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oneofmytroubles · 2 years

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Hello and welcome, here is my little essay —

Now having read The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath, I am firmly convinced Esther Greenwood is bisexual and half in love with Doreen.

Sorry I don’t know how to add read more on mobile yet lol ;)

So the case:

Esther loves her personality (and fears it), loves how she smells, looks, and relishes compliments and attention from her. She also is clearly jealous and upset when Doreen gets with a man, in my view. But she just couldn’t realize it, not without despair and loathing for herself and Doreen. At least not so far as we see in the story. I honestly have no idea if Plath intended Esther to be attracted to Doreen in subtext. But she is.

This is about analyzing and reflecting on the story itself, the good and the bad, and it is also an indulgent daydream of “what if” Esther did realize. What if Doreen returned her affection and attraction? What if their relationship, however fractured or flawed, developed? Stayed?

What if Esther had been able to write that letter and posted it to West Virginia… What if they had lived together there… What if she began to write, secluded with Doreen, and by degrees relaxed and learned love?

One thing I would like to recognize upfront is the racism displayed by Esther in The Bell Jar. These are period typical but inexcusable attitudes.

While it is a first person narration and not necessarily reflective of the author’s views, I would not say it was handled well. I have wondered how self aware Sylvia Plath was in writing her that way. She is clearly meant as a sympathetic but very flawed character, mired in a horrible culture and not exactly coping with it let alone challenging it. But are the racist themes introduced completed with care or left to sit unexplored? It’s an open question.

Without question, to a person of color the Esther we meet in the books would be unpleasant to know. Missed that on your reads so far? Try another, looking when and how race comes up. Esther is actually very blatantly racist. I will post quotes and discuss it later but suffice it to say she compares her looks to a Chinese woman, conflating that with being ugly, and she disrespects a Black man who is working at the asylum she is in. This is a bad time for her, when she is also very angry and lashing out in general, but it’s pretty clear the tenor of her mean spirit toward this man is racialized and anti-Black. She does not use slurs however. The racial context is present and to me unmistakable but not direct.

The reason I don’t read Doreen as potentially noticeably mixed race herself, based on her description, is that the Esther as characterized in the novel would comment on it, at least in her internal monologue, unfavorably. Still leaves room for a white-passing-to-Esther mixed race Doreen! And of course anything can happen in a full rewrite.

She is deep in the shit with (internalized?) homophobia and internalized misogyny as well. You may want to read for that too — you hopefully have already read it with a fine toothed comb for sexism if you read it in school, but most teaching materials I’ve seen for it oddly miss most of it and do only a little better discussing mental health. They really should include discussing racial dynamics too, but besides women of color speaking up online, I haven’t seen that so far anywhere. I plan to keep looking. Maybe search academic journals or similar where that analysis hopefully exists.

Beyond any critical reading, I was moved by Esther’s story and by the relationship with Doreen that almost was. I tried to let it go but it keeps coming back to my mind, along with an interest in the submerged history of actual lesbian and bisexual women of the time period The Bell Jar is set in. And of the women of any sexuality tied up in neurotic knots by the double-binding sexism of that fast, and unevenly changing time. Career or wife, life is still shit. Try to do both, get double the shit. Sexual women are sinful, sexless women are frigid, and women with woman lovers like Joan…it doesn’t end well. Among the many experiences left untold by The Bell Jar is that of a woman like Joan who made it, who survived and thrived not because she was better but because she had different chances.

Here and Here are some different versions of the whole book online. It’s not copyrighted.

Here is a beautiful stimboard made for my request on the subject of Esther x Doreen.

Here and Here and Here and Here are blogs celebrating all women and same sex love among women. Please share more with me.

I am also putting 30 of my tags on this post so browse away. xx

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anagentinwriting · 3 years

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Lifeline - Part 18

Summary: (First Responders!AU) Moving to Los Angeles and living with your brother, Thor, was never part of your plan nor was being a 9-1-1 dispatcher, but plans change when you are faced with your own emergencies. In your case, it was leaving behind a relationship that wasn’t as perfect as it seemed. Will this be the fresh start you were hoping for or will your past find a way to catch up with you?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Odinson!Sister Reader

Word Count: 3800+

Warnings: Angst, blood, violence

Lifeline Masterlist / Main Masterlist

After receiving information from dispatch about the location of Billy’s cell phone, Thor called in an anonymous tip to Fury’s team, but instead of waiting around, Nat and Thor pulled onto the interstate, following the cellphone south to San Diego.

Thor stared out the window, resting his elbow on the window railing with his chin in his hand. “I’m sorry, Natasha, for acting like a jerk earlier. I know you were doing your job and following orders. I would’ve done the same.”

“We’ve good,” Nat replied, giving him a once over. “You doing okay?”

“I keep thinking everything will be okay, and everything will work out--” he rubbed his eyes “--but um, I don’t know… I don’t know what we are going to find when we get there? Is she gonna be mad at me, is she going to be hurt, is she gonna be…” Thor took in a sharp breath, clearing his throat. “Billy threatened to kill her once before, you know, and he almost killed Steve. I’m afraid of what we are going to find.”

“Don’t think like that,” Natasha reassured, patting him on the shoulder. “We’ll find her.” She bit her lip, nodding to herself for her own reassurance. “YN’s strong…and with everything she went through, she rebuilt her life and herself. Billy might have her, but I have a feeling he has no idea who he is dealing with now.”

Thor nodded, “If Billy lays another one of his grimy hands on her, he will suffer a fate worse than death. He’ll be…”

“More dead?” Nat asked, trying to contain a chuckle in this highly stressed situation.

“Yes, but I was thinking more like being stuck in rush hour traffic for the rest of his life,” Thor smirked, trying to keep the conversation light.

“Oh yes, that sounds so much worse.”

_____________

“Where are we going?” You questioned, sneaking a peek at Billy, gripping the steering wheel.

“We’re starting over. I’m saving us from this tricky situation you put us in.”

You leaned back into your seat, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “Right, because everything is my fault,” you grimaced, rolling your eyes. “Why don’t you get it over with and kill me? I mean, isn’t that your plan.”

“WHOA, WHOA, WHOA,” Billy retorted, widening his eyes. “I can’t imagine my life without you. Why would I want to kill you, YN; I love you. You’re all I have.”

“But, that’s it, you don’t have me,” you mumbled, wringing your hands together. “I just never got a say in the matter.”

He huffed out a breath, shaking his head. “What’s with this attitude?”

“Well…what more do I have to lose? I lost my friends and family…like yesterday, and now, you’re all I have,” you admitted with a shrug. “It’s what you wanted, right? Me and you, both ghosts, living in the shadows, or did this car come with new identities, too? Oh wait, is that what’s in the duffle bag in the backseat?”

“Why would you think that?” He narrowed his eyes, licking his lips.

“Well, a creepy guy with a scar and milky eye drops off a car at a gas station. Now, doesn't that sound like the start of a bad joke? I mean, he definitely didn’t look like a criminal or a bad guy in his dark suit, and his name sounded so original, Agent Orange. I think I know a few people by that name.” You pressed your lips together, tilting your head. “On the other hand, if he looked like a dad, wearing crispy white boys on his feet, jean shorts, and a polo shirt. It would have been an immediate red flag.”

Billy smirked, shaking his head. “Luckily for you, you don’t have to worry. I have our lives all planned out, but I did miss your snarky attitude. Whatever happened to it?”

“I will give you a hint,” you leaned over the center console, “if you look in a mirror, you could probably spot the reason.”

“Touche,” He added, cracking a smile, making the corners of his dark eyes crinkle. He gently grabbed your hand in his, sending an unpleasant shiver through your body, and brought it to his lips, kissing the back of your hand. You tried not to make a face as he lowered your conjoined hands back onto the center console.

“I want you to know it isn’t going to be like this forever. We’ll get past this like we always do. I will forgive you, you will forgive me, and we’ll start over in this new city, meet new people, and create a whole new life for ourselves.” He squeezed your hand. “You can forget about the life you created yourself because you're never going back to that. This is our chance to start over...together.”

____________

Nat pulled up behind two other police cruisers and a Chrysler 300 Black Sedan. Thor jumped out before she could get it into park and jogged up to the Chrysler but was stopped by Fury's hand.

“Thor, for what do I owe this pleasure?” Fury asked, his one eye-widening, looking him up and down.

“Is she here? Is my sister here?” Thor gulped, looking past Fury to try and get a better look, but the officers were retreating away from the vehicle.

“No, she’s not.” Thor’s shoulder sank, letting out a breath. “But, I assume you were the one who called in the anonymous tip.”

“Me… anonymous tip…no, no, that doesn’t sound like something I would do.” He shook his head while Nick stared him down.

“Odinson, I listened to the tape, and it sounded just like you.”

“Did it? Huh?” Thor rubbed his chin, staring hard at the ground.

“Seeing it will be better if we just work together at this point. I want you to know that we were able to recover the video surveillance from your sister's home, and we can confirm it was her husband, Billy Russo.”

“I told you this. I told you the night it happened.” Thor shook his head. “And it’s her ex. Ex-husband,” Thor corrected, placing his hands on his hips. “So what…we have nothing now?”

“Russo is smart and is playing his moves carefully. He knows what he is doing, making all the right moves, but he'll mess up, and when he does, we will find him.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less from him given his background,” Nat stated, coming up to stand next to Thor. “Are we even sure this is the right vehicle?”

Fury narrowed his eyes at her, raising his voice. “Believe it or not Ms. Romanoff, but we do know how to track a phone and find a vehicle.” She smirked at his change in attitude. “And for your information, there was a 911 call placed earlier this morning from a gas station near San Diego. A mother and daughter found a note with YN’s name, Russo’s name, the vehicle description, and the license plate number. It said to give this information to the police. This would explain how Russo’s phone ended up in this car.” Nick pointed over his shoulder at the Chrysler. “YN made a smart move, but Russo must have pulled a fast one on her and switched cars at the last minute, so it doesn’t do us much good right now.”

“Did they see YN at all? Was she okay? Was she hurt...”

Fury held up his hand, and Thor shut his mouth. “Yes. The woman mentioned her looking a little beaten up but seemed hopeful.”

“When I find this bastard, I am going to…” Thor bit his tongue, clenching his fist and punching it into his palm. He mumbled to himself, shaking his head, stepping away from them.

“How’s your friend in the hospital? Any word yet?” Fury asked Nat, who narrowed her eyes at the scene behind him.

“He’s in recovery now. They're keeping a close eye on him.”

“Good.” Fury’s eye caught on to Thor’s unexplainable gestures while he paced back and forth. “What would you say about getting your friend a bulletproof vest; he looks like he could do something reckless.”

“I do have an extra one in the cab; I’ll give it to him for safe measure.”

“Excellent.”

“Since this is the correct car, who is the man behind the wheel? Any connection to Russo?” Nat questioned, staring at the black sedan. Thor returned, giving Nat a reassuring nod.

“We haven’t looked into much yet, but his name is William Rawlins. He is the COO of Cerberus and says it’s a company vehicle but doesn’t know who used it before him. He checked it out to run a quick errand over his lunch break, but we are headed back to his office now to look over the record logs.”

“What’s Cerberus?” Thor asked, looking between Nat and Nick for more information.

“It’s a security firm in San Diego, but I think they have different branches all over the country now. It protects public officials, and they also have a private investigating sector that started up a few years ago. I was on a case with one of their ‘agents’ as they call themselves, and he was an asshole.” Nat informed him, Nick nodded in agreement.

