright, alright, stop with the Bambi act, I’ll take you.” He scowled good-naturedly. “You know, this is going to ruin my dating pool for the next month.”

You scoffed. “As if! If anything, you’ll just have more people fawning over you– temptation of the forbidden apple and all, you know.”

Sirius brightened up considerably at this revelation. “Well, why didn’t you say so in the beginning, doll! I vote that we match in purple velvet, it does wonders for my complexion–”

You gave a very unladylike snort at the thought of you and Sirius swanning into the party in some sort of horrendous plum-coloured disco getup, and shooed him away towards the Potions classroom. That was an eyesore to imagine sometime when you weren’t about to get a headache from the dim dungeon lighting.

Slughorn greeted you and Sirius by directing you to the front of the classroom with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Oho, a pair of latecomers, I see!” He winked at you and Sirius in exaggerated motion. You winced as Snape jeered and nudged Malfoy, who was busy enjoying Flint’s crude gestures at you. Ugh, Slytherin boys. The worst of the lot. Their snickers were quickly stopped by James chucking a handful of powdered wormwood at their heads when Slughorn turned away, making Malfoy’s prized hair appear covered in soot. You shot him a grateful smile.

“Since you two missed my initial remarks, let’s see if you can make it up by identifying today’s potion, hmm?” Slughorn gestured dramatically to a shimmering green brew in a cauldron next to his desk, cherry-coloured smoke curling off of the top invitingly.

Sirius shot you a panicked look, clearly not expecting to be put in the academic spotlight, but you shook your head and stepped closer. You smelled something rich and incense-like, which meant that Bumburrel leaves were a key ingredient. And combined with the way the smoke was drifting lazily around your wrists, curling higher and higher… “Brew of Mandelian, sir. Used for sharpened acuity under times of pressure.”

Slughorn gave a delighted chuckle and clapped his hands. “Well then! Ten points to Gryffindor for paying attention in lectures!” He dismissed you and Sirius with a wave, moving on to explain the finer points of ingredient preparation to a very bemused George Goyle as you slipped into your usual seat beside James.

You worked in quiet harmony for a moment, methodically slicing and crushing the slippery beetles needed to give the brew its signature green colour while James handed you the insects. He broke the silence after six beetles (not that you had been counting or anything) with an awkward, “So… you have a, erm, date?”

You huffed, motioning for him to hand you the foul-smelling Moorish tubers next. “Honestly, James, is it that surprising?” He scratched the back of his neck, frowning. “Well, I– yeah, I guess.” he trailed off, seeing your expression.

“The tubers, Jamie, thank you. I mean, you looked at me like I was a ghost back in the Great Hall!” You were decidedly not making eye contact with him, trying your best to focus on the slimy plants in front of you and not the fact that your best friend-slash-unrequited crush doubted your romantic potential. What a way to be humbled– and while covered in tuber juice, no less!

He huffed, running a hand through his already messy curls. “Come on, Y/n, it’s not like that. What did Sirius want to talk about in the Great Hall, anyway? You two looked… chummy.”

You glared down at the copper slicing board. “Well, it’s none of your business how chummy we are, is it? I don’t interrogate you every time you converse with Peter. In fact, it’s rather expected that Sirius and I speak to one another on occasion, considering the amount of time we all spend together thanks to you.”

You moved to grab another tuber from the jar, but James reached out and grabbed your hand, forcing you to look at him. His hazel eyes were alight with frustration, a look you knew by heart thanks to the hours you’d spent tutoring him in History of Magic after he napped his way through the entire first semester. “Are you serious? You’re actually going with someone?”

“Please, Jamie, do enlighten me on whyever you think I couldn’t possibly get a date with my numerous and diverse charms,” you sniffed, hoping to Merlin that he would just leave the entire subject alone.

“No, it’s–” he groaned, leaning back in his seat. “The other boys, they don’t know how– you’re so, I mean, just look at you!” he exclaimed, gesturing at you. He stopped, frowning to himself, looking more confused than before. He glanced over at Lily, expression becoming even more muddled, brow furrowed and hard to read to anyone but you.

Your mouth parted in shock, and to your dismay you felt tears bubbling up again. You blinked fiercely, refusing to let him see you cry. James thought the issue was… your looks? You suddenly wanted to crawl under Slughorn’s desk and never come out again, except perhaps to find a shovel to dig your grave with. This was far, far worse than watching him transfigure chocolates for Lily every Valentine’s Day. Now you knew for a fact he didn’t find you attractive– thought other boys didn’t either, even! And the way he’d clearly mentally compared you to Lily after what he’d admitted… well. There was no recovering from that. Teenage boys could be dense, but Merlin, how you had wanted him to at least let you down gently.

You wished you’d never opened your mouth to lie about having a stupid date in the first place, but you forced yourself to laugh and mutter something trite about how that could all be fixed with a couple glamour charms anyway so it really wasn’t an issue for the party, thank you very much. He looked even more confused, opening his mouth to respond, but Snape chose that moment to interrupt.

“Hey, Potter!” James turned to scowl at the greasy Slytherin as you thanked your lucky stars for Snape’s interruption (a rather disturbing thought– potentially a harbinger of an imminent apocalypse. You’d never thanked Snape before in your life and hoped to never do it again). “Here’s payback for earlier,” he smirked, checking that Slughorn had dozed off and the other students weren’t paying attention before whipping a mottled yellow bottle at James.

James’ carefully honed Quidditch reflexes kicked in and he quickly dodged the object, but as the vial soared up, up, past your carefully diced tubers, over James’ messy notes, it hit your arms and shattered. You flinched in pain, crying out as the glass shards embedded themselves in your arm and the congealing, repulsive liquid dripped down your hands and onto your thighs. James lunged towards you, but it was too late– the potion had already seeped into your skin, causing an awful sparking sensation.

You gasped, grabbing onto the desk as the feeling bubbled upwards. “Jamie, I don’t– I don’t feel–” you stuttered, suddenly lightheaded, and you heard someone gasp as you began to taste something metallic. You absently touched your nose. Why was it so cold and wet? You had been so careful not to touch your face around those horrid tubers and oh, oh Merlin and Morgana what was that pain in your hands and legs, please no make it go away someone help me help me HELP

You vaguely registered someone whimpering in the background. It might have been you, but you weren’t entirely sure what was happening outside of the electric symphony of agony crescending in your nervous system. The pain built swirled flooded through until you weren’t sure where you ended and the potion began which was a funny thought because of course you were you, but you couldn’t remember who you were before this so you laughed but that really hurt, oh how that hurt no no no no no bad idea–

“Fuck– no–” James? Was he here too?

You blinked– when did your eyes open?– and saw him reach for you, frantically pushing his dark curls off his forehead. Why would he do that? You loved his hair, even when you were feeling funny awful things from the potion. You felt his arms scoop under you, lifting you off your seat as he caught your head from falling back. You heard a door slam open, footsteps, darkness clouding your vision–

His voice. “Sweetheart, no– don’t do that, I need you to keep your eyes open.”

You blinked again, trying to focus on James’ face. He looked pale, jaw set and tensed like it was before his Quidditch games. Were you moving? You couldn’t tell whether James was walking or the hallways were walking around you. He glanced down again, exhaling with relief once he saw whatever he was looking for. “Yeah, just like that. Keep those pretty eyes focused on me, okay?”

He thought your eyes were pretty?

James gave a tight laugh. “Yeah, I think your eyes are pretty, dove. Hold on a bit longer, we’re almost there,” he choked out.

Oh. Had you said that out loud?

But you thought– he had said something, before, you couldn’t remember now but it was important and it hurt–

Some part of you, deep where the potion hadn’t reached, had melted at his words. That part was tinged with pain, too, but in a different way, raw and honest and hopeful and all for him. Or maybe that was the potion, you were pretty sure witches weren’t supposed to melt unless they were green and lived somewhere much further west, but your thoughts on the whole process evaporated as you reached a white door and a woman and your words started to swirl until they melted too and everything went black.

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helloheyhihowdyheya · 10 months

Text

Rose Thorn Blues | p. 1

Peter Parker x fem!reader

Masterlist

Summary: The other Daily Bugle intern has been a thorn in your side all summer. But if you wanted the job, you'd have to work with him. And you'd do anything to get it.

Word count: ~7k

Warnings: Enemies to lovers!! Banter. Criminal activity. Swearing. A bit of angst but not really. J. Jonah Jameson lol.

A/n: I think this'll end up being around 3 parts, but we'll see. This has been tumblin' through my mind since last year, so I'm glad to finally let it out lol. Let me know your thoughts! Thanks for reading <3

You used to enjoy the clear sky on a sunny day, the vibrating blue that stretched until it curved around the horizon. Used to love the way the lapping waves of the Atlantic shimmered for miles, its ripples echoing the sky’s image. The blue of the world before the sun came up, or the indigo quiet of a rainy day.

You even used to love how red the rusted bricks outlining your apartment building looked, tracing the tips of your fingers along them as you walked by, scarlet pebbles breaking off into your palm. The cherry glow of a late-night diner’s “Open” sign made the beats of your heart stutter, its lights reflecting off the glass and illuminating puddles littering the sidewalk. Even with the occasional rose you passed on your way to work, the red petals surrounded by thorns and overgrown weeds, you still leaned your nose in to smell its sweet crimson scent.

But that was before your internship at The Daily Bugle, before you had to write countless stories on Spider-Man all the time, and before you knew Peter, the other intern. Now, every cloudless day or trip to the ocean, hell, even the plump blueberries in the grocery store or a swirling glass of Merlot, an obnoxious red stoplight, or the tiniest cut exposing a drop of blood turned your stomach. You knew people could change you, but you’d never expected to hate the shades of red and blue — until you stared at it every day while standing in Parker’s shadow.

You’d shake your head, shove your fingernails into your palm, blink so hard your vision turned bright just to erase those colors from your mind and him from your thoughts. But you would have no such luck as you weaved your way through New York’s sidewalks under the summer sun, a barely-there breeze passing alongside the traffic. Your hand clutched your phone tight in its grasp.

On it held a photo of Spider-Man you’d just taken earlier that morning. He stopped a robbery, and you captured the moment he’d ripped off a car door to use as cover — a story that J. Jonah Jameson would love to spin into something ridiculous. You had nothing against the superhero, but it was what your boss wanted. The boss that would decide which intern would receive a full-time position at the end of the summer, and you wouldn’t go down without a fight against Parker.

He always had clearer photos and more information on Spider-Man — always seemed to get on the scene before you. You wouldn’t have been that upset if Parker actually was a better reporter than you, but that smug, chronically late asshole certainly wasn’t better than you. Not when you worked twice as hard just to watch him successfully stumble his way through this internship.

And that stupid shrug he gave you when Jameson chose his story over yours! He’d mutter, “Better luck next time,” as if you weren’t covering for his ass half the time. You weren’t sure why you did it anymore. Maybe you didn’t want to watch him get fired since this wasn’t an easy opportunity to get, but you definitely wouldn’t mind sitting back and enjoying him get chewed out by Jameson.

But that was unimportant now as you made your way into The Daily Bugle’s building, savoring the air conditioning as your breath tumbled from your mouth. This picture and the eyewitness statements you took would create a story Jameson wouldn’t think twice about choosing, especially when Parker always came in late in the mornings.

Walking through your floor’s doors, photo pulled up on your phone, you quickly dropped your bag at your desk before making your way to pitch the idea to Jameson. You’d mentally written the first half of it on your walk here already.

Your steps faltered though as you neared the office, hearing your boss’s voice echoing through the office.

“Good work, Parker. Finish it by noon, and we’ll publish it today.”

He was already here? Silently, you gritted your teeth, peering into the room. And of course, out walked Parker, one hand holding papers and the other shoved in his pocket.

“The one day you’re on time… I can’t believe this,” you quietly muttered, feeling a weight sink into your stomach. His shoulders hung casually while yours raised up and down with your breaths. His half-smile made you stare daggers into him.

He just raised an eyebrow at you. “Good morning to you too, sunshine. Most people happen to love my presence.”

You silently ignored his nickname for you as you said, “Then most people must be lying to you. What story did you give him?” You pointed your head toward the office, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“So you can go in and try to one-up me?” He scoffed, his eyes annoyingly bright and warm. “No thanks.”

As he made to walk away, you grabbed his arm despite your aversion to being near him. Even the heat of his skin made you too warm, just another reason to stay away from Parker. “I lied to Jameson last week while you were off doing who-knows-what when you should’ve been working. Now what was the goddamn story?”

The sound of other employees talking and making coffee filled the background. If you could just beat him, you’d be part of them one day. So you didn’t let up, waiting for him to answer as he looked between your hand and your eyes. He shook off your touch after a moment.

You watched his jaw tick, his eyes roll to the back of his empty head. “Fine. And because I don’t think I could handle the second-hand embarrassment. I’ll tell you that if your story’s about whatever Spider-Man was up to this morning, you might want to skip telling Jameson.”

The grip on your phone loosened a bit, along with the hope you’d put into this — into trying to prove that you were a good reporter too. But, of course, you were always stuck finding stories on Spider-Man, and too late with them anyway. Anything else wasn’t important news, not at this company.

You tried, and failed, to keep your frustration from your voice as you asked, “And how did you get here before me with that story? You’re literally never here on time and just always have some bullshit idea that’s barely a story.”

Parker just gave a short laugh, smirking at you. “And yet… I still beat you. Kinda stings, huh?”

You gave a grumbled “Piss off” before letting him walk past you this time. You filled up your water bottle, headed to the bathroom, made small talk with some woman you’d immediately forgotten the name of — all distractions so you didn’t have to go back to the desk that sat much too close to Parker, especially while he worked on the story that should’ve been yours.

When you finally returned, you refused to look at a particular person across from you — the two intern desks only separated by a half wall. You just fished out your headphones at the cheap desk with no air conditioning under the city’s hot summer.

A much-needed break from Spider-Man you gave to yourself, you continued working on a story you started researching last week. You’d gathered some statements and data about new unsafe water conditions in certain parts of the city. The story wouldn’t star on the front page of the website, or even the second. Third, if you were lucky.

The morning passed with minimal shouting coming from Jameson’s office and just a few “friendly” follow-up emails with sources you hadn’t heard back from. In the brief moments of silence between the end of one song and the beginning of another, you listened to traffic flowing through the streets below and the droning sounds of keyboards and the printer.

Only once you finished up the first draft of your article and turned to grab your notebook from a drawer did you notice a sticky note plastered on the edge of your desk. In messy handwriting, it said, “You type like a child bangs their fists on a piano” followed by a doodle of the sun, with sunglasses.

It wasn’t difficult to tell whose horrible scribbling this was. So after writing “Eat shit <3” on the back, you crumpled it up. You tossed it right at Parker’s face as you stood up, going to a meeting with one of the full-time writers here. Instead of knowing he caught it like always, you pretended it hit him right in the eye and gave him a papercut.

You didn’t look back as you approached Alice’s desk, the lead writer of the office. Her black curls bounced as she lifted her head, smiling at you. “Ready?”

“Yes, and thank you again for meeting with me,” you said, nodding with your notebook under your arm. She stood up, motioning you toward an empty office for the informational interview — mostly just asking her about her career in hopes it could help yours.

Sitting across from one another, you took notes as she spoke about herself and answered your many questions. Your writing filled one page after another, your wrist becoming sore but ignored under the weight of knowing this information could be important. When you asked what advice she would give to someone just starting out as a reporter, the silence that followed made you finally lift your head.

Alice looked at you with a soft smile while your pen stalled. “I would tell them that it’s not an easy career. And that it’s not for those without passion. You have to want this — and show it. The stories out there you want to tell… you can’t be afraid to search out the truth. ‘Leaving well enough alone’ has never been in my vocabulary.”

Your unfocused stare stayed on her while you processed those words… and the worry that you weren’t cut out for this work. There were stories you wanted to tell, but you couldn’t find the place to tell them. A cynical part of your mind shouted that maybe Parker did deserve the job at the end of this internship more than you.

The thoughts must have been evident on your face because Alice spoke again, her voice calm but stern. “Don’t worry. I see the passion in you. The best advice is to not let Jameson or anyone else stop you. ‘Kay?”

You nodded, unable to stop the smile on your face. So caught up in her words, you wrote down a condensed version of her answer: Follow your heart. Your thumb rubbed over the dried ink of the page, feeling the ridges of each letter. “Thank you, Alice. I’ll keep trying,” you said, and meant it.

She let out a light laugh, the sound loosening the tight muscles in your shoulders. “You better. I’ve been rooting for you to get the job,” she whispered, giving a wink that had you laughing too.

“Well I can’t let you down then, can I?” Letting your smile fall just a little, the curve of it no longer touching your eyes, you silently hoped that you wouldn’t disappoint her. Thanking Alice again, you made your way back to your desk with too many thoughts running through your head.

Slow moments passed as you returned to your chair, the cheap thing squeaking underneath you with each movement. Still, you closed your eyes for a second, just feeling the cushion beneath you, the armrests under your hands, the backrest keeping you from collapsing. A breath filled your lungs, chest rising inch by inch. You would not wait for anyone’s permission to change the world — even if that just meant ignoring your lying thoughts to change your own little world.

Slowly, you went back through your notes, adding bits here and there that you missed while Alice had spoken. At the bottom, you just underlined her final advice… letting the words bleed into your body as you promised to keep them at the center of your stories.

It kept you focused on your article surrounding unsafe water quality in the city. Thankfully, the hours passed quickly, and you got the article up on the site by the end of the day. All with minimal interruptions from Parker — despite another sticky note that said “Thanks for the granola bar ;)” on it. And sure enough, the granola bar you had on your desk was no longer there, but you silently tossed the note in the garbage without letting him know he got to you.

Though, with no snack, your stomach was definitely grumbling as you packed up. So you made the trek to a cafe with your backpack on, one headphone in, and a middle finger aimed toward Parker when he tried talking to you, a smirk plastered on his face that told you he had nothing important or nice to say.

The summer heat hit you as you exited the building, making you strip off your office-appropriate blazer. Still, you didn’t mind the sunlight after spending all day inside. Your music drifted into your ear, the beat of it matching your steps. You turned the volume down once making it into the bakery with the best after-work treat, the pink sign outside painted with cursive words: “Pat’s Pastries.”

Baked bread and sweet chocolate filled your nose, the smell helping you forget about work for a minute. You ordered your favorite cookie, pointing to the biggest one behind the glass. Silently, you ignored the whole tray of Spider-Man themed cookies they’d begun selling after the superhero saved the store from a robbery.

Instead, you just left the shop with a bite of the cookie already in your mouth. It practically melted on your tongue, tasting better than any granola bar Parker could steal from you. The cookie lasted you all the way home, filling you with a pleasant warmth.

In your apartment, you stood in the entryway for a moment. With slow movements, you removed your shoes, setting down all of your things. You’d only been collapsed on your couch for a few minutes before your phone vibrated. Part of you thought to ignore it and let the weight of your heavy eyelids drag you into a nap, but you knew it could be work. A groan came from your throat as you saw that it was work — a comment left on your article already.