“Sounds a lot like Anvil,” Thor added, rubbing a hand over his scruff. “If this is a company vehicle, then someone must be helping Billy. For all we know it’s this Rawlins, and he’s playing us.”

“As much as we want to speculate at this point, it’s too early to tell.” Nat shrugged, and Fury nodded.

“Why would Cerberus remind you of Anvil? What is this Anvil?” Nick inquired, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh, it’s a security firm Billy works at in New York City. He’s in the private investigating sector there.”

“Is there any reason to believe that Anvil is a branch of Cerberus?” Nat raised a brow at him, and Thor narrowed his eyes, processing the information.

“If there is a connection between the two, this could be it,” Nick answered.

_____________

You sat back in the passenger seat, opening up the glove box, seeing a map of California, New Mexico, Nevada, and Arizona. “Where is this new home of ours going to be?”

“You’ll see,” Billy replied with his elbow resting on the door and his head in his hand.

“What are you going to expect me to do? Am I going to get a job, or are you going to make me stay at home and be your trophy wife?”

“Would that be a bad thing? It’s not like you liked being a 911 dispatcher.”

You swallowed, wringing your hands together. “But, I did.”

He scoffed, shaking his head.“You like being in the action, getting dirty in the line of duty, and seeing it first hand. You don’t like being behind a desk, waiting to answer a monitor every time a call comes in.”

“I might not be where the action is, but I am still helping people. I might not see them or get to meet them, but I’m here to help them with whatever they are going through. Using your voice to help is hard, but sometimes that’s all people need to hear to put them at ease and give them a sense of safety.”

“Hmmm, okay,” he snorted, smirking into his hand.

“You have to give me something.”

“I don’t have to give you anything,” he grumbled, running his hand through his hair.

“Well, how do you expect me to trust you again if you don’t tell me what’s going on?”

He licked his lips, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. “Trust me; You want to know how you can trust me? That’s rich because I could ask you the same question. Can I trust you?”

“You don’t have to trust me, but don’t you think I should know what we are getting into. Shouldn’t we at least have a plan once we get to where we are going? People ask questions, Billy, and don’t you think it would be a good idea to figure it out before we get there?”

Billy remained silent, gripping the steering wheel tight. He licked his lips, scrunching up his face enough to form a crease on his forehead. “Do you think I’m an idiot? How do I know that if I tell you, you aren’t going to use the first phone you find to call someone.”

“You don’t,” you answered with a shrug. “But you’re gonna have to trust me a little eventually if you want to make us work again.”

He glanced between you and the road, fighting a battle in his head. He clenched his jaw, letting out a defeated breath. “You’re right; you’re always right.” He licked his lips, shaking his head. “I’m giving us the fresh start we both need, and everything we need is in the bag in the back.”

You turn in your seat, reaching for the bag, and put it on your lap. You unzip it, staring at the contents inside. A rubber band was wrapped around new Arizona IDs and new passports with new names on them. A container with an assortment of keys and enough cash that could get you through at least a few months.

You reached into the bottom of the bag and pulled out three framed pictures of you and Billy. One of you posing and smiling at each other when you first started seeing each other, another one of you at the wedding altar saying I do, and the third, standing close to each other on your honeymoon with the ocean behind you. You swallowed, staring at each one. They were supposed to bring back happy memories, but it only brought back the nightmares this relationship turned into.

“It’s not a home without a few personal touches, right?” Billy shot you a warm smile, and as much as you wished it was sincere, you knew it wasn’t.

“Right,” you breathed, putting everything back and tossing it in the backseat. “So we are moving to Phoenix, then what?”

Billy raised his eyebrows. “We’re going to lay low for a bit until this mess dies down, and I can trust you again.” He throws you a quick glance, rubbing his gauze-wrapped wrist where Cosmo bit him. “Then, once we are a happy couple again, I’ll be taking on a new position at the Cerberus Phoenix branch.”

“What do you expect me to do once we are a happy couple again?” You bit your lip, feeling a lump rise in your throat.

“Let’s not get into specifics right now.” He reached over and grabbed your hand. “I want you to focus on forgetting about your life in LA and everyone in it. They’re not important anymore. It’s you and me, together forever, like we always planned.” He nodded, squeezing your hand for reassurance.

You gave him a quick nod, fighting the tears threatening to escape. You turned your head to look out the passenger side window. The world outside was becoming a blur, and you were stuck inside with Billy, and there was no way to get out. He had a solid plan that left little room for error. Once they arrived in Phoenix, you wouldn’t exist anymore; Billy wouldn’t exist anymore. You would disappear, and those you cared about would be left wondering. Wondering if you were okay; wondering if you were even still alive; wondering how they let this happen to you. You blinked, feeling a few tears escape down your cheeks as you swallowed back a sob. Your friends, family, and Steve were gone, and right now, you might as well be too.

____________

The police unit pulled into Cerberus, following the Chrysler through the electric gate and up the short drive until they came across a facility beyond the gate. It was a modern building, heavily secured and well secluded from the main road.

Fury and Nat walked behind Rawlins while Thor stayed towards the back, taking everything in. He readjusted his bullet-proof vest underneath his shirt and sweatshirt, trying to get used to the tight feeling around his upper body. He didn’t want to wear it, but Nat insisted.

Inside the building, everything had white and gray tones to it from the furniture to the walls. Everything looked pristine and clean, almost like they were hiding something. Thor smiled at the lady behind the front desk, causing her to blush. He continued following the rest of the group up the floating steps to the second floor to an office at the end of the hall.

Fury and Nat began questioning Rawlins, sitting behind his desk. Thor stood off towards the back of the room, half-listening and half scanning his surroundings. If something was connecting him to Russo, he wasn’t going to talk about it; instead, he would have to search for it.

His office looked like every big wig’s office he’d seen in the movies. Floor to ceiling windows, showcasing a beautiful view of the trees on the property. Another wall was lined with artwork and a few bookshelves, filled with books that were probably more for show than actual reading. Thor’s eyes traveled to the walls behind him, noticing a bunch of framed photos hanging on the wall in sort of a college way. He took a step closer, noticing how each frame had an engraved plate under it, stating what branch of Cerberus it was and its location.

“Would anyone else have access to company vehicles?” Fury asked with his pad and pen in hand.

“No, only company employees.”

“Does that include employees from other branches of Cerberus or just current in-house employees, so to speak.”

“Nope, all employees from any branch are welcome to a vehicle as long as they have proper ID,” Rawlins answered, leaning back in his chair. “Who is the young lady that is missing? Maybe one of my teams can assist you. We don’t do many missing person cases, but we are more than happy to help.”

“Oh no, that won’t be necessary,” Fury replied, holding up his hand. “But, we do have reason to believe you know the captor.”

“I’m sorry.” Rawlins looked taken aback, and in some ways, offended. “But this is news to me. I have many employees, so you will have to be more specific.”

Thor read off the frames one by one and glanced at every single picture. He needed to find a connection so he could find you. He clenched his jaw, reading the plates: Vistacorp, Arizona; Vancorp, Texas, and his eyes stopped on the next photo. He didn’t even need to read the plate to know it said Anvil, New York City. He narrowed his eyes at the picture, seeing Rawlins shaking Billy’s hand, and he had that stupid smile on his face that could win everyone over.

“His name is Billy Russo.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t recall anyone by that name.”

Thor growled, tearing the picture off the wall, starling everyone, and marched across the room. “Don’t know him, then why are you shaking his hand in this picture,” Thor shouted, throwing the picture on the desk.

“Oh, look at that he works at the New York branch.” Rawlins scanned the picture before placing it back on the table. “Why are you including me in this accusation? I don’t have anything to do with him or this abduction. I didn’t even know he was in town.” He sat up straighter in his chair, folding his hands together, and placed them on the desk in front of him.

An officer opening the door pulled everyone’s attention away from Rawlins and to the female officer. She handed Fury a piece of paper, whispering something in his ear. Fury nodded, dismissing her. He unfolded the paper, reading what it said before folding it backup and stuffing it in his pocket. “It’s a bit funny how this picture is saying one thing, and you’re saying something completely different. It’s like the picture is lying, and you are telling the truth. I don’t know what I am supposed to believe.”

“I am telling the truth. I have had no contact with--” he pulls the picture back to him “--this Russo since this picture.”

“Then, why was Russo the last person to check out the car, and according to this, he has yet to return the vehicle back to this facility. So how did you check the car out at noon if it wasn’t even on-site?”

Rawlins sat on the other side of the table, staring blankly at the three of them. He licked his lips and tilted his head at them. “Huh? How about that?” He let out a dark chuckle, shaking his head. “Well, I honestly thought it was going to take you longer to figure it out, Detective Fury, but you surprised me. All of you did.” He pointed to each of them, his sinister smile never faltering.

“Where is she?” Thor growled, leaning over the table mere inches from Rawlins's face.

“That’s the thing about Billy,” he licked his lips, challenging Thor. “He is sneaky and quiet. He can hide in plain sight, is fast on his feet, and knows just the right time to strike. If you haven’t found them yet, you aren’t going to. They're both gone, and you’re going to have to live with the fact that you failed her.”

Without further hesitation, Thor punched him straight in the face and knocked him to the floor. Thor slid across the desk to find Rawlins, clutching his broken nose as it bled into his mouth. Thor grabbed him by the collar and punched him again when an officer rushed over and dragged Thor off of him. Thor grunted, pushing the officer into the wall with his nostrils flaring. He headed right back for Rawlins, but Nat stood in his path, pushing on his chest and forcing him to stop.

“Forget about him. Don’t listen to him, Thor,” Nat commanded. “He’s not worth it; put this energy into finding YN and Russo, and then take it out on him.” Thor stopped in an instant, giving her a quick nod.

The officer that held Thor back went over to Rawlins and put his face down on the hardwood floor. He started reading him his Miranda Rights and slipped the cuffs around his wrists.

“You’re lucky only your nose is broken, and both your eyes don’t match, asshole,” Thor threatened as Rawlins was escorted out of the office.

“Feel better?” Fury asked, standing up from his seat.

“No,” Thor answered in a gruff voice, leaning against Rawlins desk and crossing his arms across his chest. “He’s right, you know…Billy is good at hiding. I mean, we didn’t even know he was following her.” He ran a hand down his face. “He does this for a living. Reads crime scenes, follows the evidence, finds suspects, and solves cases. He knows what we are looking for and makes sure to drive us in the opposite direction. He is good at what he does and probably even better at making someone disappear.”

______

AN: Thanks for reading Part 18! Just when you think they have something to go on, they are one more step behind. Thor sure did sack Rawlins pretty good though, but he did deserve it. And it's a good thing Rawlins was slacking on his paperwork, or maybe he just didn't have time to change the name to who checked the car out! 🤷‍♀️ On the plus side, at least they were able to track Billy's cellphone (the wrong one, but it was something), they know about the note she left in the gas station, found 'the other guy' but still got nothing...or do they?! 🤔 Not sure if any of you understood the crispy white boys reference, but it's usually the white tennis shoes dads wear on their feet! It's an Instagram reference me and my friends use all the time now! 😂😂 I will say she is getting more confident and seems to be pushing all the right buttons to get information from him, but he isn't giving much away. And can she trust him enough to know that he is telling the truth? The plot thickens...as always thanks for reading! Comments are always welcome!

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amydancepants-peralta · 3 years

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in the spirit of 4/28: if you’re willing to write non-peraltiago POV, could you maybe write the moment(s) that leas terry to decide he needed to tell jake to propose?

Terry loves love ♥

It all comes to Terry a few weeks after the squad captured the fugitives, on what seems like just another Friday night at Shaw’s.