People that commented on these pieces often had few nice things to say, so you braced yourself upon opening the site. Your thumb slid across the screen until you reached the bottom. Left by some guest user, the comment simply read: “What’s new? Beaumont fumbles again…”

Beaumont. Ellis Beaumont, the current city manager. He’d certainly faced as much backlash as any other official since he’d taken over five years ago, but you hadn’t considered him all that much when researching for this article. Did he have to do with poor water conditions in the city?

Before you could stop yourself, your hands went to your laptop. Your fingers typed across the keyboard, searching for relations between him and other issues the city faced recently. What came up most often was Beaumont’s press releases after most of them. His salt and pepper hair sat tightly cut to his head, no specks of dust visible on his expensive-looking suits. In each one, he stated how he and his team would work on fixing the problem — from unaffordable housing to upgrading technology throughout the city.

It wasn’t new to see a leader promise to do something and not follow through, but something kept sticking with you while you researched. At some point, between the sun falling behind the city skyline and ordering takeout to be delivered, you found yourself with dozens of open tabs and tired eyes.

Raking a hand down your face, you let out a long sigh. You finished reading another speech where he promised to fix something, crumbling infrastructure this time — “if only we had the funds!” And cue the part where he asked for donations to his nonprofit organization or proposed a government plan that would cost the citizens in tax money. Yet… hadn’t he raised the money? The last you’d checked, the street he’d mentioned repairing still had its potholes and unusable sidewalks.

A knocking on your door brought you to it, your eyes never leaving your computer screen. You just grabbed your food and paid the deliverer with a mumbled “thanks” before walking back to the laptop.

As quickly as you could, you yanked out your notebook from your bag and wrote down everything about Ellis Beaumont — before your food got cold. Your wrist ached again as you flipped the page, continuing to fill the lines with his career, his promises, and his letdowns.

Each of his projects toward bettering the city came with asking for money — money that didn’t show back up in the work. He’d made no updates as to how much he had raised or how he was going to use it. At the end of your notes, you wrote down in heavy ink: “Where is Ellis Beaumont’s money going??”

And even as you ate, trying to watch the comfort show you’d put on, your mind kept working in the background. Had others not also wondered this? Or if they had, did he have them in his pocket already? Sleep fought you that night, making you toss and turn in bed. But you had a story.

–

Walking into The Daily Bugle, you ‘clocked in’ (let Jameson see you in the office) and dropped off your bag. With just your notes, a pen, and a granola bar so no one would steal it, you made your way back out of the building.

Right before you made it from the office, though, a mop of dark hair appeared at the door. A small part of you wanted to somehow hide, the other part unable to resist the draw of him for whatever reason. But Parker chose for you, his eyes lighting up when they caught on your form. Your following scowl was enough to make him laugh.

“There she is, our lovely sunshine,” he said, leaning against the door frame. You ignored the sarcasm dripping through his words.

Instead, you raised your eyebrows and told him, “If Jameson asks, I’m out researching a story. Got it?”

“Woah, woah, woah.” Parker pushed off the frame. His smirk was enough to set you off, but then he held out a hand to block you from passing. Behind your unyielding glare, you secretly hoped he tripped over his untied shoelaces or smashed his hand in the office printer. As he came closer to you, he asked, “Where are you off to? I haven’t seen any sightings of Spider-Man.”

“That’s a shame,” you said, uninterested. Grabbing his forearm, accidentally feeling the hard muscle underneath, you moved it out of your way. “Have fun getting him coffee!” You shouted it over your shoulder, leaving him standing there while you ignored the heat on your palm from touching his skin.

You shook your hand out, waving away the memory as you took the subway over to City Hall. It had to be as good as any place to start researching where the city’s money went after Ellis Beaumont flashed a white smile and pocketed it. He probably wouldn’t talk with you, but anything to get you closer would be worth it.

Emerging from the subway station, your eyes squinted against the brightness. Still morning, the heat hadn’t settled in yet — just leaving you with a sunny walk and a nice breeze.

The building’s intimidating size rose high toward the sky. A statue of justice, a woman holding scales and a sword, stood atop City Hall — staring down at each person as you entered the front doors. The ornate architecture and grand staircase inside didn’t help settle the daunting feeling crawling in your stomach.

Still, you walked up to the man sitting behind the front desk there, trying to look as friendly as possible. Smoothing out your outfit and putting a smile on, you said, “Hi.”

He looked up with a classic customer service grin to greet you. “Hello, how can I help you?” he asked, leaning toward you slightly.

You kept your shoulders back, mustering some sort of confidence in your investigation. How would Alice do this?

With a clear voice, you directly asked, “If I was looking for records of donations for a government-related nonprofit, would they be here? I couldn’t seem to find them online.” You gave him an unassuming look.

“Typically, but what nonprofit were you looking at?” he asked, typing something into his computer. You took out your notebook low enough that he couldn’t see past the desk.

Pretending to rack your brain for the name, you said, “I think it’s called Stronger Together. I love being able to see where my donation goes — it helps make me feel closer to the community, you know?”

Your hand ready to write fell limp when his mouth pressed tight, his eyes leaving the screen to meet yours. “Ah,” he said, “Well Mr. Beaumont is not always able to update that information, as he has many responsibilities to maintain.”

“Of course, I understand. Though, I also noticed that the recent infrastructure project has yet to be enacted. Is there an update on that?” You willed your voice to stay steady, to be unwavering under the impatient gaze of this man.

A muscle seemed to twitch in his jaw. “I don’t believe the organization has given one, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t been working on it. He is a very busy man.”

“Busy enough that I wouldn’t be able to speak with him directly?”

“I’m afraid not,” he said, shaking his head, but he didn’t seem too sorry at all. “We could take your number for him to call you when he’s available, but…”

“He’s very busy,” you finished, giving a smile as you bit back a pained sigh. “That’ll be okay, I’m happy to have helped the cause.”

“Yes, and we’re very thankful for your donation.” The tight grin he gave looked like it hurt his cheeks to make.

“Well, thank you for the information,” you said. Just as you were about to leave, beginning to leave with nothing to show for the story, you turned back. “I know this is quite specific, but would you know what Mr. Beaumont’s next project is?”

Another flicker of impatience flashed across the man’s face, his hands clasping together. “No, I wouldn’t, but I’m sure it will be a great help to the city whatever it is. I think there may be a nonprofit fundraiser this weekend… but those are typically closed events — for investors and friends,” he said, his smile turning less warm by the minute. “You can donate online anytime.”

“Great, thank you,” you muttered before turning around, frantically jotting the little information you received down in your notes while walking away. You swore you could feel the man’s eyes on you until you slipped out the doors.

The entire ride back to the office, this story ate away at you. Everyone seemed to be keeping information on Beaumont’s money close to their chests, even about what his supposed nonprofit was really doing.

‘Stronger Together.’ You rolled your eyes, beginning to feel like he was the only one getting stronger. And he was having another fundraiser so soon? Probably for something like conservation this time — his team would likely make a whole show of planting a couple trees and get praised for it.

As soon as you got back to The Daily Bugle, you ignored everything as you dropped into your chair and opened your computer. Your fingers flew over the keyboard to type up the notes, both for decoding your scribbled words and ensuring you kept the information in multiple places. You tried tuning out the background chatter and the gnawing worry that this whole story would lead to a dead end, but you couldn’t ignore everything…

“Whatcha typin’ there?” Parker said as he swiveled his chair around the desks to look at you. Glancing for a moment at him, you saw the shit-eating smile pointed your way.

Your face flashed a fake grin. “Your resignation letter, Parker.” You continued typing, not responding to his quiet scoff. But then he stood up, his steps gentle against the floor. He towered over you as he came around to look at your screen.

Before he could even reach your desk, you switched tabs to a blank page. Without glancing up at him, you silently waited for him to stop watching you. It worked well enough at first, your mind happily turning blank instead of entertaining him.

But he put his hand on the edge of your desk, his body now much too close to yours. The warm scent of him washing over you had your skin prickling, your fingernails pressing into your palm.

Barely heard above the blood rushing past your ears, his voice came out quieter than you’d expected. “So secretive. You won’t even share with me?”

Ignoring the glint of smugness on his face, you turned to look up at him. “So you can try to one-up me? No thanks,” you repeated, using his words from yesterday.

“But given my track record for front-page stories, I’m sure you could definitely use my help.” Parker shoved a hand in his pocket, winking at you with those stupid dark eyes. In that moment, you wondered whether you could somehow frame him for helping Spider-Man and get Jameson to tackle him.

So caught up in that happy fantasy, you didn’t catch Parker’s other hand creeping across the desk until he’d already snatched your notebook. And before you could even stand to grab it back, his leg came up and pushed on one of your desk chair’s armrests, sending it spinning.

While your legs tried stopping the chair, you heard him say, “How are you even able to read this? Okay, I won’t tell Jameson, but you’ve gotta be honest with me: do you know how to write? Or read, for that matter.”

“I was walking while taking notes– whatever, Parker. I don’t need to explain myself to your dumbass,” you whisper yelled at him, stalking over to his side of the desks. But he moved the notebook away, cocking his head to the side.

With a grin that told you just how much fun he was having, he said, “Huh, I didn’t know your pretty little head knew how to multi-task.”

You opened your mouth for a second, processing that he called you pretty, before rolling your eyes. “Must be hard to imagine anything with your smooth brain. Now give me my notebook back.”

In the background, you heard Jameson screaming to some poor soul on the phone. You hoped it at least covered up your bickering with Parker. But it wouldn’t be able to drown out the sound of you strangling him, which you were now seriously considering as he held up a finger to you.

In a calmer voice, he asked, “Are you really doing a piece on Ellis Beaumont?”

Scoffing, you reached over and grabbed your notebook from his grasp. He didn’t seem to put up much of a fight, hopefully mentally perceiving the threats running through your mind. As you returned to your desk, you glanced once more at him — and got caught on something in the look he gave you.

“Yes,” you told him before sitting down, leaving Parker and any distractions on that side of the half-wall. The last thing you heard was a sigh before you put your headphones in.

For the rest of the day, you finished writing up your notes and your other assigned work. In between projects, you secretly continued researching everything you could about Beaumont and where those donations went. Site after site returned empty, most of them just filled with propaganda for his non-profit.

With weary eyes and a fuzzy mind, you finally found something as everyone in the office began to finish up. You wiped a hand down your face, a weight lifting from your shoulders when you discovered an address.

Searching through countless websites, some of which you probably shouldn’t have been using your work computer for, you combed through records of donations to Stronger Together. Most listed City Hall or Beaumont’s address in their donation. But one other address continued popping up more than a few times — somewhere in upper Manhattan, far from where the organization would operate from.

If you were listening to Alice’s advice to follow your heart, you would’ve stayed home. Your pounding pulse yelled at you that going to check out this address after sunset was the worst idea you’d ever had.

On your walk home and all through dinner, you pushed back against the trickling fear down your spine — caused by the ice-cold voice in the corners of your mind filled with every worst-case scenario. It only grew louder as you neared the address.

You hadn’t done much field work before, or any that hadn’t just involved taking blurry pictures of Spider-Man and making New Yorkers talk to you. As you walked along the sidewalk with your shoes tapping against the cracked concrete, following the directions on your phone, you wondered whether you were cut out for this. You kept your head on a swivel and senses alert, but did you have any clue what you were going to do once you reached the building? No, not really.

You had come after dark, so breaking in certainly didn’t seem out of the question. And as much as you disliked thinking about him, knowing that Parker wouldn’t back away from this if he were here kept your legs moving.

Before long, with a warm breeze at your back, you came up to a large warehouse. It sat in a pretty empty area — one with few people around that you could see. A few street lamps illuminated the space around it, the light stretching down a small alleyway next to the building. Craning your neck, you began walking down it, seeing whether you could peer in anywhere.

Your fingers brushed along the building’s side as you passed by several dark windows. Unable to spot anything through them, you crept toward the back. No workers, or anyone really, seemed to be there. Nothing except for a metal fire escape. It seemed to lead up to a door with more windows lining either side. Fluorescent lighting shone from inside.

Swallowing hard, you forced your body to walk toward it. Each step you took up went slowly, trying to keep your feet silent as you climbed the stairs. Under the weight of the stars and night sky, even with the sounds of traffic passing by, each breath felt too loud.

Silently wishing to anyone that’d listen, you hoped no one stood on the other side as you slowly looked in. But you only found boxes — not all that surprising, but disappointment mingled with the relief coursing through your muscles.

Hundreds of boxes sat throughout the warehouse, lining countless shelves. You made a guess that they probably weren’t storing any tools for fixing the infrastructure like Beaumont promised. But you wouldn’t be able to find out what they held without breaking in, something you didn’t think your nerves could take.

Though… someone else could show you what’s inside.

From the corner of your eye, you saw a brief movement along the floor of the building. Someone moved into view, dressed in a black uniform and holding a clipboard in their hands. They walked to a shelf you could just barely see and opened up one of the boxes. They set the clipboard aside to pull out something… long and metal. At the end appeared to be a claw of some sort–

Internally, you winced, instantly able to recognize it from all your articles. It was one of Doc Ock’s arms. The other side was full of fraying wires, no doubt ripped apart from a fight with Spider-Man. God, why did everything always have to come back to Spider-Man?

And, in that moment, you must’ve pissed off some god of fate to deserve this irony. As you were about to pull out your phone to capture the evidence, your thought alone summoned the man. A web attached to the worker, the other end coming from the red and blue superhero crouched on a support beam. Within a second, he pulled them up to the ceiling and cocooned them in webbing to dangle there — the scene forcing an involuntary gasp escape your lips.

Spider-Man had jumped down with supernatural grace and looked like he was going to investigate the box further, but whipped his head toward you at your gasp. Your heart crawled into your throat, your hand snapping up to cover your mouth.

Racing down the fire escape, your scrambled thoughts tumbling around your head, you hurried back to the street away from what you’d witnessed. But before you could leave the alleyway, a flash of those dreaded shades of red and blue dropped down in front of you — your feet stumbling backward as you barely kept a startled scream from coming out.

“Hey, hey. Not here to hurt you. I do the opposite actually,” Spider-Man said, his hands up to show you he meant no harm. His voice sounded unnaturally deep, but blood rushed past your ears, clouding your senses. You shook your head slightly, trying to focus on getting out of there.

“But uh…” he continued, cautiously taking a single step closer, “I don’t think you live at this address. Is that right?”

You absentmindedly chewed on the inside of your cheek, debating on how much to tell him. He’d caught you sneaking around, but was that technically even a crime? Most likely. But clearly, you both were after some pretty similar things. So, while nodding your head toward the warehouse, you quietly asked, “What’s in there?”

His head tilted to the side as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Some no-no things. Which is probably why I should handle it, right?”

“Handle it how? By handing it over to the police?” you asked, a small jolt of panic rising in your chest. “What if it connects to something larger?” Your questions assumed that he didn’t exactly know where this warehouse came from and how it connected to Beaumont, but maybe not. Still, you couldn’t risk cutting this whole thing off early and breaking the investigation apart… and the story.

“Does it connect to something larger?” he asked, his gaze never seeming to leave you. You couldn’t tell much behind his mask, but the weight of those white eyes stayed focused on your face. They watched every microexpression crossing your face, despite the urge to hide from them.

Knowing you needed him on your side, or at least to not cover you in webs, you gave him a little more. Nodding, you said “Yeah, I think it does. I’m not sure how it all fits, but…”

“But?”

Pursing your lips, you let a breath pass before answering him. Jameson would kill you if he knew you were having this whole conversation without taking ‘photographic evidence’ and helping out Spider-Man. But that man was a prick anyway.

Letting out a long sigh, you said, “Check out Ellis Beaumont’s non-profit. I don’t think the donations are going where he says they are.”

He just cocked his head, but you moved around him, ready to leave this place and those watchful eyes. Your gaze avoided his as he let you pass toward the street, though he yelled out, “Do you need me to walk you home?” You just waved him off, your pace picking up. Still, he shouted a “Thank you!” for the information as you made the journey back to your apartment.

Unable to calm your body back to normal just yet, you found yourself jumping at every noise around you until your apartment door locked behind you. What you’d seen ran through your head again and again.

What did Beaumont want with Spider-Man? Or was he working with the villains to get rid of Spider-Man? His money couldn’t just be going toward costume dress-up storage, but breaking into that warehouse alone was out of the question for you. Leave it to the superhero rather than risk your neck.

Your brain racked itself for answers, working to figure out what interest Spider-Man had in showing up at that warehouse anyway. Even into the next morning, these thoughts plagued your mind. It left you in a haze as you entered The Daily Bugle — the noise of the coffee machine and Jameson’s muffled yelling more distracting than usual.

Even more offputting was that sat at your desks was Parker, the second time he’d ever beaten you into the office. Immediately, his eyes found yours, but you didn’t have the energy to give him a sneer or a smart-ass comment. You just started up your computer, planning to type up your notes again. Your hand rubbed down your face as you waited for it to turn on, already anticipating the inevitable interruption.

Sure enough, Parker stuck his head over the half-wall, leaning his forearms along the top of it. His chin rested on them as he said, “You look rough.”

Without raising your eyes to him, you let out a long sigh. “Wow… Thanks,” you said, letting an unimpressed look take over your face. You opened your notebook, turning to the pages where you wrote every piece of information you could remember after the events last night.

Parker raised his hands up in surrender, as if he hadn’t insulted your appearance. “Jus’ saying, you seem a bit stressed. Need any help, sunshine?”

At that, you finally raised your gaze to meet his — his ruffled hair dipping over his forehead while waiting for your response.

You squinted your eyes at him, your eyebrows furrowing at his words. “...I’m not letting you take this story from me, Parker.”

“Hey, I could merely co-author this story with you,” he offered with that smirk of his. “And I’m sick of writing about Spider-Man’s favorite restaurants to order from. C’mon.” He dragged out the word, practically begging you.

Crossing your arms across your chest, you considered him for a moment and his offer. His mouth tightened, drawing your gaze down to his lips and the sharpness of his jaw. Not the time.

“You really want to help me?” When he nodded, you still didn’t believe him. With a scoff, you asked, “Are you going soft on me?”

A sharp laugh escaped his mouth. “Don’t get used to it. This would cost you a week’s worth of granola bars.”

“Aren’t you the one asking to join?” you questioned with a smile you couldn’t hide. When he didn’t budge despite his ridiculous demand, you just muttered, “I’ll think about it.”

The long groan he gave as he sat back down told you how he felt about your answer, but it was easier to ignore now that he wasn’t staring at you. Why he was so interested in this story made no sense to you — not that you thought about it long as you finally typed up your notes.

Instead, you tried to figure out where to go next, where this warehouse might lead you. But a growing fear told you that it wouldn’t lead anywhere, your research online not giving you someone to question or even contact information for Beaumont. This politician seemed to keep things annoyingly tight under wraps.

As minutes slipped away while you ran into dead end after dead end in your searching, you internally debated whether to accept Parker’s help. Waves crashed in your stomach, the tide receding far away as if in anticipation of a tsunami — one threatening to destroy you. Letting him in meant risking your story, and risking the chance that he could get all the credit for your work.

As much as you hated the idea of sharing this with him, part of you thought you might’ve been in over your head. Especially after the run-in last night. And Parker certainly knew his stuff… sometimes. Not that you’d tell him that.

It was only once your search about Beaumont and that warehouse frustratingly turned up blank once more that you let out a sigh. It seemed it’d be a story with him or no story at all.

“Parker?” you called across the desks.

The sound of his chair shifting joined his raspy, “Yeah?” You bit back a grin as you realized you’d woken him up from one of his frequent work naps. When he swiveled into view, the red spot on his cheek from where he must’ve laid it on his arms confirmed your suspicions.

Still, you had to clear your tight throat before telling him, “You can help. But only if my name goes first, got it?” Before he could respond, you followed with, “And I take the lead on things, okay?” Your stare pierced his eyes, silently begging him to not take this from you.

The small laugh he gave loosened your tense shoulders just a bit, made your fists unclench. “Whatever you say goes…” he said, nodding with the most honest look you’d seen from him. “With some exceptions though. Cause you have a lot of bad ideas I’d like to veto.”

You wondered whether asking for Peter Parker’s help was one of those terrible, idiotic ideas. You hoped not.

@reidslovely

#peter parker #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfic #peter parker enemies to lovers #andrew garfield #tasm andrew garfield #tasm!peter #tasm peter parker #tasm spiderman #spiderman #spider-man #spiderman x reader #spider-man x reader

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indigowallbreaker · 2 months

Note

Fluff Prompt 25 (“I would marry you again in a heartbeat.”) for Bernadetta/Sylvain ! (please and thank you gj writing lately I'm so proud and happy to see you writing again)

-crying- This idea is incredibly soft, thank you <3 I'm sorry it took me a hundred years to finally finish.

[prompt rules]

[more Beagles stories]

25. “I would marry you again in a heartbeat.”

Not once all evening had someone approached Bernadetta to proclaim they were Lord/Lady So-And-So and such a shame about your father and could you introduce me to-- blah blah blah.

Not once all evening had Bernadetta felt the need to hide away because the hall was too crowded with strangers or people that whispered behind her back.

All that, combined with the amazing food and lively music, made this the best wedding Bernadetta had ever attended. The next time she got a moment alone with Ignatz and Claude, she planned to praise them and their planning skills.

She felt a hand at her lower back. "You look happy," Sylvain said in her ear. "What are you thinking about?"

It had been a long time since Bernadetta had felt shy about telling her husband what was on her mind. But the specific thing she was thinking sounded rude no matter who she said it to. "Just that this is a great wedding," she answered instead.

Sylvain hummed in agreement, watching Ignatz dance with his mother. "Much better than ours."

Bernadetta practically sagged against his side. "Oh good, you think so too." Sylvain wrapped an arm around her and laughed into her hair. "I didn't want to be mean but you're right!"

"It helps that Ignatz wasn't expected to invite half the Kingdom. Or my parents."

The memory of their wedding day still brought exhaustion to Bernadetta's whole being. More than half the guest list had been people Bernadetta had never met before in her life, and half of that number had been people Sylvain detested. Their mothers had gotten along entirely too well for their liking, Sylvain's father had scowled the at everything, there had been no end to the people who wanted to worm their way into the good graces of the new generation of Margraves--

Bernadetta watched Ignatz laugh as his brother dramatically whisked their mother out of Ignatz's arms and into the next song. Apart from a few merchants and the Almyran guards keeping party crashers at bay, everyone here was friend or family. This wasn't a hot social gathering for connecting with those in power; it was a celebration. And a spirited one at that.

Familiar lips brushed her forehead. "We should have another one," Sylvain murmured, quiet enough to give Bernadetta pause.

She looked up at him. "Another what?"

"Another wedding." He laughed again. "I mean, not the mess we had before. A wedding like this." Sylvain nodded to the small gathering around the dance floor, the grins, the honest enjoyment, the way Ignatz and Claude beamed at everyone.

Then Sylvain ducked his head against hers. "Never mind. That's a lot of fuss for no reason."

"It's not for no reason!" Bernadetta turned in his arms and cupped his face. "I'd marry you again in a heartbeat!"

A bright blush took Sylvan's cheeks but he chuckled, holding her gently by the wrists. "Yeah? Who are we inviting this time? His Highness and Marianne, that's a given."

"Ferdinand too. And Petra since she couldn't make it to our first wedding."

"We should probably invite Claude and Ignatz. As thanks for the idea."

"Yes! And Felix and Ingrid and Leonie and Dorothea!"

Sylvain laughed. "While we're dreaming, do you think Ashe could cater the whole thing?"

Bernadetta pouted and squeezed Sylvain's cheeks again. "I'm not dreaming!" She stated. "I would marry you again. I will marry you again!"

The levity in Sylvain expression vanished, replaced with a slack jaw and round eyes. "You're serious," he said with faint awe in his voice.

"I am." She let him pull her hands away, gripping them tight. "Our wedding wasn't us, Sylvain. I want a wedding that's about us. Our happiness." Bernadetta lowered her head to his chest, her next words muffled. "I love you."

Sylvain let go of her hands and wrapped both arms secure around Bernadetta. "It wouldn't be too much for you? Another wedding?" He asked, voice low and comforting.

"With you, I can do anything." Even as she said the words, Bernadetta felt her face burn up. That sounded more like something she would write in one of her stories, rather than something she would say aloud.

Sure enough-- Sylvain laughed and kissed the top of her head, ignoring the fist she blindly beat against his shoulder in embarrassment. "We'll plan more tonight, then," he said. "Maybe I'll corner Claude and see if I can get him to explain how he kept it secret that the King of Almyra was getting married in a random Alliance village."

"T-That would be useful to know."

With another chuckle, Sylvain pressed his lips to the top of her head again, this time leaving them there as he said, "I love you, too."

No Lord/Lady So-And-So came to interrupt their moment. No intimidating old noble who would look disparagingly upon them. No one was around them except for those Claude and Ignatz held dear.

So Bernadetta simply stayed in Sylvain's arms for a few beats longer, letting him rock them gently as the music on the dancefloor picked up speed. She would dance with her husband later. Maybe even dance with Ignatz. But first, she had this moment of peace, and she used it to think about her own upcoming wedding.

#fire emblem three houses #sylvetta #bernivain #bernadetta von varley #sylvain jose gautier #beagles run #moeblob #i wrote the first three fourths of this in October if you can believe it

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goshdangronpa · 19 days

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Sayaka Maizono!!

Hi, anon! I'm so glad someone asked about her, she's always fun to think about. A character you can really play around with in different contexts and interpretations. It's weird that I haven't written a story about her yet.

Sexuality Headcanon: Sayaka is straight-up gay. I saw that one bit from Danganronpa S, they're no way she could like Makoto as more than a friend!

Gender Headcanon: Cis, but the type who's actually thought a lot about gender rather than passively assuming that vagina = girl. I believe she'd support a transfem idol ... so long as she remains the Ultimate.

A ship I have with said character: I recently wrote about a couple of reasons why I find ikuzono so appealing! It can be a real mutually healing relationship, with two people who've hurt and been hurt finding solace and sympathy and redemption in each other. It can also be a relationship where they bury bodies together. I've also read a truly great (and tragically incomplete) series that anyone who likes Sayaka, Mukuro, and good writing in general should check out: Sing Me a Song of Despair!

A BROTP I have with said character: Sayaka's goal is to be an inspiration for girls and women. All girls and women. As a transfem Chihiro supporter, I quite enjoy the idea of this embodiment of femininity helping Chihiro reconcile some of her gender hang-ups. Women with strength don't have to be ripped like Sakura, athletic like Aoi, or scary like Genocide Jack. They can be beautiful, sweet, girly, confident, and determined like Sayaka. I think her support would really shake Chihiro's worldview ... though Sayaka might still agree with her that it's a dog-eat-dog world out there.

A NOTP I have with said character: Sayaka is virtually the only female Danganronpa student I wouldn't ship with Ibuki, mostly because I'm really committed to a rather detailed sayabuki arc that ends in turmoil. Two teen girls hit the big time at the same time, and their managers get the bright idea of pairing their acts in a summer package tour. As they travel across the country and work hard to one-up each other's performances, they show each other the weirder sides of themselves that the public doesn't get to see. They bond over a mutual passion for music ... and, one night, discover a mutual passion for girls. It doesn't take long for them to start exploring their sexuality together, snatching kisses and cuddles in the rare moments when they can evade their bandmates and entourages. Ibuki lets herself fall wildly in love ... but Sayaka's keenly aware that the tour will end. One night, after sneaking onto the roof of a supermarket after hours to have a truly private moment and watch the stars, Sayaka asks, "You know this won't last ... right?" She lays it out: idols aren't allowed to date anybody, much less someone of the same sex, and she won't compromise her career or her dream over a little summer affair. Ibuki’s devastated. It proves to be the last push she needs to drop her own pretenses and be her true, freaky self, ultimately splitting the band and creating the rock iconoclast we know and love. Sayaka would still think about her sometimes, even listen to her new singles when few former fans would, wonder if that girl was right that prioritizing her career over her relationships may bring success but not fulfillment ... She doesn't regret anything.

A random headcanon: Sayaka didn't accept the invitation to Hope's Peak immediately because she feared it would eat up precious time in a career that's already expected to end in her late 20s at most. She eventually accepted for precisely that reason: that Ultimate status will open doors long after the industry stops seeing her as youthful enough to sing on stage.

General Opinion over said character: I'm of two minds, and both are extremely positive. 1) How can anyone possibly dismiss Sayaka as a loathesome snake when the entire goddamn point of that first murder trial is that the killing game, one of the most stressful and extreme situations a human being and especially a literal kid could ever face, could compel even an otherwise kind person to commit murder? You don't have to like her for her attempt at murdering Leon and framing Makoto, but if you don't buy that Sayaka was ever a nice person, I reckon you've missed the point of Danganronpa. 2) Sayaka has a devious and coldly pragmatic side ... and that's fun. I like the idea that she's generally kind and sweet, but a bit of a sneaky bitch when she really wants something or really doesn't care for someone. In a non-despair AU, this would be ripe for drama and especially comedy! Let her be little a snake, as a treat🐍

#sayaka maizono #danganronpa #trigger happy havoc #thh #Sayaka is a snake (positive)#ikuzono #mukuro ikusaba #chihiro fujisaki #ibuki mioda #sayabuki (break-up arc)#thanks for asking!!#headcanons

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give-soup-please · 2 years

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Could you write Narrator reacting to a reader who stays up all night online talking to their friends? (not self projecting! nope-) anyways thanks :)

Narrator and a reader who stays up late talking to their friends (platonic or romantic)

He pokes your side. “Reader, it’s three in the morning. What on earth are you doing, staying up so late?”

He glances over your shoulder. “Discord again? Honestly, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were addicted.”

He continues, “I don’t care how- what was that word? Humans… your linguistics shift so often, it’s hard to keep track. Anyway- I don’t care how ‘dank’ their ‘memes’ are, you need to go to bed.”

You clutch to your computer. “Just one more message.”

“Oh no, no, no, no, I’ll not be part of this. You can either comply willingly and get to sleep, or…”

You’re curious to see what he can do. He’s not going to hurt you, you know him too well. “...Or?”

He doesn’t really have a plan. Vague threats used to work, he’s sure. “Or else!” he finishes, more weakly than he intended.

You smirk. He didn’t have anything he could actually use.

He sighs dramatically. “Look, if you’re going to stay up late talking to your friends, why not talk to me? We are friends, aren’t we?”

That’s a low grade manipulation tactic. You don’t fall for it.

“I’m just saying- that if we were truly friends, you’d spend time with me as well. It’s not easy for me, because you’re my only connection to this world.”

You scoff, but you’re slightly worried. “That’s because I’m the only person you willingly talk to. Nar, if you want friends, you have to, you know, actually make an effort. I shouldn’t be your only connection.”

He starts to whine. “Oh- none of them live up to my incredibly high expectations. You’re the best of the best, reader. How can I possibly expect to meet new people, when I’ve already met with the best? Surely you’ll be moved by my fits of loneliness…”

Flattery… You’re not sure where this is going, but you’re mildly suspicious. You glance at your laptop, then back to him. You sigh. “Alright, let’s chat. Just let me tell them I’m logging off, and I’m all yours.”

You don’t think about how you worded that. He purrs in satisfaction. “Ah, excellent choice. I’m so glad you’re coming around to see reason.”

You snort. “Don’t push it.” You sign off for the night, and swivel in your chair to face him. “Alright, I hope you had a topic in mind, because it was your idea in the first place.”

“Of course I do! Why, I’m full of good ideas. Now listen closely, I’ve been developing a new script, and…”

He continually hypes up his new script without actually giving anything away. After about ten minutes, you lose patience. “Why not just read it to me? I could- I could be your listener, and give feedback.”

He gasps. “Why- I hadn’t thought of that. What an excellent idea. Here, lean back in your chair, and let my words wash over you.”

You don’t think much of his phrasing. It was odd that he hadn’t thought of just reading his script, like he usually did.

You put your feet up, and his words begin to coast around you. This was an unusual story. A lot of repetition, a lot of cycles and loops. His voice is very soothing, though.

Actually, you don’t think you’ve ever heard him sound like this. He’s murmuring quietly, voice deep and rich. Your eyelids grow heavy.

This wasn’t like any of his other stories. Usually, he throws himself into whatever dramatis personae is needed, really projecting and acting it out. Instead, he keeps a steady rhythm. This is… an interesting change.

The quality of his voice has changed as well. It sounds like he’s directly talking into your ears.

You yawn. Now that you’re no longer looking at a bright screen, your eyes start to adjust.

Things are calm and quiet. The narrator weaves his narrative well, drawing you in.

After he’s finished with that story, he immediately launches into another one. You’re too tired to protest.

His voice starts cutting in and out, slowly but silently dropping into a whisper.

Things feel so nice right now, You lounging in your chair, the narrator’s voice steady and smooth. It’s so…

…

“Zzz..”

If it wasn’t important to keep quiet, the narrator would have let out a cackle.

You wake up the next morning in bed. How did you get there?

The narrator comes in to your room, beaming away like the sun. “Sleep well?” There’s a certain amused smugness in his tone.

“…did you manipulate me into falling asleep?”

“Oh come now, ‘manipulate’ is such a strong word. Just think of me as the narrative guide to your dreams!”

“You really couldn’t handle me giving attention to someone else, could you?”

He sounds affronted. “Perish the thought. If I am concerned for a loved one’s sleep schedule, and they’re stubborn enough to not take care of themselves, then it’s my duty to step in as the concerned party and help.”

You’re smiling. “You’re full of shit.”

You can hear the smile in his voice too. “And you have more energy to conquer the day than you would have otherwise. It’s all a matter of interpretation, reader.”

#the narrator x reader #the stanley parable #tsp narrator #tsp #headcanon #answered ask #stanley parable #narrator #could be read as platonic or romantic

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ginnympotter · 1 year

Text

Maroon

A/N: I’m so sorry I’ve been so MIA!! I’ve been focusing my writing on screenplays lately, but you know when a new tswift album comes out i’m going to get inspired. Here’s a little James & Lily college AU one shot inspired by “Maroon.” Hope you enjoy!! :) You can also read it on AO3.

She can’t quite believe that they’re here, right now, sitting on the common room floor of her dorm together, her feet in his lap, laughing like they’re the best of friends after some stupid joke James told. Lily can feel Sirius’s eyes on them, and she knows he knows more, but she acts oblivious.

Marlene returns to telling her story, as Remus, Mary, and Peter continue to listen with rapt attentiveness, but she doesn’t hear a thing. James’s fingertips are resting feather-light on her knee, and every time they twitch she holds her breath. She takes a sip of Sirius’s cheap rosé and focuses on the taste. James’s finger lightly circles her knee. She glares at him but he’s not looking at her, he’s watching Marlene talk. He does this thing with his nails and looks at her quickly in his periphery, a small smirk on his stupidly handsome face. Lily feels the tension and warmth building within her, unsure what to do. She feels like she needs to remove herself from the situation before she gives herself away.

She moves her legs off of James and his smirk turns into a frown. He looks at her questioningly. She shakes her head and says, “Just need to get up for a sec.”

“Let me help you,” he offers, leaning over to take her hand, but his other hand slips, and he splashes his red wine right onto Lily’s bright white shirt, turning it maroon.

At first, she feels shocked. Then she feels embarrassed, the blood rushing into her cheeks. She can feel how scarlet her face is.

“Shit, Lily, I’m so, so, sorry. I didn’t mean to-“

“It’s okay,” she assures him, standing up on her own. “I’ll just go in my room and change.”

She avoids his gaze as she goes into the room and shuts the door behind her. She takes off her shirt and groans, throwing it on the floor. She goes into her drawer and takes out a dark blue shirt and puts that on instead. She sits on her bed, allowing herself a reprieve.

A moment later, she hears a knock on the door.

He doesn’t have to say it, because she knows it’s him, but he does. “Hey, it’s James. Can I come in?”

Their friends all “oooooh” in the background and she rolls her eyes.

“Yeah,” she calls out. He comes in, gives the finger to their friends, then closes the door.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hi,” she responds, not looking at him.

He steps forward, moving closer to her. “I’m really sorry about that, Lily. It was an accident.”

Lily finally looks up at him. “Are you sure it wasn’t a ploy just to get my shirt off?”

He grins at that. “Wasn’t my intention, but desirable outcomes happen when we least expect them.”

She shakes her head. “Come here.”

He obliges and sits next to her.

“Do you know what you were doing to me out there?”

“Should I?”

“The way you were touching my knee…it was driving me mad.”

“I didn’t realize I was having that effect on you.”

“You never do.”

He smiles brightly at that, facing her and putting a hand at her side, grazing her shirt gently. “Am I too late for the unintentional desirable outcome, or can we rewind a bit?”

“Please rewind,” she whispers.

James promptly lifts Lily’s shirt up over her head and discards it onto the floor. He looks her over once, smiles even wider, then without wasting another moment, he kisses her.

Her fingers quickly make their way into his hair, moving through his scalp with ease. His tongue enters her mouth and she moans, letting herself lose control as she climbs onto his lap. His hands move under her skirt and to her ass, grabbing it gently, and as he sighs in her mouth, his grip becomes more firm.

James moves his mouth to Lily’s chest and kisses her there. As Lily closes her eyes and revels in it, she feels James chuckle against her.

“What?” She asks, confused.

He looks up at her grinning. “I can taste the wine that I splashed on you on your skin.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“You’re very welcome.” And he returns to work.

Lily sighs contently. “Can we kick them out of here?”

James’s mouth makes its way up to her throat. He mumbles against her, “I thought we were keeping this thing private.”