(Which hardly feels like the ideal setting for an epiphany, but Terry supposes that’s what makes it so … epiphanic.)

It had been a long week - New York seemed to be feeling particularly felonious lately - and he was doubly tired from spending his Wednesday off helping Jake move apartments. With Sharon and the kids staying overnight at her mother’s, and high odds for a sleep-in the following morning, Terry’s plans didn’t stretch much further than washing his week away with a glass of whiskey or six.

That is until Terry noticed, about an hour into the squad’s drinking session; that a suddenly quiet Jake had removed himself from their booth, relocating to a seat by the bar where he could keep a close eye on the entrance. Amy was late - a rarity for any Santiago, but doubly so for Amy - and as Boyle plonks a fresh glass in front of him; Terry remembers watching her bolt out of the bullpen a few hours ago, a sudden lead on an otherwise dormant case too important to delay.

Terry hadn’t heard any updates since then; but given the lack of detailed reports landing in his inbox, and the look on Jake’s face whenever he checked his messages, he would have to assume the lead hadn’t panned out the way Amy hoped.

He’s in the midst of an argument with Rosa over which Friends character was superior (clearly Ross - Terry does not get all the Ross Hate) when Amy arrives ten minutes later, and Terry watches from his position in the corner as she heads straight towards Jake’s outstretched arms, her sense of defeat stretched clearly across sunken shoulders.

As though reverting to his detective days, Terry continues to observe the couple as Jake orders his girlfriend a beer, leading her over to another booth and sliding alongside her until their heads bow in quiet conversation. He thinks, as they talk and he sips, that there was once a time where Amy would have spent the rest of her evening at the precinct, pouring over paperwork, certain it’s the reason why they can’t catch the perp. Just as Jake would have taken the opportunity to boldly declare how he could have done it better - consequences (and unintentionally, feelings) unconsidered.

But now, Amy laughs with her head thrown back while Jake beams with pride; and in the past year or so has been known - after three drinks - to steal her boyfriend away to a slightly more secluded corner of the bar, dancing cheek to cheek to music only the two of them can hear.

It truly was the greatest thing to see, and part of Terry wishes he’d picked up on it sooner.

He watches Jake and Amy for the rest of the evening - even if they weren’t in the bullpen, these people were his work family, and Terry would look out for them anywhere - and as the empties begin to pile up at the squad’s table, the most simplest of truths comes to light. Somewhere along the way - in-between fire extinguisher roller chair derbies, robot captains and covert jimmy jabs - Jake Peralta had transformed into the man that Terry had always known he could be.

Gone was the promising detective that hadn’t quite figured out the puzzle on how to grow up, monopolising too much time in Terry’s therapy sessions. And in his place was one of the 99’s greatest detectives: a brilliant mind at solving puzzles, and a gentle soul who brought two extra gifts to last year’s Secret Santa, ‘just in case Scully and Hitchcock forgot again’.

Who's grin grew impossibly huge each time he’d said the words ‘our apartment’ since the move three days ago. A man who couldn’t get over Amy after that very first crush - no matter how hard he tried - because just like when Terry met Sharon, and they talked about Meatloaf until the bar closed around them; your heart always knows when you’ve found The One.

Jake had grown into someone that finally understood how worthy he was of love, and had a world of it to give in return. A man that was clearly ready to marry the love of his life - the one and only Amy Santiago - and her eyes already sparkled with an unspoken yes to any question of forever.

He thinks about the conversation they had that day in the squad car, racing to find escaped convicts and venting about wasted acrylics; and Jake’s muttered ‘Cool. Basically telling me to never get married or have kids’ in response. Terry hadn’t been lying - a march towards the closet does begin with a single step - but he’d neglected to mention all the great things that came with that closet.

Like coming home to see Sharon and the girls dancing to Destiny’s Child in the living room, or late afternoon naps with tiny heads snuggled into your side. Chaotic mornings filled with stress that melted away the instant you heard “I love you, Daddy”; and treasured moments of peace with Sharon, the couch, and a bottle of wine.

Terry would give up all the acrylics in the world for a hundred more moments just like that - and as the last drop of whiskey drains from his glass, he knows exactly what he needs to do.

***

Terry calls Sharon on the way home - waiting until he’s said goodnight to each one of his angels before telling her his plan. “So. I think Jake should propose to Amy.”

He can almost hear her smile down the phone line, and it makes him wish they’d be back from Sharon’s mother’s sooner. “You do?”

He shrugs into the otherwise empty interior, flexing his grip on the steering wheel out of habit. “Yeah. They’re clearly in love with each other, and … you know. He has that look.”

Sharon laughs - the same laugh Terry heard from his kitchen one morning, a year into their relationship, and just knew that he wanted to hear it for the rest of his life - before asking, “What look?”

“You know. The one I kept giving you when we first started dating. Like I’d finally found the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. So excited and completely scared that somebody could try and take it away.”

“Mmm, I know it well. And when it comes to Jake and Amy, somebody almost did .. right?”

Nodding, Terry thinks of the afternoons he’d find Amy crying in her car, the devastation of another day not knowing where Jake was hiding too hard to conceal for another minute. “Yeah. Almost.”

“Well … if you didn’t try and play cupid, you wouldn’t be the man I married, Terrence Jeffords.”

Terry’s shoulders bounce as he breaks into a tiny happy dance, and he grins. “Terry loves love, baby. Almost as much as Terry loves Sharon.”

“I love you too, baby. And we’ll be back home the day after tomorrow, just in time for you to hatch a plan on how to play matchmaker with my god-husband. I have a pretty good instinct he’ll make a great actual husband … and hopefully it’s someday soon. I am ready for a night of serious dancing.”

* * *

Terry wears his lucky red tie the following Monday, settling into his desk to focus on paperwork as the question of exactly how his plan will unfold remains unanswered at the back of his mind.

Before it’s even 10am, he manages to catch five not-so-secret glances between the two lovebirds (a private joke of some sort dancing in their grins); and pretends to be pre-occupied with his work when Amy sneaks in a quick good luck kiss before Jake leaves for the interrogation room. Terry watches it all with a suppressed grin, switching between several versions of his How To Encourage A Proposal plan as he signs off on the last form in his tray.

These two were clearly in love - and Terry couldn’t wait to see them take that next amazing step.

He catches Jake in the kitchen an hour later, watching as the detective rescues the puzzle section of Scully’s newspaper from certain destruction, placing it on Amy’s desk with a grin. As they stop to discuss Ocampo - a dealer that Jake and Rosa have just begun to tail - all of Terry’s pre-conceived plans of a casual topic change fall quickly by the wayside. As it turns out, telling a person they should propose is not something that comes up easily on it’s own.

And then he opens the fridge for his next scheduled snack, and realises that all this time, Terry’s inspiration was waiting in the very things he cherished the most.

The blueberry and vanilla yogurt containers feel cool against his fingertips, and with his stomach growling at the promise of a delicious meal, Terry nudges the door shut with his hip and calls out to his detective.

“Hey, Jake. Let me show you something amazing.”

(Terry really does believe that yoghurt is the solution to everything.)

#is this a good 14mths late? yes #2020 was ... a year #this prompt was my Everest #anyway v sorry for the late reply anon ... I hope you enjoy!#b99 fanfic #feels like it's been 84 years

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forasecondtherewedwon · 3 years

Text

Absolute Penn

Pairing: Beth Harmon/Benny Watts Rating: T Word Count: 1429

Summary: On Christmas Eve, Beth remembers her mother's words about holiday travel and spontaneously departs for New York City.

She hasn’t experienced a crush of human bodies like this since she was mobbed by elderly Russian men at a chess park. Thankfully, here, everyone is just passing through and their determination to navigate the crowd secures her anonymity. Nobody wants to shake her hand—they don’t even notice her. So many people are coughing and sniffling. Although it’s hot and she’s been regretting putting her heavy coat back on since the instant she stepped off the train, Beth tucks her face into the woolen collar to breathe more private, hopefully less germ-laden, air.

The suitcase in her hand collides with her own knees and those of what feels like hundreds of others as she weaves with the masses to escape the platform and stride down the comparative spaciousness of the concourse. She could’ve flown. She should’ve flown. Why didn’t she fly? Beth tries to recall her reasoning as she cranes her neck to hunt for signs, something to tell her how to get out of here. Which way to the damn fresh air?

Right, right, right, because New York to Moscow (and the reverse) was a hellishly long trip and she hasn’t wanted to board a plane since. Planes are lonely things, without her mother sipping a Gibson and drawing her out of her thoughts every once in a while. Beth didn’t seek out a travel companion on the train that brought her to Penn Station either, but she had the landscape to watch as her passenger car shuddered northeast, not just sky. She’s seen an awful lot of sky in her life. Clouds are ghoulishly repetitive. Déjà fucking vu for the entire duration of an overcast flight.

Unfortunately, the train journey isn’t paying off in all the ways she anticipated. Alma’s assertion some years prior about the ease of traveling on Christmas is being disproven. Viciously. It’s either because Beth took the train on Christmas Eve, thereby missing the golden travel window by a day, or this station doesn’t ever take a break from… this. She has nothing to compare it to; the last time she was in New York (the only time), she arrived by car. Benny’s car. And she has a good memory of inquiringly ruffling the parking tickets accumulated on his windshield as he shrugged it off—that’s what stopped her from driving.

Beth finds a bathroom and traps her suitcase between her feet as she splashes cold water on her face and the back of her neck. She’ll recommit herself to the task of finding an escape in a minute, but now that she’s here, well, her competence is withdrawing inside herself and her nerves about the next part are rising. Where the competence was a hard shell—the ability to ask clearly and firmly for directions while wearing an invulnerable expression—the nerves are sweat and vapour. They rise and pass through her skin, leaving her damp, insubstantial. She didn’t tell Benny she’d be coming.

They’ve spoken. They’ve called and even narrowly missed one another in person when they both decided to drop in on the same tournament (to see friends, not to play) hours apart. After Moscow last winter, coming to New York to visit him felt like too grand a gesture. Of course, now she’s come anyway, and on Christmas Eve, which really can’t be categorized as less subtle. She obviously should’ve just done it right away. Waiting has led to something dramatic and undisguisably meaningful. Fuck. Beth snatches her suitcase off the floor and pushes back out into the swarm of travelers.

Even the oxygen seems harried. People jog and dodge and she can’t tell who’s trying to catch their train versus who’s just arrived in the city. At first glance, there’s an equal panic over everyone. But she starts to notice others: couples in love with the hands not holding luggage clasping each other’s; a group of young women, a little younger than her, maybe, wearing nice shoes and satiny skirts beneath their coats, red-cheeked and probably on their way to a Christmas party; children, too dizzied by the flurry to be cranky with the parents dragging them along by their mittened hands. Beth remembers her mother, Alice. She remembers her own sullen face in the bathroom mirror at Methuen, wishes she could take that girl’s hand and tug, bringing her into this moment, the two of them gliding amongst the trundling hoard, out into the snow she saw from the train window. The sun set on the way and the stuff sprinkled down throughout. She’s going to step outside into a city that looks like a postcard, and that’s what propels Beth up and out. Almost out.

He’s standing at the ticket counter.

“That much? Did I walk into Penn Station or NASA? I said Kentucky, not the Moon. You can’t tell me Kentucky’s a popular destination. Who the hell wants to go to Kentucky for Christmas? Until Irving Berlin writes a song about it, nobody, that’s who. Nobody but me. Bullshit, fifty-three dollars. How ‘bout… twenty?”