“I think me allowing you into my bedroom while I’m changing is us failing at keeping it private.”

“At least the door is closed,” he responds. He kisses her gently along her collarbone, then stops and kisses her hard, breathing her in like her skin is his oxygen.

“James.”

“Mhm.”

“What is ‘this thing’ anyway?”

He lifts his head, his spectacles blurred but his eyes dazzling through. “‘This thing’ is us, isn’t it?”

“Us in what context? Snogging buddies? Best mates?”

James laughs. “Is this the time you want to have this conversation?”

She nods, feeling emboldened by the alcohol and impatient by her heart.

He puts his hands on her face. “Well, I’ve been the one borderline begging to be in a relationship with you all semester. You said you wanted to take things slow. I’ve just been waiting for your timeline to meet up with mine.”

“Oh. Right,” she replies, as if she momentarily forgot that to be the circumstances. She was the one who wanted to take things slow. But now it felt like slow was letting precious time slip away, time that she so desperately wanted, needed, with him. “Well, that was quite stupid of me, wasn’t it?”

“You? Stupid? Never,” he laughs, moving a thread of hair behind her ear and kissing her forehead.

She melts into him, putting her face on his shoulder as he wraps his arms around her in a hug. “I don’t want slow anymore, James. I want now. With you. Together.”

At her words, he holds her tighter, and she feels so full of warmth and affection she might burst as he says, “That’s all I’ve ever wanted to hear, Lily.”

She kisses his neck lightly, and he adjusts his hold to move her face back towards his own, and his mouth presses against hers earnestly. After a few minutes of kissing passionately, Lily pulls away at the sound of the group laughing in the common area. “Let’s actually kick them out.”

“Are you sure?”

“I want to do things to you that I don’t want them to hear.”

James shivers at that, kisses her one more time, then removes her from his lap. “I’ll tell them.”

Lily laughs, picking her shirt up from the floor and throwing it back on. “We can do it together.”

James opens the door to an intense card game happening around the coffee table. At first they don’t look up, but then Remus spots them. “Welcome back,” Remus says.

“Yeah, actually, we need all of you to leave,” James blurts out.

They all look up at him.

“Me too? I live here!” Marlene objects.

“You can stay in your room, Marls,” Lily assures her.

“If you dare,” James adds.

Sirius locks eyes with Lily, then his gaze drops to her collarbone. He laughs. “Didn’t make enough marks on her in the twenty minutes you were in there?”

Lily looks down at her collarbone and sees the hickey. Part of her feels embarrassed, the other part of her laughs. “Clearly not.”

Sirius goes to high-five James, but he swats his hand away. “Get out of here.”

“Alright, alright,” Sirius gives in, backing away. “Ok, folks, let’s bring this party to our dorm instead. Peter, pick up the cards. Remus, take the alcohol. James, I better not see you back home tonight.”

“You won’t,” Lily answers for him. Peter’s jaw drops, Remus laughs quietly, Mary giggles with glee and Marlene physically blanches.

“Your boldness is scaring me. I’ll sleep in James’s room tonight,” Marlene concedes, following the rest of the group out. When she closes the door behind her, they hear her say, “I can’t tell if I’m more excited or disgusted.”

“I think we’re all feeling that combination,” says Sirius, his voice fading as they walk down the hallway.

And before Lily can even think, James is grabbing her, kissing her, picking her up into the air. These kisses are different than before; they taste like glory. She wraps her legs around his waist and he carries them back into the bedroom, kicking the door closed behind him.

Some time later, tangled up in Lily’s sheets, she rests her head on his chest, breathing out deeply, content. James has his arms around her securely, kissing the top of her head. “How do you feel?” He asks.

“Spectacular,” she responds honestly.

He chuckles, pleased with himself. “Well, I guess my work here is done, see you never, Lily-“

She playfully smacks his chest. “That’d be quite the legacy to leave.”

“Quite,” he echoes, lifting her chin up with his finger and smiling at her, his lips red from all the work he’s been doing. She kisses them again, and he responds with such gentleness she feels her eyes well up.

“Hey,” she whispers against him.

“Mhm.”

“Thanks for splashing your wine on me.”

“I’ll do it again, any time.”

#james potter #lily evans #lily potter #hp #harry potter #au #college au #sirius black #remus lupin #Mary MacDonald #marlene mckinnon #peter pettigrew #lily evans potter #fanfic #fan ficton #oneshot

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annas-hair-donut · 5 months

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For the WIP ask game: And If I Changed my Mind

I'm so glad you asked about that one! It's probably what I'm most excited to work on.

Fandom: Frozen, BATB Ships: Kristanna, Ryder/Belle, Anna/Mattias, background Elsamaren, Adam/Gaston, maybe some others Rating: M/E (this snippet is rated T)

It's a long fic (maybe 15-20 chapters or so, at least for now). And it's set in my Bandana AU (Future's So Bright, Rain Check, Here Comes the Sun). Basically, Anna has just divorced Hans and is starting over, living with her sister Elsa, her wife Mare, and their (mostly grown) kids Ryder and Olaf, and also grieving for her daughter Samantha, who passed away as a baby. KB and Anna previously hooked up right after the divorce without really knowing each other, but Anna decides she needs to be on her own for a while before she jumps into any kind of relationship. So this is the story that picks up after their hook-ups until they finally get together. Oh, also, KB hires Anna to be his office manager. It's a slow-burn friends-to-lovers fic.

Along the way, Anna will date Destin Mattias. And there's a side plot where Ryder has a huge crush (does Ryder have any other kind????) on fellow mechanic/Anna's best friend Belle. So it's a bit of a BATB crossover, too. And yes, I'm finally writing Rydelle! You might be skeptical now, but if you read my fic you will walk away a Rydelle believer.

Here's a little snippet (a little more than a snippet) if you want a taste:

Anna would have changed out of her hot pink dress before going in to work, but she got lost on her way from the graveyard, as she always did. She thought about calling KB to ask for directions, but she knew she could figure it out on her own. But once she meandered her way onto the highway - after about an hour of trying to figure out where her GPS was taking her - she spent the rest of the drive wondering why she didn’t even think of calling anyone else.

By the time she got back into town she was already an hour late for work, which meant she was going to have to call KB anyway.

She always thought he was going to be upset with her whenever she was late, but he never was. Not once. He wasn’t ever anything but nice to her.

Once she got to KB’s Auto Shop, she flipped down her visor to make sure she looked decent. It was sprinkling earlier, and she was sure her hair, which Elsa had tediously styled that morning, was nothing less than a frightful mess. And then some, she realized.

Then she saw wearing KB’s bandana tied around her wrist. She would have been mortified if he found out she used it as a security blanket. So she stuffed it into her purse, reapplied her lipstick - the tube was hot pink to match her dress, but the color was a lot less subtle - and headed into work.

Her dress kept riding up, so she pulled at the hem of the A-line skater skirt that hit mid-thigh when she got to the door, then picked at the form-fitting lycra waist, though neither helped. She meant to buy a new one for the occasion, but she was still trying to build up her savings and couldn’t justify spending the money. She didn’t think Samantha would mind that it was a little tighter now, but her dress was a little less forgiving. She didn’t expect to be wearing it to work, though.

KB was talking to a customer when she walked it, and didn’t even seem to notice her slip in, which is what she was hoping for, but then he looked up from the clipboard he was tapping his pen against and stopped talking.

The customer looked behind them, but Anna looked away and pretended not to notice.

But she pulled down her skirt again, then she smoothed her hair back even though she knew it wouldn’t help.

“Hey,” KB said, completely ignoring his customer. “How did it go?”

“It was nice,” she said with a smile she couldn’t help. “The butterflies were out.”

He smiled at her again, and she got the feeling he was trying not to look below her neck. “That’s nice. I’m glad it went well. But I’m also glad you’re back.”

She tucked her hair behind her ear again, though it didn’t stay. Then she scooted past him, and he had to back away to give her enough room to pass.

She felt his eyes follow her as she rounded the counter, and she didn’t look up until she flipped her hair from underneath the sweater that was fortunately draped around the back of her chair, and the thought KB’s head turned away.

“I’m sorry. What was I saying?” he asked the customer.

Anna looked in his direction again as she piled her hair into a bun at the top of her head, and KB looked away again.

The customer laughed and said, “Thanks, Kris. ‘Preciate you.”

KB walked back to the register, still smiling, to show Anna the new inventory he needed her to catalogue when she blurted it out, “I didn’t have time to change.”

“Wait, what?”

“I know this dress isn’t exactly appropriate for work, and it’s too tight, but I got lost and I was already late and I would have been at least another 30 minutes late if I went home to change.”

KB shrugged, “I already told you it’s not a big deal. But maybe a phone call with a heads up next time?”

Anna’s shoulders shrank and she said, “I’m sorry.”

He put his hands on his hips and squinted at her like he does when he’s stumped with a car problem, and she was sure he was wondering the same thing she was: why she couldn’t just call him?

“It’s fine, Anna. Really. No harm done.”

She didn't have an answer for him, though. “I guess it's just one of those days.”

His smile was sweet, but he was silent.

“And my hair is… Elsa actually styled it this morning and it looked so nice!”

KB’s smile widened, and his eyes crinkled.

“She’s going to be so disappointed.”

“Probably,” KB said with a slight smile.

Anna snorted and KB laughed with her.

“If it helps, I kind of like it.” He moved some some stray hairs out of her face and tried to push it back but it fell forward again.

She piled it onto the top of her head in a messy bun and batted her eyelids in an obviously playful way. “There!”

“Looks great!” he teased and she swatted at his shoulder.

He caught her hand and held it while they stared at each other for a long moment. She knew he was feeling her ring finger to see how much the skin had flattened there. It had been several months since he’d last checked, but the evidence she’d been married before still hadn’t disappeared. And no matter how much she wanted him, she still wasn’t ready.

“Sorry, I should-”

He snapped his hand away and rubbed the back of his neck. “Right, um, no, sorry, I-”

His hands weren’t nearly as greasy as they would be by the end of the day, but Anna always had tissues nearby in case she needed them. She didn’t want to give him any false hope, but she also didn’t want him to feel awkward. He had become one of her closest friends and a knot tightened in her stomach at the thought of losing him.

“Are you still coming tonight?”

“Yup!” he said quickly, and Anna thought she detected relief in his exhale. “Come on, I wouldn’t miss your daughter’s birthday dinner. Is there anything I can bring?”

Just your handsome self, she almost said.

“Maybe you can bring some beer? Elsa and Mare don’t have good taste like us.”

“Done!” he said on his way to check on the outside bays.

Just because they were friends now, didn’t mean she couldn’t watch his ass walk away. But he turned when he got to the door and Anna pretended she was typing something.

She took one more glance because she couldn’t get enough of his ass in jeans - she couldn’t get enough of it without jeans, either! He stopped so she looked up and he was smiling.

So much for not leading him on!

#frozen #frozen fanfic #kristanna #kristanna fanfic #tag game #wip game #and if i change my mind #here comes the sun #rain check #future's so bright

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codybennett535 · 1 year

Text

Oola x Luke AU story idea (Version 2)