Benny’s attempting to negotiate on his train fare. This is so funny that Beth can temporarily compartmentalize that he’s buying a ticket. A ticket to Kentucky, from what she’s overheard. Smirking, she strolls over.

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” she says lightly, eyeing the way he’s shaking a twenty-dollar bill at the impassive ticket seller. His hand slaps to the counter as he twists to stare at her in shock.

“What are you doing here?”

She laughs and feels her cheeks flush from the naked longing on his face.

“I live alone, it’s Christmas Eve, I thought New York would be pretty, and, oh yeah, you’re here. Don’t tell me you’ve already promised the air mattress to someone else.”

Really, she’s impressed that he takes the time to shake his head as he reaches for her after slipping the money away, framing her face in his hands. Cold hands—a relief against her skin. He holds the pose and someone turns the volume down on the rest of the world. The noise of the station dims around them. Beth has time to lift her eyes to the snowflakes glittering as they melt on the brim of Benny’s hat. Then, she’s letting her lids fall as he slants his head and presses his mouth to hers with an intense finality. She’s convinced that she was always meeting him at the station, that the trip was agreed upon and not a snap decision she made after decorating her small tree with the glass ornaments she resurrected from the attic storage, neatly packed away by Alma each January, and realizing she didn’t have to miss him.

Maybe they’re unalike, or were; he was willing to miss her and she tossed god-knows-what into her suitcase and caught the next train that would bring her here. It could be temperament, or strategy, something in him that says wait while her internal voice says act. What she knows it’s not is a gaping disparity in feeling because they kiss with equal fervour. Benny’s face grows warm against hers and she shivers when his chilly fingertips curl around to the back of her neck.

Slowly, she recognizes that the ticket seller is asking them to move aside; their display is blocking the counter. She’s smiling when her lips part and her eyes open. He looks smug as he pries the suitcase from her hand and they shuffle out of line.

“Why, hello, Benny,” she says.

“Why, hello, Beth. Left it a little late, didn’t you?”

“Me? At least I’m not just now getting in line to buy a ticket. Why didn’t you drive?”

“My car’s not the best in the snow. Or the ice. Or even the slush, really.”

“Sounds unsafe.”

“Oh, it is,” Benny agrees. His mouth hangs open for a second before his next words fill it in a rush, “Like the air mattress.”

Beth frowns.

“What’s wrong with the air mattress?”

“Very hazardous. Yeah, it’s, uh, made of some kind of toxic plastic. Any air that leaks out carries harmful gases.”

Playing along, she says, “Don’t worry. I don’t remember it ever deflating on me before.”

“Mmm,” he agrees, “but it’s been folded up awhile now. I don’t trust the seams. I think you’d better not sleep on it, just to be safe.”

“Well, I’m not sleeping on the floor.”

Benny grins.

“I’d never let you wake up Christmas morning on the floor, Harmon. Think better of me.”

He squeezes her shoulder and steers her out into the frosty New York night.

#in honour of the first time I've had to shovel snow this season: a Warmon holiday fic #my writing #The Queen's Gambit #Beth Harmon #Benny Watts #beth x benny

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deja-you · 4 years

Text

times new roman | episode five

t. jefferson x reader

summary: Y/n needs a date. Thomas would be more than happy to oblige.

trailer | previous | next

A few hours earlier...

Sometimes, as humans, we love and forget how to stop loving. Questions will go through your head, like: what if I can’t ever stop loving you? What if I forget everything about myself, and only remember your name? Sometimes we meet the person we want to fall asleep beside. The person whose heartbeat you just can’t help but count.

And then sometimes we meet Thomas Jefferson. Arrogant, know-it-all Thomas Jefferson. The casual flirt who didn’t care for real relationships and was content with one-night stands. The lawyer who defended big oil companies and wealthy business men because, as he put it, “someone had to do it.” The man who had been born into a wealthy family, got into a good school because his family made large contributions, and couldn’t imagine a life void of penthouse apartments and designer suits. In conclusion, Thomas Jefferson was not a man Y/n could ever see herself dating.

This wasn’t a date. They both made that perfectly clear. Quite frankly, Y/n was bored and had nothing else to do. At least, that’s what she told herself. There was nothing harmful about hanging out with her father’s employee for a while, was there? It was fun and meaningless, what could be wrong about it?

But if you had told Y/n how the day was going to end, she would never have left the coffee shop. In fact she would’ve thought you were joking. But no one was there to tell her how the day was going to end, so she did leave the coffee shop. Thomas called an Uber and a few minutes later, Kevin, in a silver Prius showed up to take the pair to Coney Island.

“Really? The Thomas Jefferson takes Ubers? I thought you would have a private driver or a luxury car,” Y/n said.

“S’that really what you think of me? I’m a man of the people, angel.”

She rolled her eyes. “A man of the people who wears $600 Burberry shoes.”

“Excuse me? For your information, I got these shoes on sale. See? I’m just like ordinary people, shopping sales and stuff,” Thomas tried, unconvincingly.

“How much were they on sale, Thomas?” Y/n prodded.

“...$300.”

Y/n proceeded to make fun of Thomas for buying a pair of shoes for that much, saying something about how the rich need to pay higher taxes, but he didn’t hear much of what she said. He was too focused on the fact that she had finally used his first name.

At some point during the 45 minute ride to Coney Island, Thomas asked Kevin if he could have control over the AUX chord. Kevin agreed (earning himself a five-star rating) and Thomas then played some tunes from the 60s.

“The Temptations?” Y/n raised an eyebrow as the catchy intro to My Girl began playing.

“You got a problem with that?” Thomas asked, then he began singing (might I add, quite loudly) along with the lyrics. “I’ve got sunshine, on a cloudy day...”

Y/n shook her head and began to sing along, but still much more reserved than Thomas. “And when it’s cold out, I’ve got the month of May...”

Thomas smiled when he heard her sing along. The chorus started and he nudged her with his shoulders, urging her to sing louder. Y/n rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t keep the smile off her face. They continued to sing the remainder of the song together until it began to die down and transition into another R&B song.

“So tell me,” Y/n began, “what made you decide to take a trip to Coney Island today?”

Thomas gave her a thoughtful look. “Used to come with my mom and siblings when we visited New York. Always had fun.”

“What about your dad?” Y/n asked.

He sighed and looked away from her. “My dad died when I was 14. We started visiting New York every summer after that.”

“I... I didn’t know. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“You couldn’t have known.” Thomas gave her a small smile. “Everything about Virginia reminded me of my dad. I think that’s why I moved to New York. I’ll visit Coney Island now and then when I want to be reminded of my family. Reminded of the good parts, at least.”

They fell into silence, neither one of them knowing what to say. The beat of some jazzy tune could be heard as well as Kevin tapping along on the steering wheel.

“My dad used to take me to Coney Island,” Y/n finally said. She was trying to break the silence, but immediately wished she hadn’t said anything. Was it insensitive to bring up her own dad when Thomas had just told her that his dad had died?

She was put at ease when he smiled. “That so?”

Y/n nodded slowly. “Well, it was only once. I must’ve been ten? We went on a rollercoaster, even though I was terrified.” She laughed quietly before turning more serious. “I don’t think I’ve been to Coney Island since. Dad started getting more busy, which I understood of course.”

Thomas turned on his side to face her, casually resting his arm against the backseat. Maybe he didn’t know how good his bicep looked when he sat like that. Maybe he did. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to be Washington’s kid. I mean, he’s an amazing guy and a great boss—feel free to tell him I said that —but running a business this size must take a lot of time.”

“It was hard at first, for my mom and I,” Y/n admitted. “He would always be traveling for work. It took us a little bit, but we figured it out. He would visit us at home sometimes, and then other times mom and I would visit him. Sometimes he would take me on work trips with him. And then it made sense to go to college in New York so I could be closer to dad.”

“Sounds like everything worked out pretty well for you and your family, then.”

“Only because my parents worked hard to make time for me. My dad was always happy to see me, but I could tell that he was exhausted after a long week and traveling home to see us.” She then added, “but I shouldn’t complain. I know a lot, if not most, people had it worse off.”

“Maybe,” Thomas shrugged, “or maybe not. You don’t need to compare your struggles to anyone else’s, angel.”

“I...I know that,” Y/n murmured.

They continued talking for the rest of the drive. Discussing which Netflix shows were the best, and which ones were garbage (Thomas was convinced Tiger King was the best show on Netflix, making Y/n roll her eyes). Thomas told some funny anecdote about one of his crazy clients, and Y/n even brought up how she was trying to find an internship with a humanitarian group. They never ran out of things to talk about, and only stopped their conversation when Kevin the Uber driver announced they had reached their destination.

“It is cold.” Y/n admitted as she stepped out of the car.

“I did tell you to bring a jacket, didn’t I? The wind coming off the ocean is pretty chilly, isn’t it?”

Y/n squinted up at the sky. “It doesn’t help that the sun hasn’t decided to come out.”

Thomas chuckled and began walking down the boardwalk. “C’mon, I know what’ll cheer you up. Let’s get food.”

There weren’t many things that could make Y/n smile the way she did when she was offered food. She happily skipped after Thomas and they came to a food stand. They ordered some variety of burgers, fries, and milkshakes, Y/n didn’t really pay much mind to it. When Thomas pulled out her wallet she swatted his hand away.

“You paid for the Uber, I can’t let you pay for lunch, too,” Y/n insisted, pulling out her own wallet.

He waved her off. “No, let me. What kind of gentleman doesn’t pay on a—”

“On a what, Thomas?” Y/n raised an eyebrow. “Because we’ve both agreed that this isn’t a date.”

“Right, right. Of course.”

“Besides, the whole idea that men have to pay for dates, or in our case non-dates, is completely outdated. I’m paying for lunch.”

Thomas hid a smile and allowed Y/n to pay for lunch, seeing that nothing he said would change her mind at this point. It was mostly a pride thing, he figured. Y/n paid for the food and they ate while they walked along the boardwalk.

“So what’s the plan now?” Y/n asked. “Are we going to go do all that touristy stuff?”

“Wasn’t my plan,” Thomas replied. “Unless that’s what you want to do. There is something I want to show you.”

“You’ve probably been here more times than me, I’ll let you make the decisions. This time.”

“Great. You done eating?”

Y/n looked down at the empty bag she held in her hand that had been filled with food only moments before. What? She was hungry. “Yep. All done.”

They tossed their garbage in a trash can, and Y/n let Thomas lead her down a boardwalk toward who knows where. They stopped so Thomas could buy a bag of cherries. Y/n had so many questions, she didn’t even know where to begin.

“You’re buying cherries? Are you hungry? We just ate. I didn’t know they were even in season,” she commented.

Thomas turned to look at her, rolling his eyes. “So you’re just going to question and insult all my decisions, then?”

She shrugged. “What else would I do?”

“C’mon, angel, let’s go.”

So with a bag of cherries in hand, Thomas continued on his way down the boardwalk with Y/n in tow. They walked in silence; Y/n didn’t even question him when Thomas stepped off the boardwalk and onto the sandy beach. They didn’t walk to the water. Thomas and Y/n walked along the boardwalk until the boardwalk was a few feet over their heads.

They kept walking until Thomas led Y/n to a spot underneath the boardwalk. Ocean air on one side, a concrete wall filled with graffiti on the other. Sand beneath them, and the slotted wood of the boardwalk above letting through beams of sunlight. Waves could be heard crashing on the shore not too far away, along with seagulls somewhere above them and the nondescript chatter of tourists and locals.

Thomas climbed on top of a cement slab and took a seat, opening his bag of cherries. “Here we are. This has been my spot since I was a kid. I hope you like it.”

“Under a boardwalk? Sitting on cement?”

“What? You don’t like it, angel?” He teased.

Y/n shook her head and moved to take a seat next to her. “No, I love it. I just didn’t picture Thomas Jefferson’s hangout to look like this.”

“Why do you say ‘Thomas Jefferson’ like that? Like I’m some kind of notorious billionaire playboy.”

“That’s what you think it sounds like when I say your name like that?” She laughed. “I don’t know, is that not how you see yourself?”

“Well I wouldn’t be in bad company, would I? Batman and Iron Man are both billionaire playboys,” he pointed out. “But I see myself as a suave, charming business man with a touch of Southern hospitality.”

“You’re so full of it.”

And sure, it was supposed to be an insult. But the way Y/n laughed when the words came out of her mouth made Thomas feel a way he hadn’t felt in a while. He’d rather have her insult him everyday than have some other woman whisper sweet nothings in his ear. Because all they would be is nothing, and when Y/n spoke it was like warm honey and a string orchestra.

“Perhaps.” Thomas shrugged and nudged the bag of cherries toward her. “You want one?”

She eyed them warily. “I don’t know. Are they poisoned? How do I know you didn’t lure me out to Coney Island to give me poisoned cherries and hide my body under the boardwalk?”

“Why would I want to kill you? They’re not poisoned.”

Y/n decided that he must be telling the truth and popped a cherry into her mouth.

“Besides,” Thomas continued, “if I wanted to kill you, this wouldn’t be the way.”

She swallowed roughly and stared at him with wide eyes. Seeing her expression, Thomas laughed in an attempt to reassure her. “I’m just teasin’, angel. Don’t look at me like that.”

“So,” Y/n said, “do you often lure unsuspecting women down here with a bag of poisoned cherries?”

“They’re not poisoned.” He shook his head, but his smile still reached his eyes. “But to answer your question, no. I’ll come down here now and then, usually pick up some local fruit, but I’ve never brought anyone else here.”

“Should I feel special, then?”

Thomas watched her for a moment then shrugged. “If you want. I think you’re pretty special no matter what.”

“So smooth. You practiced that?”

“If you would I believe it, no. But I have other tried and true pick-up lines.”

“Let’s hear them.”

“Really?”

She nodded, “yeah.”

“Well sometimes I’ll say,” and he proceeded to drop his voice an octave to try and sound... sexy? “‘Do you have a name? Or can I just call you mine.’“

Y/n burst out laughing again, leaving Thomas confused.

“Huh. That’s not usually the response I get,” he admitted.

She tried to contain her laughter. “I’m sorry, but that’s hilarious. Does that actually work on women?”

“You’d be surprised. 9 times out of 10.”

“Alright, alright. What else you got?”

“Okay, how about ‘are you a map? Because I just got lost in your eyes.’”

Y/n laughed again. “Really? That’s so corny.”

“Is it?” Thomas pouted. “Fine, I’d like to see you do better. Give me your best pick-up line.”

“I will do better. Okay, try this one on for size. Are you a beaver? Because dam.“ The way she said it with such seriousness must’ve made it funnier, because it was Thomas’s turn to laugh this time.

“I’ll admit,” he smiled. “I liked that one.”

“See? It’s not that hard.”

“Fine, you win. Now let’s do something I know I can beat you at.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

Thomas held up a cherry for her to see, then pulled the stem off. “Have you ever tied a knot in a cherry stem with your tongue?”

“No, but I’m sure it’s not that hard.”

Y/n would live to regret those words. For the next who-knows-however minutes, Y/n struggled to tie a knot in her cherry stem. It was one of those things that she thought she would just pick up easily, but it was so much harder than it looked. It didn’t help that Thomas was weirdly good at this, tying maybe three stems while Y/n was still working on her first. His coaching wasn’t very helpful either.

“You just need to bend the stem in half with your tongue, cross the two ends over, and tighten the knot with your teeth,” he told her for what could’ve been the hundredth time.

“I’m trwaying! Not sthat easuh!” Y/n complained, aggressively maneuvering her tongue around the stem. Thomas laughed at her but was silenced when she sent him her very best death glare.

For the next five minutes, Y/n was completely focused on tying the stem. First, she had to make sure the stem was bendy enough to be tied. Bending it into a half-circle was the easy part. She scrunched her nose up when she had to cross the ties, knowing this is where she had always messed up in the past. Then using her tongue to push one end of the stem through the loop, she tightened it and pulled out them stem to show Thomas.

And of course, being Thomas Jefferson, he leaned back, smirked, and said, “damn, angel, what else can that tongue do?”

Y/n’s mouth fell open. Her face heated up. She stumbled over her words until she settled on an offended, “Jefferson!”

And that stupid smile he wore when he knew he had gotten her all worked up and flustered made her think that he said it just to get a reaction out of her. The way he looked at her made her feel some kind of way, and she didn’t know if she never wanted to feel that way again, or if she never wanted to stop feeling that way.

“Don’t be gross,” she finally muttered, her eyes trailing the sand at her feet.

He chuckled, “sorry ‘bout that.”

Again, they fell into a silence. At some point Thomas started humming a tune that Y/n recognized as Under the Boardwalk. Fitting. A cold breeze reminded Y/n that it was still a chilling April day and the wind coming off the ocean wouldn’t let her forget that either.

“Do you want my coat?”

“What?” Had he read her mind?

“You’re visibly shivering.” Oh. “Do you want my coat?”

It’s not like Y/n hadn’t brought her own coat. She had, it was a pretty red color, but it didn’t keep the cold out well. Y/n hadn’t realized just how much colder it would be on Coney Island, but if she had thought about it for a second she would’ve known better. The problem was that when Thomas asked her to come with him and flashed her that charming smile, she didn’t think. So now she was cold.

“No. I shouldn’t—”

“Angel, can we just skip the whole pride thing? This doesn’t have to be some cliché moment where I give you my coat and it’s oversized on you and you look so cute so it’s worth it to me that I’m cold. Just take my coat, okay? You need it more than I do.”

Y/n blinked. “...okay.”

Thomas inched closer to her, shrugging the jacket off his shoulders. He wrapped the jacket around her, and then proceeded to change the course of their relationship forever. Instead of leaving the jacket on her shoulders and returning his hands to his side, his hands lingered.

If that hadn’t happened, maybe Y/n would’ve held the jacket tightly to herself. She’d be warm. They’d continue to have light conversation. Then they would go their separate ways. Maybe she’d see him at her dad’s office and they’d give friendly nods to each other when they passed in the hallways. They’d go make to being familiar strangers, and that would be perfectly fine.

But his hands lingered. And he knew what was happening. And she knew what was happening. The kind of linger that wouldn’t occur between two friends or any two people who were less than that. He was still holding her in his arms and showed no signs of letting her go. Y/n looked up from the sand and met his eyes.

I could tell you that she saw a universe or forever or something wonderful in his eyes, but let’s be real, they were a pair of eyes. A pair of beautiful eyes, sure, but they were just eyes. So it wasn’t his eyes that made her fall in love. It wasn’t his eyes that made her lean in and kiss him. It was simply the person she had spent the last few hours getting to know.

His lips were soft and tasted of cherries, and when he kissed her back, it was with a kind of gentleness and tenderness that Y/n hadn’t expected from Thomas.

All too soon, logic and sensibility kicked in. Y/n actually realized what she was doing, and while she didn’t want to stop, she couldn’t continue without better reasoning.

She pulled away, not having the heart to push him away after initiating the kiss. Her whole body felt hot, and it wasn’t due to the new coat she had recently acquired. Y/n’s heart began beating more than the average beat for minute, however fast that was, she couldn’t quite think properly about anything.

“Y/n—”

Why did her name on his lips sound so good all breathy and needy from the kiss? Was that even the right way to describe it? And why couldn’t she think about anything else except him?

“I need to go.” It wasn’t Y/n’s proudest moment, but she wasn’t able to think clearly around him, and that was dangerous in itself. Maybe she’d feel bad about leaving him behind with no explanation later, but she was a too much of a mess right now to even think of that.

She retraced her steps back up to the boardwalk (Thomas called after her a few times but ultimately let her go) and out onto the street. She got in an Uber -- or was it a taxi? Y/n couldn’t remember. The ride home seemed quicker when she was zoned out. At some point she had texted Peggy? The memory was hazy.

Even though there were people on the streets and her driver in the front seat, Y/n suddenly felt all alone. Alone with her... feelings. Her traitorous, uncontrollable feelings. Thomas had made her feel some kind of way that the only thing that could get it to stop was just to stop feeling altogether. And that wasn’t working well for her. Y/n sighed and opened up her phone.

A/N: Let me know if I forgot to tag you or if you’d like to be tagged.

tags: @wiffle-snuffles @thisistrashperson @comingupwithacoolnameishard @wordvomit-foryourmind @newtonslawoffuck @isharemydeathdaywithfeanor @i-know-i-can @imperial-martian @fangirling-central @dannighost @ateliefloresdaprimavera @justahappylilblog @fanfic-addict-98 @a-hopeless-fan @and-claudia @nicolemelton @youtxbemusic @reidcult @eirenism @fantasy-of-fiction @iamsuperconfusedallthetime-dead @a-midwinter-night-dream-86 @rycbar-221b @bethanymccauley @fanworrior @gggamingz @nemesis729 @ibeaesthethicc @yodas-padawan @sabbrriiinnaa @micaiahmoonheart @beautifulfound @moondustmemories @ct-salad @teenwaywardasgardian @bj-is-a-graduateof-julliard @ruebx @katierpblogg @speedypartyducksuitcase @fangirling-central @idkkbaleighh @ballerinafairyprincess @spn-pogues @gryffin-claw @elegantbutedgy @1elysium @sierraisnotreal @ssanjuniperoo @collectivefandom

#hamilton x reader #hamilton #hamilton imagine #lafayette x reader #hamilton fanfiction #lafayette imagine #daveed diggs #marquis de lafayette #daveed diggs x reader #thomas jefferson x reader #thomasjefferson #thomas jefferson imagine

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wefoundloveunderthelight · 3 years

Text

Waterfall Memories by GleefullyCaptainSwan Chapter 1/9

Read on AO3: | Chapter 1

Or on FF

Stacy's Tortured Crew: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jrob64 @jonesfandomfanatic @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx @therooksshiningknight @batana54 @superchocovian @onceratheart18 @ultraluckycatnd @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s @the-darkdragonfly

Chapters titles are based on the lyrics from “Stubborn Love” by The Lumineers

Chapter 1: It’s Better to Feel Pain

Emma Nolan stared at herself in the mirror, the white gown hugging the curves of her hips as the material jutted out behind her, flowing into a long swirl of creamy white silk behind her. It was the wedding dress of her dreams. Growing up she never imagined she would get the chance to wear it, much less afford it. Lately everyone kept telling her what a fairytale her life had become and how lucky she was to be marrying Walsh Oz, billionaire extraordinaire, New York’s most eligible bachelor.

Lucky was one way to put it, but lately, Emma just felt trapped.

She knew she was being irrational and completely selfish. Women had been lining the block simply to get a hello from Walsh, and all she did was walk into one of his hotels and he was captivated by her. At first it was a dream come true. Walsh took her to all the best restaurants, the most lavish parties, even flying her to London on his own private jet to celebrate their one-year anniversary.

Her parents were enamored with her fiancé, she didn’t fault them for it. Her parents always wanted the best for their daughter. Walsh could provide her things they could never afford or even imagine owning themselves.