NOTE: I decided to write a second version of my story idea. This version is more faithful to the film version of Oola but she still survives & develops a close relationship with Luke. Today was another miserable day for Jabba's prized Twi'lek dancer Oola. She sat on his large throne, looking down at the floor. Thinking upon how she arrived here at the palace a year ago. She was the daughter of a high ranking chieftain back home on Ryloth. Even among her kind she was considered to be the most beautiful twi'lek to ever grace the planet. Her light green olive skin was truly something to behold. Oola at a young age began to practicing the art of dancing. It was always her dream to become a great dancer & perform in front of a crowd of thousands. She always felt so more free when she danced. Granted the dream she had would most likely never happen due her life circumstances. It was the night she performed a ritual dance for her clans guest; Bib Fortuna. He claimed to be the emissary of a wealthy nobleman called Jabba. Fortuna said that Jabba was a handsome individual who loved twi'lek culture & more importantly skillful twi'lek dancers. After seeing Oola's ritual dance he offers to take Oola to Jabba's Palace on Tatooine, where she would be his honored guest & the opportunity to be his prized dancer. For Oola this was amazing! The opportunity to finally lead a good life off Ryloth and to be the honored guest of this 'handsome' Jabba. Perhaps after performing for him he would adore her & make her his palace Queen. Perhaps even more. She begged her father to let her go & to chase her dreams while it was still possible for her to do so. He reluctantly agreed to Bib's offer & Oola would leave with him immediately for Tatooine. Oola was so excited! Especially to meet Jabba. When they arrived on Tatooine it wasn't what she expected. The whole planet was one big desert wasteland, not to mention it was owned by the Hutt Cartel. Fortuna first took Oola to another female twi'lek named Madam Garsa Fwip; who owned a cartina resort called the Sanctuary & was once a talented dancer back in her younger days. Fortuna tasked Madam Garsa to training Oola to dance in certain ways that Jabba would like. Oola didn't need much training given her background but proved herself to be extremely talented at the craft of dancing. Garsa congratulated Oola on her extraordinary talent & told Fortuna she was ready for Jabba. After they arrived at the palace Oola immediately knew something wasn't right. Disgusting ugly gamorrean guards quickly grabbed her & dragged her screaming to the main audience chamber. As soon as they entered in they immediately tossed Oola onto the metal grate that was the ground. Suddenly she heard a disturbing laugh that sounded too loud & booming to be a human. She looked up & saw a disgusting fat slug creature that was no doubt a Hutt. He stared at her with bright orange eyes with black slits. He licked the air with his horrible smiley tongue. Bib Fortuna stood right beside him smiling "Jabba meet Oola. The extremely talented twi'lek dancer from Ryloth I've told you about. I hope she impresses you. For her sake." Jabba laughed even more speaking in huttese "Hahaha! We'll see. I want to see her dance. I want to see her head-tails flying from side to side like the coming wind. Her body to move with the music fast. If she proves herself worthy and I will spare her life. If she fails then I shall take sweet pleasure in watching her die screaming. And poor Pateesa has been starving lately. I have no doubt her beautiful green flesh would taste sweet. Tell her!" Bib Fortuna translated for him "You will now dance for your new Master; Jabba The Hutt & if you value your pathetic life you will dance well. If you impress your Master well enough you will be his prized palace dancer & will sit along side him as his favorite. If you displease him then you shall pay with your life & be delivered to something far more horrific than your pretty little mind could imagine. Do you understand my dear?" Oola suddenly heard a deep growl coming from below her. Something was beneath her. Something monstrous. The very thing that would take her life if she failed. She looked back up & quickly nodded in fear. Fortuna was pleased that she understood. "Begin!" The band members that resided in the audience chamber began playing a instrumental version of the song Lapti Nek. Oola picked up on her cues quickly & got into the rhythm of the dance. Twirling her body left & right. As she continued the dance many of Jabba's guests (fellow scoundrels & criminals) began watching Oola. Becoming excited as she continued to move around the throne room. Kicking her legs up high for all to see. Demonstrating that she was not a common twi'lek dancer you would find in the slums of Coruscant. She began to sweat heavily as she continued to move under the chamber light. However it wasn't simply just heat but also fear. Fear of what would happen if she completed this dance. If she failed she would suffer a horrible fate & die. If she was successful she would be a slave to Jabba. Dancing for his pleasure over & over again. Granted at least she'll get to live. But to live as a slave is almost worse. As she continued on several beats she could tell that the song was coming to an end & with the last note she finished the performance off with a low kneel. She heard the crowd going wild with loud hoots of appreciation & clapping the dancer on a performance well done. Suddenly Jabba's voice bellowed "Bring her to me!" Fortuna came up from behind her, placing his filthy claws against Oola's back. Pressing her forward towards Jabba. Jabba grabbed a hold of her with stubby slimy fingers. Examining her once more, knowing it made her feel scared not knowing his verdict of her. "You danced well…slave." Jabba laughed with sadistic joy "We have a new dancer & now you belong to me till the day your life ends. Make no mistake lovely Oola…you will learn to appreciate me." Jabba then licked Oola's face with his filthy long tongue much to her disgust. "Oh yes…you will be my favorite." Soon after Bib Fortuna had picked out a rather revealing dancing attire for Oola. It was a black fishnet body stocking that left very little to the imagination concerning her breasts & hips. Along with a black leather thong concealing her pelvis area. Tight strapped sandals on her feet, along with a annoying head-dress she was forced to wear. The cones on it covered her twi'lek ears which bothered her. However the worst of it was the steel slave collar she was forced to wear. She couldn't stand it. After everything she ended up a slave, wearing very little to nothing. Fortuna connected a leash made of knotted leather to the collar & led her back to Jabba who took possession of the leash along with Oola. For the past year Oola had danced for Jabba's amusement, cleaning his filthy obese body & on rare days had to pleasure him by allowing him to touch her green skin. He would often lick her & drool over her like she was a prepared meal. She hated every minute of it but more importantly she hated him. Whenever she saw him eat one of his paddy frogs she hoped he would choke to death on it. It would be a fitting end for a monster like him but the universe apparently wasn't so kind anymore. Men like Jabba reigned untouched while innocent people such as Oola suffered greatly. All for his enjoyment. She became a star attraction at the palace. Many of Jabba's patrons would come to watch her dance. Granted like Jabba they watched her with lustful eyes & thirsty mouths. No sympathy at all for the girl's poor situation or the fact she was a slave. All they cared about was her body moving fast to the music beat. She even overheard some of them betting on her life. "She won't last much longer. Sooner or later she'll displease him somehow & we'll finally get some REAL entertainment. I bet she'll die screaming in the pit." "I mean yeah she's pretty & all but at the end of the day slaves are replaceable. Even twi'leks like her." "She might dance well for a slave but Jabba will tire of her eventually. And then the Rancor will receive a nice tasty twi'lek snack." Hearing such things made her soul break. She meant nothing to these hive of scoundrels. Just a dancer whose life depended on the quality of her performance & if her 'Master' was satisfied with it. She once witnessed Jabba execute a man who was caught stealing credits from his vault. The Hutt activated the trap door which dropped the man into the pit. Everyone gathered around to watch. She caught someone saying "I wish it was the twi'lek getting it but this will do!" The man stood in the pit, afraid of what was to come. Begging for his life in huttese. Hoping that Jabba would spare him. But Jabba never spared thieves. The massive steel gate began to activate & rise up. Revealing the hideous Rancor that lived on the other side. Oola's eyes widened at the sight of it. It was larger than a bantha! It's skin dark brown but scaly like a reptile. It's clawed hands long enough that they could probably tear down the chamber grate. And it's rows of teeth were razor sharp. Oola knew the man had no chance of survival. The Rancor roared loudly & quickly grabbed it's screaming prey. Forcing the man into it's large jaws & devoured him. " Oola turned her face away in disgust when she heard his bones crunch. Jabba then grabbed her by her cheeks, forcing her to witness the rest. "You will do well to obey me lovely Oola. It would be such a shame to see someone as beautiful as you end up in the jaws of the Rancor. But make no mistake my dear, if you become more trouble than you're worth I will enjoy watching Pateesa feast upon your bones." Jabba said giving Oola a lick on her lekku, making her skin crawl with revulsion. Several days later the palace received two visitors who were droids: C-3PO & R2-D2. Who claimed that they had a message from Luke Skywalker; the great Jedi Knight who was battling against the Empire & a member of the Rebel Alliance. Oola had heard many stories about him, so much so that she developed a crush on the young Jedi. Luke via hologram offered Jabba a deal; bargaining for the release of his friend Captain Han Solo. A former smuggler who worked for Jabba but failed him once too many times. Now he was frozen in carbonite & used as decoration for Jabba's throne room. Sometimes Oola thought it looked worse than being dead. Skywalker was hoping they could come to an understanding otherwise "unpleasant confrontation" would take place. As a token of his appreciation he even offered the service of his droids to Jabba. Oola knew tho what his answer would be. Ultimately Jabba declared that there would be no bargain & that Solo was now his property. Much like Oola was. Later that evening Oola was performing another dance for Jabba's court. The music playing was the vocal version of Lapti Nek, performed by Sy Snootles & her band mates Max Rebo & Droopy McCool. Tonight Oola kept her mind off Jabba & thought about the handsome Jedi Knight she saw on the hologram. His handsome facial features, his soothing voice. Oola would be lying if she said she wasn't infatuated with him. Especially the stories others told of his bravery against the evils of the galaxy. Perhaps when he comes here he'll rescue her as well. Yes, her freedom would be restored & she could finally be away from this planet, away from Jabba. Oola's daydreaming got her into such a mood that she began dancing the best performance of her life. She moved her body fast with such grace & elegance, that some of the crowd members wondered if it was a really twi'lek dancing or a divine goddess in disguise. Jabba himself became insanely lustful after watching her perform her greatest dance yet. So much so that he began to pull Oola's leash hard! Wanting her to pleasure him again. Oola however refused to endure such treatment again. Not tonight. She just needed to dance. Oola spoke in huttese "Please I just wanna dance!" Jabba spoke back "Come to me my lovely pet!" Oola responded "I don't want to pleasure you!" Jabba roared "I said come here now!" He pulled the leash even harder dragging Oola forward till her feet were above the trap door that led to the Rancor Pit. Oola begged once more, not realizing how close to death's door she really was. "Master please stop!" Jabba at this point finally had enough. She would pay with her life for this insolence. Before he had a chance to hit the trap door button a loud blaster bolt was heard throughout the palace. Everyone was startled by it, including Oola. Who was quickly pulled to the throne by Jabba, laying against his filthy obese body, in fear of the palace's unwelcome guest. After one of the palace guards had been tossed aside trying to stop the intruder, from the dark corridor came a masked bounty hunter calling himself Boushh. With him was his wookie prisoner; Chewbacca. Captain Solo's first mate & friend. Boushh was trying to negotiate the price of the wookie. Saying he would only agree to 50,000. No less. When C-3PO translated the price for Jabba he became enraged. Demanding why he must pay 50,000 for a bounty that was originally 25,000. Boushh's response was pulling out a thermal detonator. Threatening to kill everyone in the room. Everyone panicked, including Oola whose heart was beating with fear. However Jabba simply laughed with amusement. Rather than being intimidated by Boushh's negotiation tactic, he was impressed. Liking his style. He agreed to pay him only 35,000. Boushh accepted the amount & deactivated the detonator. The wookie was quickly taken away to the dungeons by gamorrean guards. The party was soon back in swing, in celebration of Chewbacca's capture. Jabba demanded that Oola go back to performing & that she must dance twice as hard as punishment for disobeying him earlier. Oola reluctantly got up from the stone dias & began doing another dance that lasted for almost an hour before retiring for the rest of the night. She was beyond exhausted. At least he didn't cast her into the pit. Later that night it was revealed that the bounty hunter Boushh was actually the Princess of Alderaan; Leia Organa. One of the key leaders of the Rebel Alliance & Captain Solo's lover. Turns out while everyone was asleep, she freed Solo from his carbonite prison. She attempted to smuggle both of them out but they were quickly caught by Jabba & his forces. He suspected immediately that there was something not right about the bounty hunter & his instincts proved him right. Solo was soon taken away to the dungeons, after failing to make a deal for his release. After Leia was captured by Jabba, he considered making her into a slave at first but decides that interrogation & imprisonment might prove more useful. Not to mention how much the Empire is willing to pay for her. Later that evening Luke arrives at the palace, Oola sees him come in into the audience chamber and tries to speak "It's you isn't it? You're him! You'e Luke Skywalk.." Jabba yanks her chain, silencing her. This bothers Luke greatly, seeing a young girl being enslaved & abused by slime such as Jabba. After trying to bargain with Jabba Luke says "Nevertheless, I'm taking Captain Solo, his friends & her as well. As far as I'm concerned slavery is something that should have ended on this planet a long time ago. You can either profit by this or be destroyed. It's your choice, but I warn you not to underestimate my powers." Jabba was becoming more angry minute by minute. Oola then noticed that Luke was standing on the trap door that led to the pit. "Skywalker you're standing on the.." Before she could finish her sentence Jabba yanked her chain again, proclaiming that there would be no bargain. Soon Jabba activates the trap door Luke is standing on that leads to the pit dungeon. Luke drops down below along with a gamorrean guard who grabbed him. After they both land in the pit, Oola watches in terror as Jabba's pet Rancor is unleashed upon them. She whined in disgust when she saw the gamorrean guard get eaten. But became frightened for Luke when the Rancor turned its attention to him. However Luke battled the Rancor in the pit, amazing Oola regarding his bravery towards the beast. Eventually when Luke was cornered, he grabbed a humanoid skull & threw it at the button on the wall which resulted in the pit gate coming down on the Rancor's head, killing it. Oola was beyond astounded. He had killed the Rancor! She cheered for him which resulted in Jabba pulling her leash even harder. He was very upset that his favorite pet beast had died. Jabba sentences Luke, Han, Leia & Chewbacca to death by having them delivered to the Sarlacc Pit, where they will digested for a thousand years. The next day Jabba travels the Dune Sea in his sail barge to the Sarlacc Pit. Bringing with him Oola, C-3PO & R2-D2. They soon arrive to the pit and Luke gives him one last chance to free them or die. Jabba of course doesn't listen & orders for them to be executed. Luke gives the signal to R2-D2 to launch his lightsaber. He grabs it & begins fighting back against Jabba's forces, along with his friends (including Lando who was disguised as a palace guard) Oola watches in amazement realizing that Luke Skywalker is an actual Jedi & that Jabba is powerless against him. Oola was now inspired. She was ready to fight back against her oppressor. To rebel! She immediately grabbed a statuette & used it to smash the control panel which threw the observation deck into darkness. Jabba was scared & confused, as he should be. Suddenly Oola wrapped her leash around Jabba's bulbous neck & began to tightly strangle him. She pulled harder, remembering all the terrible things he had done to her. Pulling even harder, for every time he hurt her, starved her, had her beaten & violated her for his perverse pleasure. And now he would die by the very distasteful object he had forced her to wear around her neck for a year. Jabba roared with rage, realizing he would die at the hands of a slave. With one last tight pull...Jabba was dead. It was finally done. Oola had avenged herself. R2-D2 soon cut Oola's leash off & she immediately made her way up to the deck where Luke instructed her to get the barge gun & point it at the deck (which in turn would cause the sail barge to explode once fired) Oola hangs on to Luke as he swings them both over the the skiff controlled by his friends, soon collecting the droids & leave as the sail barge explodes into flames. Oola thanks & hugs Luke for rescuing her as he leaves for Dagobah to visit Master one last time. Meanwhile Oola is taken back to Home One, where she gets some fresh new clothes. Later during the mission briefing for Endor, she willingly volunteers to join the rebels when they go to the Endor planet (wanting to make a difference in the galaxy) Suddenly Luke comes in & Oola is excited to see him as he is to see her. The two talk about how differently their lives changed in the past few years (Luke once a farm boy now a rebel Jedi knight fighting for the galaxy's freedom & Oola once a chieftain's daughter on Ryloth & a slave girl, is now a rebel fighter seeking the same freedom) Oola tells Luke that he means much to the galaxy & to her. While she was enslaved at Jabba's Palace she had almost no hope, but then she heard the stories about Luke Skywalker; a simple farm boy from the same planet who fought against the Empire & became a Jedi. Something Oola thought was only a myth. But he was no myth. He was real & perhaps her freedom could be too. This lifted her spirits so much so that she performed her best dances (thinking about Luke Skywalker) Luke after hearing this becomes very emotionally attached to Oola. The two soon share a deep passionate kiss but have to break away for the mission. Unknown to Luke, Palpatine can feel the intense connection forming between Luke & Oola and has a plan to use it for his goal to turn Luke to the darkside. Oola's team on Endor soon get ambushed by a Death Trooper squad who kill everyone else except her. She's soon transported back to the Death Star. Later Luke is taken there too, after surrendering himself to Vader (in hopes to turn his father back to the light side) Palpatine tells Luke that his father can't be saved & that the shield generator location being leaked was his plan & that the whole mission was a trap set by Palpatine himself. The Emperor then signals the guards to bring out Oola (who is now bound in cuffslinks) and is forced to sit below Palpatine (like a slave again) He knows how much Luke cares for her already & how far he'll go to protect her. He tells him how Oola will be his personal slave & how she will serve him greatly. This causes Luke to strike but Vader protects his master. During the battle Vader tells Luke that he can't be saved from the darkside & that the only way to save Oola is to embrace it. Vader begins to slowly force choke Oola, in hopes of making Luke give in to hatred & fear. This causes Luke to go dark, screaming "LEAVE HER ALONE!!!" He attacks Vader violently, cutting off his cybernetic hand. Palpatine tells him to finish Vader off & take his father's place by the Emperor's side. Oola fearing what Luke is turning into tells him "Luke...No. No. Don't become him. Not after everything you've done for me. For them! For the entire galaxy. Not you" Luke after hearing Oola's pleas looks at his own robotic hand & realizes Oola is right. This is not the Jedi way. Luke refuses to kill his father or turn to the darkside. proclaiming himself a Jedi just like his father. Palpatine realizing he's failed, begins attacking Luke with his force lightning and does the same to Oola when she tries to intervene. As Vader watches his son & his son's friend slowly dying he turns back to the light & kills the Emperor. Luke & Oola carry Vader back to the shuttle till he demands that Luke removes his mask, so he can look upon his son's face with his own eyes. Luke takes it off and the two stare at each other. Vader tells them both to go, saying that Luke already saved him & that he was right about him. Vader/Anakin soon dies & Luke grieves with Oola who hugs him tightly. Together they fly away from the Death Star just as the rebels led by Lando, blow it up as the shield gets taken down on Endor thanks to Solo, Leia, Chewbacca & the Ewoks. Back on Endor Luke gives his father a jedi funeral via fire pyre. Wondering if he could have saved him. Oola holds his hand tightly watching the flames. Meanwhile our heroes are having a full celebration with the Ewoks regarding the fall of the Empire & the return of the Republic as well as the Jedi. Luke sees the force ghosts of Obi-Wan, Master Yoda & his father Anakin Skywalker, smiling knowingly at him. During the party, Oola decides to perform the best dance of her life for Luke (With the Ewoks playing music & her wearing a ceremonial dress that they gave to her) after completing her amazing performance, Luke & Oola hold each other & kiss one last time. THE END...possibly. NOTE: This is simply a blueprint for a fanfic idea. Feel free to be inspired to use or write your version of these events & may the Force be with you.

#Oola #luke skywalker #starwars #return of the jedi #star wars au #alternate universe #twilek #femi taylor #mark hamill #starwarsfan #starwarsfandom #star wars community #star wars fanfiction #character ships #starwarfans

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the-girl-in-the-box · 2 years

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One Swallow Can Make A Summer I

A/N: Hello! Thank you so much for deciding to check out this story :) I couldn't shake this idea when I was watching the show, and having finished it now months ago, I've finally gotten around to writing and posting this first chapter! I'm so excited to finally be sharing it, and I do hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing it! Please be advised that this chapter does contain canon-typical references to a suicide and circumstances around said suicide, as well as a brief discussion of PTSD.

Summary: The world is at war, and none will be left unchanged in its wake. Downton Abbey is now a convalescent home where wounded officers are sent to recover, and Sergeant Thomas Barrow couldn’t be more satisfied with his position in running it. But with the arrival of a kind new maid, the downstairs dynamic shifts, and Thomas finds himself in the middle of a strange situation, which only grows stranger as the war goes on. With the answers he seeks hidden in the Abbey’s past, inaccessible to Thomas alone, and danger lurking around any corner, he’ll have to learn to trust his instincts and his allies before it’s too late.

Masterlist

Long days weren’t uncommon for Thomas, but in the face of a war, and God knows how many injured men above his head, they had a tendency to feel a bit longer. Being in charge of the military operations in the house did provide him the luxury of his own office downstairs- sort of, it was a space they’d converted for him- for which he was grateful, especially in these moments. It provided him at least a moment to just lean back in his chair and shut his eyes, breathe a bit before he’d inevitably be called up to be productive again.

He was interrupted from one of these moments by his door opening, and he quickly sat up straight to see who was stepping into his office without even knocking. To his surprise, it was a girl he’d never seen before, dressed as a maid, but with an entirely unfamiliar face to him. She blinked a few times, as if she’d expected him not to be in there, and if not for the linens she carried- which did go in the closet in his office- he would have been suspicious of her motives.

What he was suspicious of, however, was the fact he’d never seen her before. With red curls pinned up in a perfect bun, and bright green eyes, she had a rather distinct look, one he didn’t think anyone would really forget. Thomas decided he’d have to keep an eye out- a girl like her could cause trouble, even if she didn’t mean to. He could still remember the fuss he and William had made over Daisy- and that was with him not even really being interested in her like that.

She looked at him with wide eyes, and began to apologize. “I’m sorry to bother you; you’ve normally gone up at this time, I didn’t think you’d be in.”

Thomas looked her over once again, and gave a brief nod. “I’ll be heading up soon,” he told her. “Go on with it.”

The maid smiled at him and gave a polite nod, before slipping into his office and opening his closet door. She made quick work of putting the linens away, almost unnervingly silent, and Thomas found himself watching her movements. He leaned back in his seat, narrowing his eyes just a bit. “When did you get here?” he asked.

Without stopping, she answered him, “About a week ago.”

“Then why haven’t I seen you around?” he questioned. That didn’t make sense- even if their paths simply didn’t cross all that often, there were meals every day which all the staff took together. So where was she?

“I’ve only ever seen you at meals,” she pointed out. “But we sit on the same side, and you only ever pay attention to the other end, where Mr. Carson sits.”

Thomas frowned. Had he really been that blind to those who sat at the table? He supposed if she stayed quiet and out of the way enough, he really might not have noticed her just yet. He felt a bit odd for that, considering they’d lived under the same roof for a week and he hadn’t once made note of her presence. He needed to start paying better attention to his surroundings.

“I’ll keep an eye out for you,” he promised. To anyone else in the house who knew him, that would be easily recognizable as a threat, but it was impossible to tell how this woman took it.

In fact, it was her reply of, “See that you do,” which threw Thomas the most, and by the time she had gone, it occurred to him that he hadn’t even gotten her name. What a strange woman she was, indeed.

At breakfast the next morning, he was surprised to see the typical order of things undone as she ousted O’Brien from her usual seat by arriving first and taking it for herself, putting her more in Thomas’s line of sight. He lifted a brow at this, and she simply smiled at him. That was unexpected.

Clearly, Thomas wasn’t the only one surprised, as when Carson came in and they all stood, he noticed immediately. “Sylvia?” he questioned. So that’s her name, Thomas thought. “Why have you changed your seat?”

Sylvia looked up at Carson with a polite smile, but one Thomas could read as easily more placating than real. It was a far cry from how she’d smiled at him in his office the night before. “I’m a fairly social person, Mr. Carson,” she replied in a tone which told Thomas she didn’t like to explain her every action. “I wanted to be more a part of the conversation.”

Carson hummed, and did seem placated at the least, though Sylvia seemed still a bit put off as she poured her tea into her cup, and topped it off with a small bit of milk. She stirred it slowly, then sat the spoon to the side. Very methodical, very specific in her movements. Thomas couldn’t help but approve.

“So… where are you from?” Anna asked the newest hire.

She looked up at the blonde and smiled at her. “London,” she answered easily. “I thought a change of pace might be nice- it’s all so loud and busy there. I like country houses far better.”

“It’s certainly a different way of life,” Anna agreed. “But if you find it more pleasant, you’ve come to the right place.”

“Until some high up comes to visit,” O’Brien grumbled, and Thomas lifted a brow as he glanced over to her. “Or until they get the mind to turn the house into a hospital.”

“Actually, I think that was a lovely idea,” Sylvia cut in. “Physical survival’s only half the battle, isn’t it? There’s a lot of recovery in the mind and heart after the ordeal they’ll all have been through. Providing them with a place to recover is good.”

“You sound like Lady Sybil,” Thomas commented, drawing everyone’s attention. It wasn’t always a common thing, to hear him speak up without something nasty to say. “She used to talk about that down at the hospital, after we lost one of the officers to the… more psychological side of his injuries.”

Sylvia frowned a little, her eyes growing sad as she pieced things together. “It’s my belief that the mind can grow sick just as easy as the body,” she said. “And the battle can be lost with any illness. I just hope he found peace.”

Thomas found himself struck by her words, and he looked at her with slightly narrowed eyes as he took out a cigarette and lit it. What a strange woman she was, to cut straight into the true heart of the matter so quickly, and so unashamedly in front of some who might prefer to pretend the mind was an impenetrable fortress which could fight all things.

“We won’t ever know, I don’t suppose,” he said. “But I do agree- I think we’ll see less of that now.”

Sylvia smiled at him softly and nodded. “I certainly hope so.”

Thomas nodded slowly, and smoked as the conversation drifted away, Sylvia falling in easily with Anna. She seemed like a nice enough person, nice enough that, in any other version of events, he might have tried to be her friend. But he didn’t really make friends, did he? Not to mention that if she’d been there a week already, she’d have been warned off him by now.

Sometimes, he wished he could start over. If he’d not been so nasty before, or quite so cruel, he’d have more allies in the house, if not more friends. As it stood, he really only had O’Brien, who he supposed would count as something in the middle. As for actual friends? He didn’t have any of those, and why should he?

That wasn’t true. Lady Sybil was as good as a friend at times, even if they couldn’t be too close because of their stature in life, and there’d been Edward. I just hope he found peace, Sylvia had said of him. She must have been kind, more than just nice, or maybe she was just good. Lady Sybil would have agreed with that, and he liked to think Edward himself would have appreciated the sentiment- God knows he deserved to have that peace.