“Oh my God, Emma, sweetie, you look beautiful.” Emma looked in the mirror to see her mother’s reflection, her cheeks beaming red, her eyes full of pride. She managed a smile and flattened the material around her hips.

“What is it? Is it the dress?” Her mother’s expression turned anxious, and Emma bit her lip.

“No, it’s fine. The dress is perfect.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m getting everything I ever dreamed of.” She sighed. “Just…” Her mom stepped up on the platform next to her. “How did you know dad was the one?”

“Well…I don’t think it was one thing. When I met your father, I was young and stubborn. It wasn’t exactly love at first sight. In fact, the first time I met him, I thought he was so cocky that I threw my drink in his face.”

Emma laughed. “You did not.”

“I did, he walked up to me, and introduced himself with the stupidest pick-up line.”

“No! Dad was one of those guys?”

“I believe he told me that I could stop looking because I had just met the man of my life.”

Emma groaned, hardly believing that her dad had tried that on her mom. She had heard stories of her mom, strong willed, stubborn, and determined that she didn’t need a man in her life.

“And yet you still married him.”

“Let’s just say he grew on me.”

“Dad isn’t one to give up.”

“No, he definitely isn’t. I think that’s where you get it from.” Emma frowned. “Emma what is it?”

“I don’t know, I just…” She paused, unsure how to say what was bothering her. “Do you think I’m giving up. Getting married to Walsh?”

“Giving up? What do you mean? You love Walsh. Don’t you?”

“Of course, I do. I mean…I’d be crazy not to.”

“Emma…” Her mother started to fuss with the train on her dress.

“Mom, it’s fine, honestly, I’m just nervous.” Emma deflected, adjusting the veil on her head. She was getting married in a week. She was just getting cold feet, that was all. Of course, she loved Walsh. She’d be an idiot not to. She exhaled and stared at her reflection.

“You really are a beautiful bride.”

“Thanks, mom.”

“It’s ok to be nervous. Every bride is nervous before their wedding.” Her mom squeezed her hand. “When do you and the girls leave?”

Emma checked her phone. “Crap, Ruby is stopping by in three hours. I need to get home and pack.”

“Well, I think we’re all done here. You guys are going to be careful right? Don’t drink too much and get plenty of sleep.”

“Mom, it’s a bachelorette weekend, not a church revival.” Emma rolled her eyes.

“I know but it’s so close to the wedding.”

“Don’t worry, Ruby has everything planned out.”

“Yes, that’s what worries me.” She laughed.

“Belle helped her plan the trip, and you know that Belle would never do half the stuff Ruby does, so I think everything will be fine.”

Her phone began ringing on the chair next to the dressing room door. Emma stepped off the ramp and saw Ruby’s face pop up on the screen. She slid across the screen to accept the call.

“Girl, are you ready for some debauchery and drunken parties!” Emma closed her eyes and turned toward her mom.

“She’s joking.” She faced the phone. “Seriously Ruby, don’t freak my mom out.”

“Sorry, Mrs. Nolan, I’m just kidding, we are going to be doing a lot of volunteer work at a local church in…”

“Nice try Ruby.” Her mother said with a roll of her eyes. “Just make sure she comes back safely and in one piece.”

“You’ve got it, mom.” Ruby nodded. “You can trust me.”

“I trust Belle. I only partially trust you.”

“Ouch.”

“I still remember senior year.” Her mother continued and Ruby groaned.

“You make one mistake, and no one ever forgets it.”

“I hardly believe that 2 days in county lock up counts as a mistake.” Her mother pulled the veil from Emma’s hair and sat it on the chair. “Just bring her home in one piece, Ruby.”

“Yes, mom. I promise.”

“I’m headed home now to pack.”

“You haven’t packed yet? You are always the last to do anything. Belle’s been packed for 3 weeks.”

“Yes that’s because Belle is a control freak and has no life.”

“Just be ready by the time we get there.”

“I can’t do that until you hang up.”

“Goodbye, bitch.” Ruby’s face disappeared from the screen and Emma felt her mother’s hands on her back, unlacing the straps on the dress.

“Please be safe this weekend.” Her mother said softly.

“I will mom, it’s just a short road trip to Maine.”

“You know I worry when you go to the store.”

Emma laughed. “I’ll message you along the way. Will that make you feel any better?”

“I love you.” Her mom said seriously. Emma stared at her mom, a smile spreading on her face.

“I love you too, Momma.”

Emma finished getting dressed back into her clothes and left her mother at the front of the store. She drove back to her apartment, trying to remember everything that she needed to pack when she got back home.

Her phone rang again, and she clicked the button on her steering wheel to accept the call from Walsh.

“Hey babe.” She announced as the call connected.

“Emma, darling, have you left yet?”

“Nope, just headed home from my last dress fitting.”

“Do you really need to go today?”

“You know the answer to that.”

“I don’t see the point to this trip.”

“I just want to spend time with my best friends before we leave for Italy.”

“I don’t like it. Three women traveling across country alone isn’t safe.”

“We’ll be fine.”

“Why can’t you fly? I can have my pilot fly you there.”

“Because we want to do a road trip. Like we did our senior year.”

“But you have a jet, Emma. Driving is so…beneath you now.”

“We talked about this; I want to do this.” Emma sighed. She was tired of having this argument with him. Back in their senior year, Ruby, Emma, and Belle had taken an epic road trip on senior skip day. They just wanted to relive these moments before things changed. Walsh would never understand, he hadn’t been a normal teenager. He had been raised with wealth since he was born. He didn’t enjoy the mundane things like driving his own car or taking a trip without a personal chef.

“Just promise me you’ll be careful.” He paused before continuing. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay at my hotel up there? The penthouse would be much better than whatever room Ruby could have booked.”

“Would you stop that, Ruby saved for two months to afford to take me on this trip.”

“And I told you she didn’t have to do that.”

“That’s not the point, she wanted to do this for me.”

He groaned, “Fine, just call me when you get there.”

“Of course, I will.”

“I love you darling.”

“Yeah you too.” She said quickly, hanging up the phone and pulling into the parking garage. She lived alone in an apartment near the water. Walsh hated that she wanted to live there until after the wedding. He hated the fact that she lived in this area of town, but she didn’t see anything wrong with it.

Sure, there was a homeless guy who lived in the alley, but Emma thought Leroy was just a grumpy old man who was down on his luck. Sometimes she would make herself an extra sandwich for lunch and drop it off to him on her way to work. He would grumble and moan about not needing a handout, but he always thanked her when she returned home from work.

Her favorite part of the apartment was the balcony. She had the best view of the harbor that no amount of money could pay for. She spent her evenings sitting at the tiny table, drinking her cocoa, and watching the boats sail in for the evening. It was her tiny piece of heaven. And the one thing she was going to miss most about moving to Walsh’s city penthouse. She looked over at the easel propped against the wall, her latest painting still sitting unfished on the wooden stand. She ran her fingers over the majestic swan lightly etched in the center of the pond waiting for a coat of paint to give it justice. She would finish it once she returned home from her trip.

She took one last look at the docks in front of her and hurried back into her apartment to pack her bags before Ruby would arrive. Emma met Ruby Lucas on the playground in 1st grade. Emma was hiding under the slide, away from the teasing taunts of her male classmates when Ruby walked over to the biggest of all the boys, knocked him backwards into the sand and growled at him. They had been best of friends ever since. When Belle French moved to their school in 4th grade, her nose stuck in a book, a shy smile creeping on her face when anyone approached her, Ruby and Emma made it their mission to draw her out of her quiet existence.

The three had become inseparable once they reached junior high school. They had a pact that they would always be there for each other, no one would ever mess with any of them. And no male would ever come between them.

They had been tested throughout the years. Their pact threatened to dissolve when Belle and Ruby found out they were both sleeping with the same man. Graham Humbert never knew what hit him when instead of turning on each other, they confronted him and both women left him alone that evening.

When Emma was first approached by Walsh, she wanted to turn and run away from all the attention he suddenly thrust upon her. She didn’t feel worthy of all the extravagant gifts and flowers, but Ruby and Belle convinced her that she deserved to be treated like the princess she always dreamed of being. Eventually she got used to the way that Walsh showed his affection through a new diamond bracelet or an overnight trip to the Eiffel Tower. Even if sometimes she felt like he only did it for the cameras or to earn a positive write up in the paper whenever a negative news story was threatening to brew about one of his corporations.

Emma pushed the negative thoughts from her brain. Walsh loved her. He asked her to marry him. Emma Nolan was about to be Mrs. Emma Oz.

She scrunched her nose and groaned. It was such a stupid name. Oz. When she first heard about Walsh, she thought the last name was a joke, there was no way his last name was out of a storybook with a tornado and munchkins. When she finally met him and he told her the story of how he legally changed his family name of Oswald to Oz so that his business empire would be named the Land of Oz and he would be its ruler, she almost choked on her tea and walked out of the restaurant.

Emma Oz. Utterly Ridiculous.

Her front door swung open, and Emma heard Ruby and Belle’s voices through the hall. “I’m back here.” She yelled.

“Tell me you aren’t still packing!” Ruby exclaimed as she entered the bedroom.

“Of course, I’m not. I’m just…” She bit her lip. “Checking to make sure I didn’t forget anything.” She lifted the few items she had in the bag.

“Looks like you forgot almost all of it, Emma.” Belle teased.

“You have been procrastinating for weeks on this trip. Are you sure you want to go?” Ruby whined.

“Of course, I want to go, I would go anywhere with you two losers.”

“Aww, we love you too.” Ruby cooed, wrapping her arms around her waist and tugging Belle into their mashed-up bodies.

“Ok this is getting us nowhere. Let me finish up, I promise it’s only going to take me five minutes.”

The girls retreated to the kitchen while Emma finished shoving items into her bag. It wasn’t that she hadn’t been looking forward to this trip. She really did want to spend time with Ruby and Belle. But after this weekend, the only thing left was the wedding and maybe deep down she wasn’t really ready for that to happen.

She took one last look around her room to ensure she hadn’t forgotten anything and tossed the bag over her shoulder.

“It’s about time.”

“Hey now, I’m the bride, shouldn’t I get more time than the rest of you?”

“You’re the one marrying a billionaire bachelor, if anyone needs more time to get ready for this trip it should be us. We haven’t found our sugar daddy yet.” Ruby shrugged.

“Walsh is not my sugar daddy.” Emma scolded in reply. “So, are we going to waste more time, or can we get going now?”

“Are you ready to enjoy your final week of freedom?” Belle teased.

“One last week to get down and dirty.” Ruby replied as she bumped her hip against hers.

“Are either of you going to tell me what you have planned?”

“Nope.” Ruby said simply, grabbing her bag from her hand and walking out the door.

“I call shotgun.” She yelled, chasing after her friends.

Sitting in the car, singing at the top of her lungs, was everything she could have ever asked for to distract her from her apparent case of cold feet.

If you wanna be my lover You gotta get with my friends Make it last forever Friendship never ends

Belle and Emma continued singing loudly as Ruby pulled off the road suddenly.

“Please tell me this is not where we are staying?” Emma looked around at the forest surrounding each side of the small road they were traveling on. Ruby insisted they take an off-road route on their way to Maine. She called it Emma’s Exploration Highway.

“Of course, we aren’t staying here, this is just one of the stops on the Emma Exploration Highway Express.”

Emma groaned. “Stop calling it that.”

“Come on, what happened to that crazy girl we grew up with? Just because you are about to be hitched doesn’t mean you can’t have a little fun.”

“Hey, I’m still that same girl.” She complained.

Ruby held up a bag in her hands and smirked. “Well then, let’s get adventurous.”