There’d been something haunted in his eyes, Thomas remembered, even if he couldn’t see any longer. He had been afraid of being pushed out of the hospital before he was ready, and he wasn’t ready. If they’d just had this convalescent thing going already, they could have moved him here, and maybe he’d still be…

Don’t go there, he reminded himself. You can’t change the past. Don’t make yourself miserable thinking about it. It was unfortunately too late, and he put out his cigarette as though it had offended him somehow, then walked out of the room. They’d get suspicious if they knew just how affected he was by Edward’s death.

Thomas stopped by the foot of the stairs, leaning back against the wall and letting his head drop back as his eyes slipped shut. He could just hear Sylvia asking after him, grand exit as he’d made. It made his brows crease together as he listened a little closer, trying to make out what was being said of him.

“Should someone be sure he’s alright?” Sylvia had asked. How thoughtful of her.

“Thomas can be a bit… moody sometimes,” he heard Anna reply. “You’d probably be best served keeping him rather at arm’s length.” There it was.

There was silence for a few moments before he heard Sylvia’s answer. “I don’t think so,” she said. He could just imagine how O’Brien would be perking up and listening in so she could tell him what was said. “He’s close to the situation upstairs right now. I can’t imagine it’s easy for him to talk about.”

Silence again. This silence hung as they presumably ate after she’d made her point. Was it difficult for them, he wondered, to be reminded he was human too? To be reminded he had a heart too? That he could feel things, too? He decided not to stand around and hear the rest.

Thomas opened the door at the top of the stairs to go and see what needed doing when he almost walked right into Lady Sybil- or rather, Nurse Crawley, given the uniform she wore now, reminding him she was on duty.

“Oh, Sergeant Barrow,” she said with a startled laugh. “I’m sorry, I didn’t expect you to be coming up so early. Only, I needed to collect some water.” Sure enough, she was carrying an empty bowl, with a washcloth laying over the edge. It occurred to him this was the second time he had been noticed out of his routine. Was he really such a creature of habit that it was immediately obvious when he changed things up?

He offered her a tight smile and replied, “Thought I’d get an early start.” She lifted a brow at him, and rested the bowl against her hip.

“No, you didn’t,” she said. “What is it?”

Thomas blinked a few times at that. “I’m sorry?” he asked, confused.

“I can tell something’s bothering you,” she explained. “Won’t you tell me?”

His smile loosened a little with a sort of disbelief, and he shook his head. “Why do you think something’s bothering me?” he questioned instead of answering her.

Nurse Crawley sighed, levelling him with an understanding gaze. He sort of hated it when she did that, but he sort of loved it, too. It was rare that someone gave him that look. “You make this expression,” she began to say. “You’re smiling as if everything’s alright, but it quite doesn’t reach your eyes- and your eyes themselves look pained.” She paused and sighed, shifting slightly on her feet. “Thomas, I wish you would talk to me.”

Well… that was rather difficult to argue with, but… “I don’t want to take up your time when you’re trying to work,” he tried, his smile once again shifting- this time into something which seemed more genuine than the last- but his brows creased together and there was no happiness in his face. After all, as much as Thomas had long wished for someone just to care, Lady Sybil Crawley- on duty as a nurse or not- was hardly the most appropriate person to let care.

“I got an early start.”

Seeing that she wouldn’t be swayed, Thomas sighed. “You remember Lieutenant Courtenay?” he asked. She nodded. Thomas swallowed and looked around, shaking his head a little. “He should have been here. If we’d pushed for it a few days earlier…”

“Oh, Thomas…” Sybil said gently. She stepped forward and rested a hand on his arm, holding her bowl balanced against her hip. “It wouldn’t have changed anything. It took longer than that just to be approved, he still would have been slated for Farley Hall, and nothing would have changed… We did everything we could do.” He nodded a little, but- as much as he’d hate to admit it- wasn’t very convincing at all in his agreement. “I mean it,” she pressed. “Please, believe me.”

“I do,” he replied with a more subtle nod this time. “It’s just hard. He should be here.”

“He should be,” Sybil agreed. “I’m sorry he’s not. I know you miss him.”

Thomas looked up at her, swallowing hard once again, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat. He couldn’t cry here, not around her- not around anyone, really, but certainly not Lady Sybil. So, instead of really answering her, he simply said, “I should let you get back to work.”

If she noticed the thickness in his voice, she didn’t mention it, opting instead to squeeze his arm gently and offer him a kind smile. “If you ever want to talk, please come find me,” she told him. “I’ll always be ready and willing to listen.”

Thomas smiled tightly and gave her one last nod before she dropped her hand and walked away, heading on downstairs to fill her bowl, he imagined.

Lady Sybil was an exceedingly good woman, Thomas thought as he went on about his business. If not for the fact the war would end one day, and they’d again be separated by their status, he thought he’d have really tried to make a friend in her. But as it was, there wasn’t really room in his life for someone like her, anyway. People like Sybil were a lot like Anna in a way- very good, yes, but incorruptible.

He had O’Brien, of course, but as corruptible as she was- and probably had been for him, though he didn’t often think about that angle- she wasn’t very nice. If he hadn’t just almost spilled his heart’s contents to Sybil, he might argue that he didn’t need someone who was actually nice to him. Then again, that didn’t mean he couldn’t wish for it.

But luck was with Thomas, for once, though he wasn’t aware of it just yet, as nice and good were two very different things, and what he needed was someone between the two- if only he could figure out where to look for someone like that.

Thomas shook all those things out of his mind as he started into the first of the larger rooms which had been commandeered for housing so he could see where he was needed. That could sort itself out when- or if- the time came. For now, he had work to do, and another long day began.

Taglist: @butwhyhavethey, @marxin-grilli

If you want to be added to the taglist, feel free to reach out either by commenting, reblogging, DMing me, or sending an ask, and I’ll be more than happy to add you!

#thomas barrow #thomas barrow & oc #downton abbey #one swallow can make a summer #chapter one #robert james collier #tw: suicide mention

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raevaltera · 1 year

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The Eagle and The Hummingbird

My grandfather passed away last night as he was on his way back home with my mom. I don't have a lot of ways to deal with my grief so I wanted to write something for him. In a lot of ways, I hope this story is true, to some extent.

It wasn't the sound of cracking bone, his sternum once again broken, or the blood no longer rushing in his ears that scared him. It wasn't the soft words of the fireman's counts or the deep breaths before he pushed air into his lifeless body.

It was the sound of someone else that made him terrified to leave this life. Silently watching, heart breaking. In those last moments he wondered if she cried. His always strong daughter so very much like her mother. He hoped she didn't.

He wouldn't have the time to find out as the world faded from this harsh reality and all was silent.

Death hadn't been painful. Shocking but not painful. But when he opened his eyes, he realized that life was the painful part. Death was glorious.

He soared in the azure sky, with it's white puffy clouds so close he could almost touch them. His wings were strong, powerful, holding him aloft as his eyes, razor sharp and completely focused, scanned the ground and the skies. Wind whipped around him and he used it to remain in the air, needing to reserve his strength. He had someone to find.

With a cry, he dove. He shoved his powerful wings back, becoming a missile streamlined towards a flowering meadow. The petals were bright orange, yellow and white, mixed in a vibrant swirl of color. But he wasn't looking for those.

He took off once again, towards the skies. And so his search continued.

As he soared through the sky, he thought about his life. It was not one always filled with happiness and laughter. He had made some mistakes, especially early on but he raised four beautiful children with his wife.

Until.

Her death was unexpected, expected and unusually cruel. A mere fifty-eight when the cancer would take her. By the time she was diagnosed, it was already too late. So it was him, his four children and their children.

Then, his only son---

He let out an eagle's cry.

The devastating loss of his son was almost to much to bear even now in the skies of the afterlife.

Time, however, trudged along. He had a heart attack, a billion pills to take, no salt, no soda.

Then the surgery, bypass, for a nearly clogged artery. Another heart problem, another set of pills and doctors and places that weren't home.

He had survived that but he would never make it home.

He was supposed to make it home, for Thanksgiving. To see his grandkids, to hear his daughter laugh and chastise him.

A deep sorrow embedded in his soul, the eagle slowly descending in his melancholy.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight in perfect clarity of a hummingbird. She was emerald green, bright, with a flash of purple on her chest and her eyes were glaring at him.

She darted at him, her tiny bill pecking his head before she swiftly moved away from him. He screeched dodging to the side. She tried again, and he avoided her attack.

He dove quickly, the small little bird following his trail. With a burst of his wings, he landed on the branch of a a tree. She flitted between the leaves, bounding from branch to branch. Her small head cocked from side to side, judging him.

He made a soft noise in his strange new throat. He loved her still. After all this time, he still loved her. And there she was. In her small hummingbird body, as fierce as she was in life, willing to kick his ass for leaving the world behind. But she was here. And the call of her had always been a hard thing to forget. Even when they tried to medicate it away. He knew she'd been waiting for him, patiently but waiting none the less.

He opened one wing, like he did with his arm when they were alive, just enough space to tuck her in safely. She looked at it, puffed up her chest, proud and annoyed. But it didn't last for more than a moment before her feathers smoothed out. She hopped onto the branch where he perched, and scooted into his larger warm body. He closed his wing over her, so she was safe and sound, against him.

His wife buried into his side and he realized he had made it home after all.

#How do you tag something like this?#death #grief #afterlife #shortfic #I miss you both

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wanderdrops · 27 days

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ALL OF US LOST ~ [DOTAE FIC]

Fic very inspired in the movie All of us strangers. Doyoung is a young writer who has been gaining recognition lately with his sad personal stories. With this, he decides to move to a new building, becoming the first to inhabit it. The second to move in is Lee Taeyong, a music producer and writer who has a somewhat messy life and heart due to a past love. Doyoung doesn't want to get to know him, but Taeyong insists on entering his life. How many times will each of them open the door?

We are all newcomers at some point.

His mother always told him, "Take care of yourself more than anyone else."

Doyoung didn't know if that phrase was true or not, but he did know that those words, repeated countless times throughout his life, stuck to his mind like gum under a desk.

He didn't tend to have friends because of it. At least not "real" ones. He barely let his older brother get close to him and only dared to listen to his stories and escapades with some girls and some bars. No reflection or comment overflowing with intimacy came from Doyoung. Only smiles—genuine, in any case; laughter, if necessary.

One could say, then, that he grew up distrusting, and ended up distrustful. Fearful. He didn't want to feel what it would be like to be neglected by someone.

At 27, Doyoung didn't have close friends, or at least he wouldn't call them that. Jaehyun was the one he talked to the most. Music, movies, anything superficial that didn't speak of him. Haechan sought advice: his life seemed more troubled than ever; Jungwoo talked about his various partners, Mark talked about his eternal infatuation.

Similarly, amid all the curiosity that the mystery surrounding his life could provide, Doyoung ended up being very good company. He listened like no one else ever would.

Perhaps for all those same reasons, he found himself so comfortable with the idea of moving to a new building. His latest book had been a success, and now the publishing house had partnered with a production company for him to focus on writing scripts. He could assure himself with the idea of buying an apartment, and so he did.

Itaewon. Bright, spacious, new, clean. Above all else: empty. Not a soul inhabited that building. Or at least that's how it seemed when he met his real estate agent at the entrance of the reception.

"Excited?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Few units in the building have been sold, so maybe you'll be the first to occupy it."

That idea excited him. The solitude. He preferred being surrounded by several walls with just his music and his thoughts. His ideas and fantasies. No one to pretend to be okay with or how he felt. Requesting the keys at night made it an even more permanent sensation.

"You could surely impress some girl with this place," said the real estate agent. Her gaze was inquisitive regarding his love life: he had already told her he was single. "A girl would be enchanted by this view."

Doyoung only feigned a laugh. "A girl?" he thought. "We all know that's impossible."

The real estate agent spoke to him as if he hadn't seen the building plans. While it was true he had never been in the physical location of his new apartment, he already knew what he had bought. Nevertheless, he didn't expect what he was going to see after the real estate agent opened his door.

Upon entering the apartment—which was already furnished—he realized he could see all of Seoul. Warm and cold lights vying for dominance over the city. Some colors flashing from side to side. A deceptive silence that only the night could grant.

"Wow, it's... it's truly incredible," Doyoung exclaimed. He hadn't even been aware of when he approached the window to gaze at the city as if he were floating... Yes, that's how it felt. Floating above Itaewon. Floating above everyone.

Silence. Doyoung couldn't continue. He didn't want to soak his thoughts with someone who would only see this once. He picked up the large backpack he had brought with him and positioned it neatly on the couch. He had been so absorbed that he had even thrown the backpack on the floor.

"It's very beautiful," Doyoung finally said. "Thank you for trusting me."

A bow, a few smiles, and a reminder of when he needed to contact his bank to consolidate the periodicity of his payments to the real estate agent. That was all before she left.

Doyoung walked through the apartment in silence. He enjoyed the sound his steps could make. He enjoyed how the windows isolated the noise. He enjoyed what was now going to be his life.

A strange but familiar sense of bitterness engulfed him, embracing him physically. Doyoung hugged his own arms and let out what would be a deep sigh.

There, in that moment as he looked lost at the city skyline, he remembered. He simply bit his tongue as his chest soured like ink on water.

A rumble from his stomach was what snapped him out of his bubble. He looked at his abdomen, then towards the streets. He approached the window once more, searching for any open food joints on the street below, and when his smile of satisfaction at finding his new destination had surfaced, a pang stabbed at the pit of his stomach.

With furrowed brows and pursed lips, he observed: blonde hair, not too tall, slender. A suitcase in his hands, a neon green hoodie, and loose black pants. A guy had gotten out of a taxi with a suitcase and was heading straight towards the entrance of his building.

On the way, the blonde guy looked up towards Doyoung, who quickly stepped away from his large window.

"Damn it..."

Doyoung didn't know why he felt so uncomfortable. Over the next few weeks, he would encounter people every day, and he knew that. It wasn't going to be awkward. So why was it now?

Perhaps he just felt like his fantasy of chosen solitude had been interrupted. His bubble-shaped building had been popped with a loud "plop."

Doyoung glanced at his watch and calculated that if he left now, it would be impossible for them to meet in the elevator. He would be going up, Doyoung would be going down.

So he approached to fetch his black hoodie, removed his contact lenses to put on his glasses, and left alone with just his wallet.

Walking down the hallway, he saw the number of his floor in metal embedded in the wall: 11. He knew the building had 25 floors and wondered where the guy who had entered a few minutes ago would live.

Waiting for the elevator, Doyoung checked his phone. He had a message from Jungwoo in the group where Haechan, Mark, and Jaehyun were also present. The four of them were friends from school.

"Hyung, send pictures of your new apartment."

He had completely forgotten to do that. So absorbed in the beauty that he took no pictures. So absorbed in his thoughts that he didn't even notice when the elevator had opened.

It was the sound of the elevator doors about to close that snapped him out of his bubble.

"Are you getting in?"

It was the blonde guy he had seen from his window. He was holding open the elevator door.

Doyoung was frozen as he looked at him. Beyond his mesmerizing beauty, what caught him off guard was the smile on his lips.

A genuine smile for him.

"Yeah... sorry..."

Doyoung entered the elevator somewhat clumsily, which wasn't very spacious. He avoided looking at him even though he felt his eyes on him. He pretended to look at his phone even though he felt rude. And without saying anything, they both exited the elevator.

What made Doyoung uncomfortable was that both were walking in the same direction, almost side by side. When they turned the corner, the blonde guy laughed.

"Let me guess: your apartment also has a northeast view."

Doyoung raised his gaze and saw his eyes. The contact made him tuck his hands into the pockets of his hoodie.

"Yeah... They say it's the best direction."

"I was told the same thing! Before, mine faced north and had the sun all day long," replied the blonde guy with an enthusiasm that surprised Doyoung.

"Of course... First day in a new apartment. Who wouldn't be happy like that?"

But Doyoung wasn't. At least he felt somewhat peaceful, but the situation didn't give him enough reason to be happily chatting with strangers.

Still, he did.

"Awful. I used to live in my old house, the sun was on me all day," Doyoung replied with what would be a small smile on his lips.

And that threw him off. What was he doing talking to someone who didn't even know his name?

"Taeyong," the blonde guy said. "Lee Taeyong."

His name. Almost as if he had read his thoughts. Taeyong. It rhymed well with his face that seemed sculpted.

"Dongyoung... Or Doyoung..." Only his friends called him that. Why was he talking so much?

"Doyoung suits you much better. No offense, though."

Taeyong had stopped in front of a bar with a few people inside. It was Tuesday, anyway. Doyoung stopped with him and looked into his eyes. He could see how Taeyong examined him from head to toe.

"Beer? My treat."

Doyoung felt something he hadn't felt in a while. A mix of fear and a kind of excitement. That's why he couldn't help but respond with a desire to run away.

Still, he didn't.

"No, no. I have to work tomorrow... it's late and besides... I haven't eaten anything. That's actually why I came, to get food."

Taeyong seemed disappointed with pursed lips, hands in his pockets, and a head movement that seemed very cool to Doyoung.

"Another time then."

Taeyong gave him a smile and turned on his heels to enter the bar.

Doyoung sighed deeply, and without further ado, he went to buy food where he had seen from his window. Unconsciously, he noticed that he had passed a couple of places while walking with Taeyong, so with some embarrassment, he had to turn back.

Back in his apartment, Doyoung ate a small but expensive Teokbokki at what would be his new desk. The computer was open, and a new project in Writerduet showed the beginning of a new script, which this time, would indeed see the light.

"EXT. DOYOUNG'S HOUSE. DAY

DOYOUNG (27) was..."

The doorbell rings.

Doyoung immediately turns to look at the door of the room, which is now his office.

Someone knocks on the door.

Quickly, without pulling down the hoodie from his head, he goes to open the door.

"Doyoung-ah!"

Taeyong. He had a beer in one hand and a whiskey bottle in the other. He looked drunk. Doyoung just squeezed the hand holding the door and, even though everything was in his favor to close it, he leaned softly against it to look at Taeyong and understand what he needed.

He couldn't resist, and he wasn't aware of it.

#hi everyone! first time writing dotae #hope someone reads this and like this #i'll be updating soon!#dotae fanfic #taedo fanfic #kim doyoung #lee taeyong #nct 127 fanfic #this is a slowburn btw #nct 127 #doyoung #taeyong #nct doyoung #nct taeyong #nct #dotae domestic #dotae #taedo #dotae angst

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shield-maiden-of-sherwood · 1 year

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A Dream Deferred - A Short Story

Summary:

A chorus of crickets fills the night air as Abby trudges through her New York apartment. Little does she know that a fateful encounter with Pete, an aspiring actor, will challenge her pessimistic view of the world and open her up to something new. Yet when success follows Pete, Abby's envy threatens to destroy what could have been. A story of envy, fragility, and hope, this tale will leave readers wanting more.

Part 1 - Not Ideal

The subway rattles and clangs as it speeds down the rail. The sickly fluorescent lighting hurts my already tired eyes, but I continue looking down at my phone anyway as my music plays in my earbuds.

It wasn't exactly ideal given that my head hurt as though somebody had hit me with a sledgehammer, but what are you gonna do? You make do. At 5 AM, I was on my way home from yet another late shift at the Old Tar Bar where I worked as a bartender. Another situation that wasn't ideal. I had no idea why the place was called "Old Tar" and quite honestly, I didn't care to find out. It was only a necessary evil. Bartending at night gave me the freedom during the day to work on my life's work. Like many of my fellow delusional creatives, when I had money, I packed up my stuff and moved across the country, leaving the comfort, or I guess lack thereof, of my home in Colorado for the bright lights and dirty streets of New York in hopes of making a name for myself as a writer.

Listen, I wasn't entirely delusional. I wasn't expecting to become an instant success or anything. I know better. But did I want to strike it big like Stephen King and write something so good that it was made into movies or a tv show? Of course. Did I think I would become famous and rich beyond my wildest dreams? Probably not but you can bet your ass I would try.

Like the others, when I first arrived in New York, I found the cheapest studio apartment I could find. It wasn't easy and, if I'm quite honest, I'm not even sure how I found the antique building tucked away behind some Russian deli place that always reeked of salami. It wasn't the most glamorous place but I knew that this was the way to do it; Pay my dues and all that shit. Apparently, this place was practically a right of passage for new transients looking to make it big as each apartment was filled with some other young, and some not-so-young, hopefuls.

Each floor has about twelve inhabitants, with six on either side of the ancient stairwell separating them, and a bathroom on either side, with each side sharing one bathroom. Each floor, I found, contains different types of hopefuls. On my floor, there are two musicians, three actors, one makeup artist, and another writer. My side of the floor consists only of an annoying actor by the name of Pete and the makeup artist, Yuri. Yuri isn't too bad. Like the rest of us, she holds down a daytime job while honing her craft after work, and taking up random gigs on her weekends to gain experience. She works at some big-name makeup store, giving makeovers to tweens and Karens, but I can't remember which one.

Shortly after I had moved in, we ran into each other in the cramped mailroom on the ground floor at the entrance. I was struggling to open my mailbox with the shitty key the landlord had left in a stained envelope tucked under my apartment door. She came over and showed me the stupid little key jiggle I had to do to get the key to cooperate. Long story short, we got to talking and she invited me over for coffee.

Our other neighbor, Pete, was a bit more of a nuisance with his frequent visitors occupying our only bathroom every morning, usually hungover. It was usually this time I would be impatiently waiting outside the bathroom door with my toiletries, anxiously glancing at the time on my phone while he would saunter out of his apartment, hair askew and wearing nothing but some worn plaid boxers and a lazily tied bathrobe, as he went to check the mail. He'd return as his guest exited the bathroom, clutching her various items to her chest as she muttered an apology before scuttling past me. They never returned to his apartment, as he would head back inside and shut the door behind him with little regard for anybody else. When Pete wasn't out auditioning for various minor roles or out prowling the night clubs for new "talent" (as he so charmingly referred to them), he was a waiter. He wasn't a good one, however. By the time I moved into the building, he had already been fired six times from various restaurants across the city. How he kept getting hired was beyond me.

The rocking of the subway makes my eyelids feel heavy, but I try my best to remain awake. Though I am the only one in the car, I have learned early on that it is always wise to stay awake, especially when traveling alone. You never know when somebody else might suddenly appear and catch you unawares. That has happened once, but I don't care to talk about it, and we'll leave it at that – just don't.

Luckily, we slow as we reach my stop. With a sigh, I rise from my seat and wait as the doors slide open before making my way back up to the surface. I am lucky, I guess. The subway station is a block away from my building, which is good since my legs are killing me, as they always do when I stand around for hours on end, listening to the drunken mumbles and stories of regrets and lost loves that frequently come with a couple of drinks in a dimly lit bar.

The door to the building, a thick, antique-looking thing, creaks loudly as the old hinges protest. During my short walk from the subway, I think about checking my mail, but my body seems to be on autopilot as I trudge past the wall of mailboxes and up the stairs. Like the others on my floor, my apartment is very modest with a large, single room. As it's just me, I don't have any issues with it. In fact, I think it's easier since everything is close by. My full-sized bed, which I got from a Facebook marketplace ad for a cheap twenty dollars, sits against one wall, opposite my small kitchenette. In between the kitchen and what I guess you could call my "bedroom" is a threadbare sofa that I found on the curb the day I moved in. It served as my bed for the first month, but after waking up sore and feeling bruised every day, I paid the twenty and got some sheets and blankets from a nearby secondhand shop. It's not much, but it's home.

I once read that "inconsistency is a writer's greatest enemy". They explained to me that, like for athletes, the brain was a muscle, and like with any muscle, it needed to be worked otherwise it would atrophy. Because of this, every night, no matter how tired I was when I got home, I brewed some coffee, sat on my couch, and wrote as much as I could before I was no longer able to keep my eyes open. With money being tight, I couldn't afford a TV. At least, not if I wanted to be able to eat. I tried to tell myself that it would only be a distraction anyways.

When I left Colorado, I had been living with my mother recently. She had a habit of disappearing for days, sometimes weeks or months, leaving me to my own devices. Most of the time she'd be out with one of her poor choices of men, but she somehow convinced them to pay for our streaming services even though she was never home to watch them. I guess she figured that if she was going to be absent, I should at least have something to entertain me. She didn't count on not paying her electric bill and rendering the service basically useless. Once the electricity was shut off, I gathered the little money I had saved from my old part-time job after school and occasional babysitting gigs, then I quickly left. Now, I have only my writing and streaming platform on my phone to entertain me.

As I climb the stairs, I'm so exhausted that I don't even notice the light above flickering as it usually does. It's that type of tiredness where nothing seems real and time seems to stand still. This time, as I trudge through the door to my half-empty apartment, I don't even bother taking my earbuds out of my ears before flopping face down onto my bed, and I pass out immediately. So much for exercising my brain.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

#short story #creative writing #a dream deferred #Ana Hawke #hurt/comfort #enemies to friends trope #original story #fiction #enemies to lovers #enemies to friends to lovers

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dailyangelrant · 2 years

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Life update

I've stopped posting here. I think about needing to do it all the time and I just never do. I need to. I always feel less stressed when I just rant and get it out there. I think what partially made me stop writing here was the fact that I started posting my daily pictures on Instagram. I think I just keep track of my life that way now, but this is way more specific. I can actually record my thoughts here.

College has been sort of rough for me. It's honestly just exhausting. My classes expect a lot of readings which isn't fun at times. I have my psychology exam tomorrow so that should be interesting. On the bright side, I got a 95% on my first college paper that I wrote for my sociology class. I didn't see any feedback so I'm not entirely sure where I lost the point at.

I've been hanging out with a few friends on the weekend but nothing crazy. We'll drink and have a good time and it's always been in my dorm building. I think thats the best part about living here. There are only 45 people who live in my building and we're all pretty close so it makes things fun and I can easily get back to my room after a late night.

I'm honestly procrastinating for studying for one of my exams right now. I know I need to do it but I don't want to by any means.

Also, work is good. I thought that my bosses didn't like me but they were complimenting me the other day and I don't really feel like that anymore. I get paid decent so hopefully things continue to go well.

I can't believe I haven't mentioned this yet but I don't really feel good and I skipped one of my classes today and my boss told me to go home. I went to go take a COVID test, but it was at an asymptomatic location and I don't think I'm going to get results back very soon. Although, I don't think its COVID because it's mostly a stomach ache and not really any symptoms related to COVID. I'll let you know.

I also bought all of my flights to go home. I go back in a month for my fall break. I go back exactly a month after that for my thanksgiving break, and then about a month after that for my 3-week long winter break. I'm really excited. I'm also staying with Baz for my fall and thanksgiving breaks.

Also also, I got a new phone. There's a whole story attached to that that I'll need to share another time. I think I'm going to go call Baz now.

#daily life #diary #journaling #tumblr diary #dear diary #journal #my diary #diary entry #journal entry #college life #college #university #Washington dc

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sprinklesofktrash · 2 years

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Let’s play a little game -n.jaemin

Pairings: CEO! Jaemin x Fem reader

Warnings: Cussing, fingering, teasing, sex, cum on the face, sex, penetrating sex, nsfw, moaning, dom! Jaemin, sub! Reader, reader getting head, kissing, the whole dirty shit.

Word Counts: 6.3k

Summary: As a journalist, you’re always driving for a juicy article. When a new girl entered your company, she started to take your place. Heated by that, you became an intern at a successful company run by a younger CEO. Jaemin, a young and hot CEO, built his empire in started with Cologne. His company became one of the largest cologne companies in the world. When you became his intern, something drew him closer to you. He didn’t know what your intentions were, but he knew he wanted you.

A/N: To the person who gave me the sweetest compliment, this one’s for you.

As a journalist, your company always wants the juiciest stories to publish. It’s what makes the company so successful. You, who’s their number 1 writer always write about celebrities, millionaires, public figures' juiciest drama. You always want the first scoop of everything. Which you earn the best spot in the company.

Although, that was a year ago. Now, you haven’t published any articles which are making your boss angry. “If I don’t get a juicy article from you by the end of this month, you’re fired” He slams the tablet on your table, showing the new girl’s article. Which was trending right now.

You turn your chair around and glare at the new girl. Everyone’s praising her. Lately, she’s been publishing a lot of articles that always turn out cool and true but you have no idea how is she able to find it out. You storm your way into the break room and make yourself some company.

The door opened but you paid no attention to it. “Good morning” that familiar annoying high-pitched voice greeted you.

“Morning” you mumbled. Sunny, who entered the company less than 8 months ago has been taking your spotlight from this company. You were number 1 but now she took your spot as number 1.

“Did you read my new article?” She peeps. You move away from her, she’s always been so touchy. She’s young and bright. Everyone in the company praises her because she has an innocent face but you know she’s not that innocent. It’s just a mask, that’s how she gets into people’s good side.

“No” You fake a smile at her.

“I can tell you my secret” She whispered to you. You look at her, she leans into your ear and whispered, “You sleep with the guy, and then they’ll spill stuff.”

You move away, you didn’t expect that to be her secret. She giggles and winks before leaving the break room. You walk back to your desk, exchanging looks with Sunny who sends you a wink. You’re not the type to sleep with anyone, you’re not that desperate.

Days went by, you went through all of your past articles. The last article you had written about was about the young and hot CEO Jaemin. You somehow sink into a deep hole of Jaemin. You knew he’s hot but he’s too secretive, you want to find out more about him.

“I have a new article!” You yelled as you entered your boss’ office. He jumped out of his chair after hearing your voice boom his office.

“That quick?” Your boss, Donghuck fix himself.

“Well, no,” You started as you sat on the chair in front of him. He hisses and went back to his computer. “No listen, you know the new young CEO Jaemin? I sense something about him. He seems too good, I want to find out more.”

Donghyuck blink two times, you kind of convinced him. “You can’t write a story just because you ‘sense’ something” he crosses his arms together.

“I’ll be an intern in his office, I’ll try to dig more information on him. I promise you, I’ll have an article by the end of the month” You beg your boss.

“Fine,” He said. You got excited after he approve of it. “Remember if you have no article, you’re fired. I can’t have anyone here who can’t make a single good article.” He sigh.

“I won’t let you down!” You smile as you left his office.

It was for the first day as an intern in Jaemin’s company. You haven’t seen him yet but everyone seems to be so busy running around. “Since it’s your first day, it’s a bit hectic here. We’re releasing a new fragrance and everyone here is trying to finalize the final product so please, don’t be in their way” Jaemin’s assistant explains.

“Since you’re an intern here, you’ll be working under me. You’re like my assistant,” you nodded as you write down notes as she speaks. “When you see the boss, do not make eye contact and just stay quiet. You’re not working for him, you’re working for me.”

“Here are all the reports of last fall sales. I want you to organize everything from highest sale and from old to new dates. You can do that right?” She looks over to you. You nodded. “Great, this is your desk, don’t disappoint me. You can call me Julia” she looks at you one more time, wondering if you’ll last as her assistant. With that, she left.

You look at the organized desk which is next to Jaemin’s office. You tried to peek through the window but since it’s too high you ended up only seeing the ceiling. As you sat down, you begin to work on the reports.

“Ms. Shin!” You heard a voice inside the office call for the lady who spoke to you earlier. You search around the room to see she was nowhere near. He called for her again but his tone was getting irritated. You bit your lips and decide to go for her instead. You knock on the door and enter the quiet room. As you walk closer to his desk, he was shuffling through papers.

Don’t make eye contact.

It was almost impossible, he was gorgeous. His sun-kissed skin glistens under the sunlight, his cherry-colored lips and how his brown locks perfectly rest over his forehead. “Did you finish the paperwork I had asked for?” He didn’t look at you. His voice was low but very sexy. You didn’t know what to say as you fiddle with your fingers nervously.

Jaemin got irritated since you weren’t responding so he looks up at you, realizing you weren’t his assistant. “Who are you?” His voice sounded demanding. You look at him but quickly look down.

“Y/n, Mr. Na. I am an intern for Ms. Shin” Your voice breaks as his presence was too intimidating. Jaemin smirk when he see how nervous you were. He looks down at your outfit of choice, a tight beige pencil skirt, and a black blouse. Cute.

“I called Ms. Shin, not her intern” He cross his arms, leaning on his chair.

“I-I’m sorry, Mr. Na” you quiver as you squeeze your hands together. It’s your first day and you’re already getting scolded. Jaemin studies you, a smile escaping his lips as he looks over you to see who it was.

“I’m sorry Mr. Na, my intern clearly didn’t understand what I spoke to her about earlier” You felt Ms. Shin glaring hard at you. “Leave” She whispered to you. As you leave his office, Jaemin peeps at your backside.

“It’s okay,” Jaemin smile as he carried on talking to his assistant.

You watch Ms. Shin walk out, you already knew she’s going to scold you. “I told you not to go in! I could’ve gotten in trouble but luckily he wasn’t being too harsh. Don’t do it again!” She scolds. You nodded and apologize.

As the nightfall set, everyone had left the office. You stayed a little late because you were finishing your reports and you were also writing about your encounter with Jaemin. You groan as you close your laptop and rest your head over it. You close your eyes to rest after a long day reading documents.

Jaemin walks out of his office, seeing you sleeping on your desk. He put his hand inside his pocket and walk over to you. He stood behind you and lean into your ear, “Ms. y/n?” his voice woke you up, making you jump from your seat. You look at Jaemin who was watching over you. You quickly stood up and look down at your feet.

“Mr. Na, is there anything I can help you with?” You wipe the corner of your mouth in case you drool. Jaemin looks down at your desk and back at you.

“You’re working late? On your first day?” He asked. You look over at your desk and nodded.

“I was finishing the work Ms. Shin had assigned for me” you respond. Jaemin smirks, he likes how nervous you get around him.

“Look at me” He demand. You blink a few times and slowly move your head up to look at him. He smiles. Pretty. You felt your legs get wobbly. You didn’t expect him to look this good up close.

“Don’t work too late Ms. y/n” He spoke, his voice was so addicting you felt it down your spine. Once he was out of your sight, you sigh and take a seat back on your chair.

The next day, you had arrived a little earlier, despite running on 4 hours of sleep. As you were organizing your desk, You saw Jaemin made his way to his office. You had a bow at him. Before he opens his door, he turns around to look at you. “Did you sleep well intern y/n?” He asked. You look at him but quickly look away. Jaemin chuckle quietly.

“Yes, I did thank you for asking Mr. Na. Did you sleep well too?” you weren’t sure if you can ask him questions but it kind of just slip out.

“Not really, someone kept me up” He smirked, looking down at the necklace you’re wearing. How it’s perfectly showing your collarbones. With that, he went inside.

You quickly pull out your laptop and add another note.

Does he have a lover?

A wife?

A girlfriend?

“Intern y/n!” Jaemin yelled your name. You didn’t wait for a second and entered his office. “Yes, Mr. Na” You respond. He had his back towards you, you peek over to see him take off his suit, his backstretch over the white dress shirt. He turns around, making you look back on your feet.

“Can you make me a cup of coffee?” He asked. You nodded. “Sure Mr. Na” you left his office to the break room. You weren’t sure what he like. Black coffee? Latte? Macchiato? You panic. You brew some coffee and hope for the best. As you panic, you ended up burning your hand with the hot steam from the brewing machine. You hiss and ran to run cold water over it.

As the coffee finished brewing, you added sugar and some milk. You entered his room and set the coffee in front of you. You hid your burned hand with your normal hand. Jaemin looks at the cup of coffee and looks back at you. He took the cup and take a sip of the coffee. He raised an eyebrow and put it back down.

“Is it okay Mr. Na?” You asked nervously. “If not I can make you another one” you quickly add.

“No, it’s perfect. You may go” His voice was soft, unlike yesterday. You bow at him and hurried out the door. The office begins to get packed with workers. Julia soon take a seat on her desk.

“Morning, y/n. Did you finish your report?” She asked. You nodded and handed her the stack of reports you had fixed. She took it and saw your hand. She quickly grabbed your wrist, “what happened?” she asked worriedly, winching at the pain as she look at the wound. You quickly retract your hand and hide it behind you.

“It burned me” you responded. She sucks her teeth. She handed you a medkit. “You have to cover it up. You don’t want the Boss to see it” She said. You nodded. As you apply the ointment, you look over to Julia as you slowly wrap your hand with the cloth.

“Do you know what type of coffee Mr. Na drink?” You asked quietly. She was busy typing on her computer. “He likes black coffee” She answered. You opened your mouth slightly. You gave him a latte.

You left late again, Julia had given you more reports late minute and you know she won’t be happy if you don’t finish it by tomorrow morning. Jaemin steps out of his office, noticing you staying late again. “I’m starting to think you’re staying late for me” Jaemin smirked.

You stood up, “I’m sorry?” You asked. Jaemin chuckle quietly. He saw the reports on your desk and your hand. He didn’t see the cloth this morning. “Is Ms. Shin giving you her work?” Jaemin walks over to your desk. You quickly shook your head no.

“No, Mr. Na” You cover your hand.

“Is your hand okay?” He asked. You made eye contact with him but quickly look away. “I burned it by accident but it’s fine” You chuckle nervously. Jaemin sigh, he assumes you burned it while making your coffee. He walks over behind the desk and gently grabs your wrist. You wince at his action.

“It’ll get infected if you don’t cover it right” His voice was gentle. He sat down, making you sit down in front of him. Jaemin unwraps the cloth, revealing the scab forming. You wince as the cold air hit you burn. You couldn’t look at Jaemin’s eyes as he take the medkit and took out the hydrogen peroxide. He rests your hand on his thigh.

You watch him pour the hydrogen peroxide on a pad. He took your hand and look into your eyes. “This will sting” His words were gentle. You were mesmerized by his eyes. Jaemin cover the burn area with the pad. You whimpered and use your other hand to hold Jaemin’s hand. He didn’t take his eyes off you as he move his hand slowly, patting the pad over your burn. You lick your lips and remove your hand from his.