Belle hopped out of the car, popping the trunk, and pulling out a cooler and a blanket. Emma looked around anxiously at the lush forest surrounding them. She had no idea what her friends had planned but whatever it was, she knew she would never forget this week with them. She was lucky to have friends that cared so deeply for her. People she had known almost her entire life that still knew her as Emma Nolan. Maybe if she still had them, she wouldn’t lose her identity when she became Mrs. Oz.

“So, what exactly are we doing?”

“Follow me.” Ruby winked mysteriously and she followed her down a dirt trail to the edge of a mountain. She could hear water rushing loudly over the side of the cliff. Leaning forward to peek over the edge she saw a waterfall cascading toward the ground far below her. The water sped off down a quick moving river and through the dense forest below them. She could see where it split off down two paths into a larger river, with a fast-moving current tossing water against the rocks. Beyond that it was a mystery, the lush forest cradled together to hide the beauty it kept beneath it. The view was breathtaking.

“Ok future Mrs. Oz, it’s time to give your man a reason to miss you.”

Emma looked down at the items being dumped out onto the blanket and blushed. “No way. I’m not putting any of that on.”

“Oh, come on, live a little, I bet that man will jizz in his three-piece suit when he sees pictures of you wearing this.”

“Ruby, it’s supposed to be sensual, not dirty.” Belle corrected her friend.

“Oh my God, stop. I don’t want you to ever think about my future husband like that.” Emma pinched the bridge of her nose. She held up on of the lacey items in front of her face. Emma never really wore lingerie. It made her feel exposed, and Emma didn’t like to feel like she was not in control.

Emma was always in control of herself around Walsh. She wasn’t a virgin, but sex with Walsh was almost clinical. They had a way they did things, and they didn’t deviate from them. They always had sex in bed, removing the comforter before their clothes came off. Walsh would kiss her, touch her breasts, and then complete the act on top of her. Afterwards, he would insist they both shower so as not to dirty the sheets. He preferred things to be clean and tidy at all times.

At first Emma found him to be odd, almost robotic, but after a while she became acclimated to the process. At times enjoying the fact that she didn’t have to go out of her comfort zone to please him. He never seemed to want more from her, and she didn’t offer.

But she always wondered if after they were married that maybe he might be interested in more. One time during their initial dating period, she tried to coax him into having a quickie in a janitor’s closet at one of his hotels. At first he seemed intrigued, almost turned on, until she kicked over a mop bucket, spilling the dirty water all over the floor and causing Walsh to immediately retreat from the room in disgust.

She was sure that getting photos of her in sexy lingerie out in the middle of nowhere might shock him. Maybe it would be good to show a different side to him, give him a taste of the woman he was marrying. Maybe he would take her the moment she returned home. The thrill of a man tearing her clothes from her body because he desired her so greatly made her body shiver. She bit her lip, reaching for one of the long, black see-through nighties and slipping her fingers against the fabric.

Live a little, Emma.

“Oh, that one is perfect for your light skin. Hell, I’d do you in that. Remember 9th grade?” Her eyebrow rose and Emma blushed.

She slapped Ruby on the shoulder. “Hey, we said we’d never talk about that again.”

“Try it on.” Belle giggled, taking a swig of one of the beers from the cooler.

Emma peeled off her shirt, unclasping her bra and tossing them to the side of the blanket, she dragged the black lace over her head and slipped her arms through the hole. Standing up she slid her yoga pants down her legs and spun around. “Well?”

“You can’t wear those ridiculous boy shorts under it. You have to take them off, Em.”

Emma groaned. “Fine. But take these pictures quickly. I don’t want anyone else to see me.” She tucked her thumbs into her underwear and quickly dragged them down her legs, tossing them with the rest of her clothes and walking toward the top of the waterfall.

“Now what?” She turned back to her friends who were following her with Belle’s Nikon camera.

“Sit on that rock.” Ruby pointed toward the water.

“That’s in the middle of the creek bed. I don’t want to get wet.”

“But it has the best view. The water isn’t even that deep.” Ruby kicked off her sandal and stood in the shallow water. “Besides, the pictures will look so amazing with the backdrop.” Emma looked at where the waterfall slid over the side of the mountain. The view was almost ethereal. Even if Walsh didn’t like the pictures, Emma had never felt more beautiful standing in the cool water, the black silk material swirling around her in the stream.

She tiptoed out into the center of the creek bed, sitting down onto the large rock in the center and pulling the wet material up over her legs. The rock was slippery and cold against her flesh. She couldn’t believe she was actually doing this.

“Ok now you have to pose.” Belle laughed, trying not to fall in the water as Ruby crept closer to her with the camera pointed toward her.

“I don’t have the first idea how to do this.” She groaned.

“Just act natural.” Ruby began snapping pictures, moving around the angles carefully as Emma tried to casually move around the rock. She had no idea how to be sexy.

“I said natural, you’re trying too hard.”

“Ugh, Rubes, maybe this is a bad idea, sexy just isn’t in my nature.”

“Are you kidding, look at you, naked, sitting on a rock in the middle of nowhere. You are sexy.” She continued to click the button, even as she spoke, and Emma finally sighed.

“Ok, be sexy.” She whispered to herself, leaning backwards on the rock to push her lips into a pout for the camera.

“There you go, make him want it.” Ruby cheered.

Emma lifted her arms over her head, looking backwards at the sun above her. Suddenly the rock beneath her shifted, rolling backwards as Emma slid toward the water. She grasped for the rock, or anything to stop her forward momentum as she raced toward the end of the cliff. She looked back toward her friends as she went under a swell of water at the apex of the cliff, gulping as she swallowed and choked. Her nails scratched the nearby rocks, trying to get a grip on the rough surface.

The water seemed to get deeper and faster, and she was getting turned around, her eyes sought the sky, then she was under water, gulping, screaming, watching as the edge of the cliff came closer and closer, until she hit something hard, and everything went black.

#waterfall memories #captain swan #killian jones #emma swan #captain swan fics #captain swan au #captain swan modern au #stacy's fics

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ink-and-lens · 8 months

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"I was supposed to be the envy of thousands of other college girls just like me all over America who wanted nothing more than to be tripping about in those same size seven patent leather shoes I'd bought in Bloomingdale's one lunch hour with a black patent leather belt and black patent leather pocket-book to match. And when my picture came out in the magazine the twelve of us were working on—drinking martinis in a skimpy, imitation silver-lamé bodice stuck on to a big, fat cloud of white tulle, on some Starlight Roof, in the company of several anonymous young men with all-American bone structures hired or loaned for the occasion—everybody would think I must be having a real whirl. Look what can happen in this country, they'd say. A girl lives in some out-of-the-way town for nineteen years, so poor she can't afford a magazine, and then she gets a scholarship to college and wins a prize here and a prize there and ends up steering New York like her own private car. Only I wasn't steering anything, not even myself." -sylvia plath, the bell jar

summer 2016

I love this quote but really hate how this drawing turned out.

#art #my art #progressproject #ink #sketchbook #traditional art #drawing #artists on tumblr #sylvia plath #the bell jar #burnout #literature #quotes

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homeformyheart · 3 years

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hopeless - m!raleigh carrera x mc (plat)

author’s note: i’m not sure if this fits into the same universe my other platinum fics take place in but i had fun with it. i hope you enjoy!

copyright: all characters owned by pixelberry studios. songs and lyrics owned by their respective creators. series/pairing: platinum – m!raleigh carrera x mc (cadence dorian); red carpet diaries cross-over – matt rodriguez x cadence dorian rating/warnings: 14+; swearing, descriptions of drinking, minor angst word count: 2.6k based on/prompt: “all you had to do was stay” by taylor swift / “secret love song pt ii” by little mix summary: news of cadence’s engagement makes raleigh and cadence revisit the way they left things.

hopeless

when cadence flew out to los angeles to secretly film music videos for her entire album, the last thing she expected was that she would get engaged. but here she was, in as private of a spot as one could find in the city of stars, with the matt rodriguez in front of her on one knee with a beautiful vintage-inspired octagonal diamond ring. no one was around except for a private photographer he hired so that they could control what made it to the press.

“cadence dorian, will you marry me?”

she knew what her answer should be. after all, her and raleigh had officially called it quits eight months ago. operative word being “officially.” it didn’t take long before she was introduced to matt when he was cast in her music video and raleigh’s label paired him off with some up-and-coming actress.

cadence fought to stay present and hoped that matt would think the tears forming in her eyes was because she was overwhelmed, when in reality, she was thinking back on the last time she spoke to raleigh.

6 months ago

“i don’t know if i can do this anymore,” cadence whispered. they had publicly broken up two months ago but were still carrying on in private whenever they could. “everytime i see you, a part of me dies a little more. all we have are these stolen moments, which won’t last once one of us has to go on tour again.”

those stolen moments included spending a few hours late at night in his bedroom a few nights a week, but whenever cadence struggled with feeling like she was a shameful secret, raleigh would cave and take her out as long as they both wore disguises. tonight was one such night and leave it to raleigh to find the one club in new york city that wouldn’t be packed with celebrities on a saturday night.

cadence saw raleigh’s grip on the steering wheel tighten as he drove them back to her apartment. her eyes welled up with tears and she let them fall down her face, ruining her makeup, as she sat silently in the passenger seat.

“don’t do this now, please. we had a nice time tonight, didn’t we?”

cadence pulled the long, curly-haired wig off her head and threw it onto the dash. “i want to hold you in the street, and kiss you on the dance floor. i should be able to shout it from the rooftops. why can’t it be like that?”

“cadence, you know it’s to protect you. you’re just starting out and i’m not going to ruin that for you… we— we can’t,” raleigh said, his throat tight and voice shaky as if he was afraid of where the conversation was going.

“i don’t want to live love like this. i don’t want to hide us away, constantly wondering if it will ever change,” cadence said sadly, drying her eyes with the back of her hands, ignoring the streaks of makeup now staining her skin.

raleigh pulled into the underground garage of her building and parked the car. he reached over to hold her hand in both of his and cadence felt a sob escape her.

“you mean the world to me, cadence. i want more than anything to show you off as my girlfriend, but we have to be careful for a while longer.” he gave her a dazzling smile, but she knew his heart wasn’t in it.

“i wish we could be like that, raleigh. but it’s obvious that it won’t happen and i can’t keep going on like this. i’m sorry,” cadence sobbed, pulling her hand from his and trying to take deep breaths to calm herself down.

cadence stepped out of the car and toward the elevators as raleigh looked on in stunned silence. she didn’t look back because she knew if she did, she’d want to run right back to him.

“cadence?”

she was brought back to the moment by the sound of matt’s voice and all she could do was nod and smile and let the rest of her tears “of joy” stream down her face as matt wrapped his arms around her and spun her around.

* * * * * raleigh looked out the window of his penthouse apartment with a glass of mezcal in his hand. against his better judgment, he scanned tabloid headlines earlier that day when a photo of cadence caught his eye. the photos made it look like she was cozying up to matt rodriguez in los angeles. raleigh prided himself on being around long enough in the industry that he could spot a tabloid relationship in two seconds, but there was something about how cadence looked in those photos that made him pause.

it was clear she was having fun and enjoying herself in the photos. he recognized the look on her face when she was mid-laugh and the cheek-hurting smile she had on reminded him of the beginning of their tabloid relationship over a year and a half ago now. but even back then, raleigh knew there was something special about cadence, something that he wanted to be real, something that made him blur the lines that defined his fake relationships in the past.

he looked at his watch and knew he needed to head out if he was going to make it to the event at a reasonable time. he knew cadence would be there and while he was fine with their recent game of avoiding each other at public events, he needed to run into her tonight. he gulped down the rest of his drink and walked out of his apartment. time to get some answers.