Jaemin started blowing the area with his mouth, you watch his lips blowing over your burn as the vein on his neck popped. Your eyes wander to his neck, following down to his collarbone that was exposed. You cleared your throat and look away. Jaemin took a clean cloth and wrap it over your burn. Jaemin smiles at you as he finishes.

“T-Thank you Mr. Na” You stutter. Jaemin stand up as you followed him. “I didn’t know you like black coffee, I’ll try to remember it next time” You add. Jaemin chuckle.

“I’m starting to like lattes now” He looks at you one more time. A smile escapes your lips. “Don’t leave late” Jaemin said again as he left you. You look down at your hand which was perfectly wrapped by Jaemin. The sight of you touching his hand kept playing in your head and the way he looks at you. Your cheeks got red so you give it a gentle slap.

“Focus, y/n. You’re not here to fall in love” You told yourself.

A week went by, Julia was coughing nonstop, when you asked her if she was fine her answer is always the same. I’m fine. Jaemin had called her into the office to discuss the upcoming event. You weren’t getting any more scoop, only you know that he has a significant other. You were called by Jaemin shortly after. You weren’t sure why so you went inside.

Julia glared at you. “Intern y/n, unfortunately, Ms. Shin can’t come to tomorrow’s gala in Jeju with me. I’m going to need you to take her spot. I don’t want my business partners to talk about my sick assistant. I need everything to be perfect” Jaemin ordered. You raised your eyebrows, you weren’t sure what to say without making Julia angry.

“Intern y/n?” Jaemin called your name. You look up at him, “Yes Mr. Na. If it’s okay with Ms. Shin -“ He cut you off.

“I’m not asking, I’m telling you” He commanded. You nodded. “Yes, Mr. Na” You respond.

“You both are dismissed” Jaemin dismisses you both. As the two of you step outside, Julia coughs.

“I don’t know why he’s asking you, you’re just an intern” Julia’s hoarse voice spoke. In your head, you’re practically jumping up and down. Going to this gala will give you exclusive stories from all the A-listers.

That night, you had to spend packing your clothes for the weekend. Julia had given you the planner with all Jaemin’s schedule in it. She had second thoughts of letting you go. You promised her that you won’t disappoint, it wasn’t good enough.

As you arrive at Jeju, you tried your best to show Jaemin what you can do. When the car arrive at the hotel, the driver gave you your bag and you went to the receptionist. Jaemin followed behind you. “Hi, I booked two rooms under the name Na” You smile at her. She types something on her computer.

“Two suites?” She asked and you nodded.

“Here’s your keycard, enjoy your stay here” She bow. You head to the elevator with Jaemin beside you. As you enter, you press the number 10.

“How’s your hand?” Jaemin spoke to you for the first time today. You look down at your hand which was fully healed into a scar.

“It’s better now” You smile. The elevator went quiet again. As the elevator opens, you lead Jaemin to his room. You handed him his keycard with two hands.

“I’ll be right across from you,” You told him. Jaemin look at your door and nodded.

Tonight, you have the gala. Luckily, you had an old black dress you wore to your office party last year.

The party starts at 8, it was 6. You had got ready, showering and fixing your hair. You had put your hair up into an elegant bun, with a few strands hanging in front of your face. You took your time to do your makeup, simply a Smokey eye look. As you put on earrings and a necklace, you were ready for your dress. As you take the dress you had streamed earlier.

“What the fuck!?” You yelled, noticing it was a backless dress. You grab the wrong dress. You hit your head with your hand. So stupid. You rummage through your suitcase to see if there’s any other dress you could wear. You only packed one dress and the rest was a skirt and blouses. You could rip your hair out from how frustrating this is.

When you were 18, you decided to be bold and get a big tattoo as your first tattoo. It was a dragon in red ink in the center of your back. It was a trend you wanted to hop on. As you thought the day was going great, you didn’t want to disappoint Jaemin.

You sigh and put the dress on eventually. The dress stops right on your shin, it was a long sleeve. It perfectly shows your collarbone. The back was backless with a rhinestone chain going straight down to the lower part of the dress. You put on your black strappy heels and look at yourself in the mirror. You check the tattoo and rolled your eyes again.

As the time get closer to 8, you met Jaemin outside his room. He’s wearing an all-black suit, his hair perfectly laying on his forehead as a signature look for him. Jaemin had stared at you in the dress, imagine how good your body looks underneath it.

“Hello Mr. Na, shall we get going?” You nervously ask as you avoid letting him see your backside. Jaemin nodded.

As the two of you arrive at the gala, there’s a lot of A-listers socializing with each other. You stick by Jaemin’s side as he was greeted by his partners. “Could you get me a glass of champagne please, intern y/n?” Jaemin whispered in your ear. You nodded as you left his side.

Jaemin watches you leave his side, noticing your back tattoo and how beautiful it was engraved into your back. “Jaemin!” A voice boom as Jaemin looks back to see Renjun, his business partner, and also close friends.

Jaemin eyes left your back as he hugged his friend. “Is that your assistant? From what I can remember, your assistant didn’t look like that before” the both of you look over at you as you ask for two glasses of champagnes.

“She’s an intern, my assistant got sick so I ask her to join me” Jaemin has explained. Renjun nodded as he watches his friend looking at you as you walk back to him.

“Mr. Na” You handed him his drink. Jaemin took the glass and drink the alcohol to calm himself down.

“Hi, I’m Renjun, Jaemin’s close friend” the blonde man spoke as he shake your hand. You smile and bow at him. Renjun notices how Jaemin hasn’t said anything. “I have to say hi to the others, it’s nice meeting you, y/n” Renjun left the two of you.

You look around as you watch everyone socialize. You felt Jaemin's hand rested on your back as he lean in to whisper, “were you born in the year of the dragons?” Jaemin asked. You blush.

“If it’s about the tattoo, I’m so sorry Mr. Na. I grabbed the wrong dress” you defend yourself. Jaemin chuckle.

“No, you look beautiful” Jaemin smile. You practically swoon over him. He called you beautiful and he’s not mad. You thank him.

“What the fuck!” A voice boom to your left. The two of you turn to look at what’s going on. Jaemin’s best friend was being yelled at by an older gentleman. Jaemin went to aid his friend while standing at the spot.

“What’s going on?” Jaemin asks, interrupting the two.

“This guy was hitting on my wife” the older man yelled. Everyone had started to see what’s going on.

“That’s not true, there was something on your wife’s hair so I went to remove it” Renjun defended himself.

The guy looks down at his wife and she shakes her head no. You know when someone is lying. “You’re calling my wife a liar” He yelled louder and swung in to punch Renjun but Jaemin step in to take the punch. You gasp when you saw Jaemin clutching his jaw.

“You asshole!” Renjun hiss, aiding his friend. Renjun went up to the older man and punch him back. The old man security step in to stop the Jaemin and Renjun but it was three against two. You begin to get worried as you watch Jaemin taking punches. Soon, the hotel security came in and push all of them away.

You ran to aid Jaemin. “Mr. Na!” You asked worried as you help him up. Jaemin was breathing heavily in anger as blood drips down from his lips and nose. He look around the room to see everyone had witnessed that. You saw how concerned he looked so you took him outside the room and up to his hotel room.

Jaemin sat on the chair in his hotel room as you went to find a medkit to aid his wounds. Jaemin irritatedly takes out his tie and unbutton his dress shirt. You sigh as you kneel in front of him. Jaemin leans down to make it easier for you to reach.

The room fell silent as Jaemin watches you attend to his wound. You had to pour the hydrogen peroxide on a cotton swab and wipe over his cut lip. Jaemin wince at the pain. “What happens to ‘it’ll stink’” Jaemin chuckle. You smile.

“I thought you can handle it” you chuckle. While you put an ointment, Jaemin study your face. He looks at your lips which were soft and supple. Jaemin finds his hand to your face and tucks the strand of hair behind your ear.

Your cheeks got red, feeling his fingertips touching your face. “Why don’t you look at me?” He asks you softly.

“I was told to never make eye contact with you, Mr. Na” You whispered. Jaemin pulls your chin up to look at him in the eyes.

“I want you to look at me” a subtle smell of liquor from his mouth hit your face as his face was only a few inches away from you.

“Mr. Na” You whispered. Jaemin hush you, “call me Jaemin.”

You swallowed your saliva. As your stomach filled with butterflies.

“Since the day you came into my office, your presence kept lingering on me. I don’t know what it is but it made me feel some type of way” He looks down at your lips.

Move away y/n.

Leave.

Do something!

Your mind was telling you to do something but your body wouldn’t move. It’s like his eye contact made you frozen in your place.

Jaemin lean closer to your ear, “When I see you wearing that sexy dress, I can’t stop my mind from thinking about ripping it apart” he whispered as his breath hit your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

You felt your panties getting soaked just from his voice. You gulped.

“Tell me intern y/n, do I make you wet?” Jaemin whispered. His eyes were full of lust, he wanted you. Jaemin grabs your throat, carefully not to choke you.

“Tell me” He demanded as he pull you closer to him with his hand on your throat.

No.

“Y-yes” you ended up saying. A mischievous smile spread across his face.

“Tell me what you want princess” Jaemin whispered. Your melt at the pet name. Jaemin’s eyes didn’t leave yours at all, he kept his eye contact on you the whole time.

“A-anything” You stutter. Jaemin chuckle. Jaemin look at your supple lips, he ran his finger over your lips as he licks his lips.

“Does my presence make you scared?” Jaemin asks. You shook your head no.

“I was-“ He cuts you off by slamming his lips on yours. You melt into his lips. His tongue slithers inside of yours as you both fight for dominance. You tasted the coppery taste of his cup lip.

He moves away from the kiss, “Tell me you want me” he demands. You look at his neck and down to his chest. You wanted more of him, you needed more of him.

“I-I want more of you Mr. Na” You beg. Jaemin almost hisses when you called him by his first name but he likes it when it’s coming from your mouth. He tugs on your dress, “take this off.” It’s like you’ve been hypnotized by him, everything he says, you do.

You stand up and step back. You unbutton the back of the dress and you slip right out of it. Jaemin licks his lips as he stares at your body. Jaemin’s cock got hard as it was bulging through his pants. Jaemin stands up and removes his tux, including his dress shirt. He made sure his eyes didn’t leave yours. Your eyes wander down to his abs. You didn’t expect him to be this fit. He looks so hot.

Jaemin took off his shoes and unbuckle his belt, taking it out from the loop. “Turn around” he demands. You listen. Jaemin walks over to you, tracing the big dragon tattoo, and makes his way down to your ass. He loves the way the black thong look on you. Jaemin’s breathing got heavy as he lean into your neck.

“You said anything?” He asked. You nodded. Jaemin smirk and put your hands together. Somehow he knew how to turn the belt into a handcuff. He turns you around and leans in for a quick kiss.

“I’ll make you scream my name tonight” He smirked. He taps your lips and then uses his tie to cover your mouth.

Jaemin looks down at your breast and cups the bra with his hands. He unhook that back letting the bra fall on the ground.

Jaemin's large hand begins to massage on your breast as you moan into the tie. “Hmm, you like that princess?” He whispered. You nodded. He leans in to suck on your nipples making your eyes roll back. Another moan escapes your mouth.

Jaemin trails his hands down to your soaking wet panty. “Hmm, this won’t do” He removed the lacy fabric, letting it drop off the ground. Jaemin picks you up and lays you gently on the bed.

He kneels in front of you, unzipping his pants. He removes his brief with his pants. You gasp at how girthy and long his cock way. Jaemin smirk. He spread your legs apart and got in between your thighs. Jaemin kisses your fold and begins to lick your wet cunt. You moan loudly this time, feeling his tongue against your cunt, sending you into a euphoric coma.

Jaemin nibbles on your clit, sending you a wave of orgasm as your back arches. Jaemin smile as he put two fingers into your cunt. Pumping his fingers in and out as he sucks on your cunt. You grip onto the pillow with your hands since it was tied, you can’t do much.

Jaemin stops pumping his fingers and gives you a final suck. He crawl on top of you and you notice your pussy juice was dripping down his chin. “This won’t do” He removed the tie from your mouth. “I want you to scream my name so everyone can hear how nasty you are,” he said seductively. With that, he leans in to kiss your lips. Tasting your pussy juice.

Jaemin rolls the two of you over, so now you’re on top. “Show me what you got” Jaemin breathes as he touches your breast. You spit on your hand and wet Jaemin’s thick cock. Jaemin flinches at your touch. You align your cunt with his cock and slowly take his cock whole.

You and Jaemin exchange moans. “Your tight pussy take my cock so well” He moaned. You begin to ride his cock, making sure he’s enjoying it. You move your arm over his head as you sway your hips back and forth earning a soft moan out of Jaemin’s mouth.

“Fuck, princess” he hisses and he squeezes your ass and thrust into you harder.

“Fuck, Mr. Na. You feel so good” You groan as you lay your head on his chest. With every thrust he put in, his breathing gets heavier.

“Fuck, turn around, I want to see your backside” He demand. You both switch position, Jaemin kneel behind you as you get into the backshots position. Jaemin hand traces along your back and to your ass. He leans in to kiss your tiger stripes. You spread your legs wider as he aligns himself with your folds.

As he slides his cock in, you moan into the mattress. “No princess, I want to see your face,” Jaemin said as you show him your face. As he pick up his pace, felt you're tightening your walls.

“Not yet baby” Jaemin moaned. You nodded. As Jaemin pound every inch of him inside of you, the room filled with wet sounds and your moans.

“Fuck me just like that Mr. Na” You beg. Jaemin turned on, he took your waist and begin to pound harder.

You could feel Jaemin’s cock fitting your stomach with every thrust. Tears escape your eyes from the amount of pleasure he’s giving you. Jaemin slithers his fingers to play with your clit.

“Fuck, Mr. Na you’re going to make me cum” You clench your walls. As you grip the pillow tighter.

“Not yet princess” Jaemin groaned as he stop playing with your clit.

“Fuck, fuck” You exclaim. “I want you to cum on my face” You beg him.

Jaemin nodded and begin to pounce you harder. As he was almost close to cum, you felt his pace was getting sloppier. “I’m going to cum y/n” he moans. He removes himself as you head on the floor, kneeling in front of his cock. Jaemin stroked his cock a few more times, “close your eyes princess” you listen. Jaemin squirted out his load into your face and mouth.

You open your eyes and giggle, swallowing his load, tasting the warm but salty liquid. “Fuck your so hot” Jaemin breathe out tiredly. Jaemin stands up and grabs a rag from the bathroom. He kneels in front of you and wipes his cum off your face.

Once he gets all the cum out from your face, when you open your eyes he was already smiling at you. “Let’s go shower?” He asks. You nodded as he lead you into the bathroom.

Back at Jaemin’s company, you stayed late at the office, mainly trying to make a convincing story about what had happened at the party.

Though, you weren’t sure if you want to write anything about him. You become fond of him. Jaemin was perfect, he’s a great person. You weren’t sure if you want to crush him by publishing this news.

You decided to have a quick break, you decided to head up to the rooftop to get fresh air. As you close your eyes to reminisce the cool air.

You head back down to your desk when you saw Jaemin standing behind your desk. He was carrying pizza in one hand. You smile but you noticed he was reading on your computer. You gasp.

You quickly ran to close your laptop. “J-Jaemin, it’s not what it looks like” you stutter. Jaemin didn’t faze.

“So you came here to spy on me?! So you can write some gossip about me?!” Jaemin’s voice crack at the end. You felt like your heart exploded into millions of pieces.

“J-Jaemin-“ you tried to take his hand but he refused.

“No! You know, everything I had said about you was real. I did like you. Now I know why you came here…” Jaemin took a deep breath and turn around. You felt your eyes getting teared up.

“You’re fired intern y/n, I do not want to see you again. Ever” with that, he left.

Please don’t go.

A week had passed.

The article made headlines. Jaemin became big news at the moment. Your boss was proud of the company.

“Thanks to y/n! Our company is back on track!” Your boss cheered.

You, on the other hand, sitting at home, in the dark, laying on your bed as you watch the moon from afar. You were still hung up on Jaemin. You were blaming yourself.

You didn’t know you were going to end up liking Jaemin. At first, it was a work assignment but the. It blooms into this beautiful office romance.

After Jaemin had confessed that he liked you, it lead you to your boss's office and turned in a resignation letter. You knew you weren’t trying to hurt Jaemin’s future.

Your doorbell ring so you ignored it but it kept ringing. You groan and got up and look through the peephole. Like who comes to your house in the middle of the night?

Jaemin.

You gasp as you straighten your back. You open the door as Jaemin peeps his head to the side. “J-Jaemin, what are you doing here?” You cleared your throat.

“Can I come in?” His voice was soft. He didn’t wear anything fancy, just sweatpants and a sweater. You move to the side to let him in. You quickly turn on the lights so he can have a seat in the living room. Your place was a mess, from all the boxes from your previous workplace, a lot of magazines spread around your place and clothes everywhere.

“I’m sorry, it’s a mess. I was dealing with a crisis” You chuckled nervously as you throw your clothes in your room.

“It’s fine” Jaemin chuckled as he look around.

You sat in the one-seater beside him. “Why were you sitting in the dark?” He asked. You got red.

“I-I was about to sleep” You lied. You were having trouble sleeping lately so you’ve been up all night doing nothing. Jaemin noticed the bags under your eyes.

“How have you been?” He asked, you knew he was having trouble talking after what happened.

This is your chance to tell him!

“Jaemin, I did not publish the article about you. It’s true I went to your company so I can write a story about you but ever since my time at your company, you’ve been good to me. Good. I was having a hard time publishing it. I didn’t want to ruin what we had. So the day after you fired me, I quit my job. But somehow the article was already published, I didn’t know what to do. I tried t-“ Jaemin cut you off by taking your hands in his.

“Y/n, I know,” He said. You raised your eyebrows. “You do?”

He nodded and smile, “I do. Renjun talked to me after it was published. He knows a girl named Sunny at your workplace, she told him that you didn’t want to publish it. Your boss went ahead and published it after he went into your computer and sent himself your paper” he explained. You felt like a weight just lifted from your chest. But you also were hurt that your boss would do something like that.

“I came here to tell you that. I’m sorry I yelled at you. I should’ve let you explain yourself. If I knew you were having a hard time, I wouldn’t yell at you” He squeezes your hands. You felt tears streaming down your face. You were having a hard time and you had no one to help you.

“I’m so sorry Jaemin” You cried. Jaemin pulls you in for a hug. It felt nice to be with him again. It felt nice smelling his scent again and feeling his touch. You hug him tighter.

“It’s okay, just let it out” He caresses your back as you cry into his sweater.

“I’ll be here for you,” He said softly.

“You will?” You asked. Jaemin pulls away and cups your cheeks. He wipes the tears away and pulls in for a soft kiss on your lips. Which he’s been craving.

He pulled away, “I will.”

"Can I ask you who kept you up that night?" You ask him nervously. You had remembered he mention someone kept him up on your second day.

"It was you" He whispered.

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