* * * * * his eyes zeroed in on cadence the second she walked into the room. she was wearing a gorgeous gold dress that no doubt was made for her given how it fit her every curve perfectly and showed off her shoulders and collarbone. raleigh felt his body temperature rise as he pictured ripping her hair out of its pinned updo and sucking at the sensitive spots on her neck and collarbone that he knew so well.

either he had been staring for too long or cadence sensed his presence because she looked over in his direction. they locked eyes and it was as if the entire room faded away; raleigh held her gaze, almost daring her to break eye contact first. which, she did, but not before she flashed him a look that he couldn’t quite place – apologetic? regret? embarrassment? whatever it was, it fled her features faster than he could blink. he wasn’t given any time to think about it as the tinkling sound of utensil against glass somehow seemed to drown out the conversations around him.

he looked around quickly and didn’t see any food so where the fuck did people get utensils? and more importantly, why didn’t he have a drink in his hand yet? not that he was eager to join in what was inevitably a toast to the couple of the hour.

“if i could have everyone’s attention,” the host of the party spoke over the din, smiling warmly. raleigh didn’t miss the way matt held out his arm toward cadence or the way she tucked hers into the crook of his elbow seamlessly while looking up at him with that beautiful smile radiating off her face.

“cadence and i want to thank all of you for coming out to celebrate our engagement.”

raleigh tuned matt out for the rest of the toast and looked at cadence incredulously. he glanced down at her hand that was wrapped around matt’s arm and could make out a glittering diamond ring on her finger. how had he not noticed that? and more importantly, how could cadence not have given him a heads up? he had assumed the relationship was for publicity and that somehow, when her career was more established, they would find their way back together.

he watched as cadence waved to the crowd before walking up the steps to the makeshift stage and seating herself behind the sleek black baby grand piano. raleigh was mostly sure that his jaw hadn’t dropped and his eyes hadn’t widened, but he was still too stunned to check.

“people like you always want back the love they gave away,” cadence started singing, her soulful voice ringing clearly through the speakers, “and people like me wanna believe you, when you say you’ve changed.”

raleigh had heard this song several times already, it was cadence’s number one single off her upcoming album, which he presumed had plenty of references to their relationship. but he didn’t care. the only thing he had ever truly wanted in his life besides his freedom from sunset skatepark was sitting up on that stage singing her heart out.

the room broke out into loud applause and cadence bowed before stepping off the stage. raleigh felt his feet propel him toward her and barely registered that he was standing in front of her until she looked up and said his name.

“raleigh?”

“can we talk?” he asked. she nodded and he followed her to a dressing room just outside the ballroom and locked the door behind him.

cadence crossed her arms and looked at him expectantly. “what did you want to talk about?”

raleigh gave her a long, scrutinizing look. “i guess congratulations are in order. i would’ve appreciated a heads up.”

“we’re not in a relationship anymore, raleigh, you made sure of that. i didn’t realize we still owed things to each other,” cadence snapped, eyes blazing.

“cadence, you know that’s not fair. you know i care about you and was trying to protect you,” raleigh hated that he was pleading.

“i didn’t ask you to protect me, i asked you to be with me. you had me in the palm of your hand, raleigh.”

raleigh’s fingers itched to reach out and hold her close to him, to have his body envelop hers in that way where she fit so naturally, it made you wonder if his body was made to hold hers. “i figured we’d end up together again, once your career was more established.”

cadence blinked in surprise and her eyes softened. raleigh had never given her any indication that he had thought that far ahead regarding their future, at least not seriously anyway. “oh, raleigh. i think it’s hopeless. we just weren’t meant to work out,” she sighed and walked past him to open the door.

“do you love him?” raleigh asked quietly. he glanced away once before looking at her, an almost imperceptible sign that gave away the fact that he was nervous. cadence knew this sign well and a sharp pain and sense of longing tugged at her heart.

“of course, i’m marrying him,” she replied, dropping her gaze. he was looking at her so intensely, she felt like he would see right through her. she turned around and walked out the door.

raleigh followed her and turned her back around to face him. “no, look me in the eye and tell me that you love him,” raleigh demanded firmly, grabbing her chin gently and lilting her face up so she was looking up at him.

“raleigh, i—”

“cadence, babe? there’s someone i want you to meet,” matt called out from behind her, cutting her off.

she gave her best apologetic look to raleigh and said, “i better go.”

as she turned around, he grabbed her hand gently and whispered in her ear, “you haven’t answered my question yet.”

cadence chose to ignore him as she followed matt to the other side of the room, toward his hollywood friends, all of whom she had met before. they ducked behind the group inconspicuously.

“are you okay? things looked a bit tense,” matt asked softly once he was sure that his friends were effectively blocking cadence from raleigh’s view.

5 months ago

“are you okay? you look a bit tense,” matt said, his tone friendly and free of judgment, which cadence appreciated.

“my publicist wants us to be in a fake relationship. i’m just tired of that sort of thing and thought she’d be a little more understanding since it hasn’t been that long since my last relationship ended.”

matt looked at her thoughtfully. “i gathered that most of the songs we filmed these music videos for were about at least one past relationship, but they were all about the same guy, weren’t they?”

cadence nodded, somewhat grateful that she was feeling too down to feel embarrassed that matt figured out she was still pining for raleigh.

“well, why don’t we try dating for real? it might help you move on and we’d still give our publicists the public relationship they want,” matt suggested. “and who knows? if everything goes well, we can even get engaged.”

cadence was surprised at the sincerity in matt’s voice. she tilted her head as she considered what he was really suggesting. “that would definitely catch everyone’s attention. okay, let’s do it.”

“i’m fine. mission accomplished,” she said, giving him a half-hearted smile.

“it’s not over until it’s over,” matt said, caressing his thumb over the diamond on her finger. “but maybe it’s time to make it official.”

cadence wrapped her arms around him and let herself be comforted by matt’s strong, warm body. “thanks matt. i’ll see you later.”

raleigh watched cadence make her way to the exit before following as quickly as he could. he meant it when he said he was going to get answers. by the time he made it outside, she was nowhere in sight. but he wasn’t going to give up. he flagged down the nearest cab and gave them instructions to her apartment.

when he arrived, he made his way to her unit and hesitated for a beat in front of her door. did he really want to do this? hear that she was in love with another man and was planning on marrying someone that was not him? did he no longer have a chance; was it really hopeless? raleigh lowered his hand briefly as he thought through a scenario where she was lost to him forever.

he let himself wallow for barely a minute before shaking his head angrily. cadence owed him a clear answer. and he at least owed her the truth about his feelings. he knocked twice and pressed his ear to the door. her apartment had a fairly thin door and he could only hear dead air. she probably hadn’t gotten home yet. raleigh took off his jacket and made himself comfortable on the floor. he would wait for however long it took.

cadence looked out the window of the cab as it approached raleigh’s brooklyn neighborhood. she felt a wave of nostalgia come over her at the familiar street lamps and buildings they passed. once they arrived, she quickly ducked inside the building and made her way to the elevator. there were two penthouse units on the top floor and cadence stood outside raleigh’s, suddenly wishing she had changed out of the ridiculous glittery gold dress and heels into something more casual. she steeled herself and held her chin up as she knocked on the door. after a beat, she knocked again, louder, just in case he left and went home after their brief interaction earlier than night. she hadn’t seen him leave the event and figured she might have to wait. she bunched up the skirt of her dress so she could sit on the fabric and took off her heels, sighing with relief. now all she had to do was wait.

* * * * * mentions: @raleigh-edward; @dulceghernandez; @thegreentwin; @kat-tia801; @otherworldlypresents; @brycesgirl; @robintora;

#reposting for new blog #choices platinum #choices #pb choices #playchoices #choices fanfic #choices fanfics #playchoices fanfictin #raleigh carrera #cadence dorian #matt rodriguez #raleigh carrera x mc #raleigh x mc #raleigh carrera x cadence dorian #raleigh x cadence #not twc #my writing #my choices fics

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thestarkerisobvious · 3 years

Text

Ghosting You Chapter 13 and 14

my amazing art by @mrstarksbaby

The Previous Chapters Are Here

WARNINGS: drug use, rape jokes

Chapter 13: Peter – Jim Nelson

and

Chapter 14: Tony -- Make Sure You Don’t See Jim Nelson Again * * *

Chapter 13: Peter - Jim Nelson

But Aunt May wasn’t having it. She had errands that had to be run and Peter was the one to run them - or explain why. And since he couldn’t explain why, he had to come up with another plan. But with a little application of his brain he came up with a plan.

It took quite a bit of talking to get Jim to come to him, but in the end Peter pulled it off. He met his friend down by the parking garage and led him to the car. He tried to distract Jim from the fact that he had a private parking place, with his name on it, by pulling out every dirty joke he knew that Jim hadn’t heard. In the end he decided that was one secret he wasn’t going to be able to keep. Oh well. Maybe Jim would believe Aunt May had bought it after she received a promotion or something.

Just as he hoped, FRIDAY didn’t make an appearance with Jim in the car. After he ran May’s two errands they had the afternoon to themselves. They drove

around New York all day doing absolutely nothing. He even drove Jim to Columbia to show him a few sights that he knew (As if all that were really happening, as if Columbia were a real place, as if August were a real month.) He tried to steer the talk away from drugs, he knew the AI was listening, hoping there would be nothing but a few vague plans for an unspecified date, all told in a joking manner, easily written off later as not-serious-obviously.

That was, until Jim pulled out his stash and raised an eyebrow.

They were parked under a shady tree when Peter realized that conversation had to end, and had to end right then and there.

That’s why they kissed while sitting in Peter’s car under the shade tree amid the summer students of Columbia. Peter murmured against Jim’s mouth to put the stash away for another time, that he wasn’t interested in making out with a bug-eyed giggly airhead. Jim tried to argue but found it impossible with Peter’s tongue in his mouth. Finally he tucked the subject of the not-conversation back into his sock and gave in with a smile. Peter smiled back (although inwardly he groaned, because this meant he was committed.) Still, things could be worse.

Making out with Jim in his new car under a shade tree on the Columbia campus, Peter was able to forget about the AI altogether.

Chapter 14: Tony -- Make Sure You Don’t See Jim Nelson Again

“FRIDAY, what’s he doing RIGHT NOW!?” Tony growled, pacing angrily in front of the windows, looking down at a city he wasn’t sure he wanted to return to. But Peter’s activity lately was pressing his hand.

“You asked me not to give you direct surveillance, boss, unless Peter was using drugs. He is not using drugs at the moment and giving you that information would be direct surveillance.”

“I know what I said, I said it! And now I’m saying this. Let me know what’s going on in that car with that other kid.”

FRIDAY actually sighed. “Boss, you said that Peter deserves his privacy, the right to make his own mistakes, up to a certain point. That point has not been reached. He is not taking drugs.”

“Then what the hell is he doing parked in the car with that kid for so long?” He paused and shook his head. “Are they fucking?”

“No, boss.”

“So he’s sitting in a car, making out with his drug dealer. Like that’s an acceptable thing to do. Which leads to… fucking his drug dealer. Hell no!”

It took a few minutes and a few phone calls and a few discrete wire transfers.

***

Peter was in the car, under the tree, making out with Jim hot and heavy. Steaming up the windows. Didn’t hear the car doors lock as his senses were all quite involved in what was going on with their lips and their hands and their mouths. But he did notice the car starting, putting itself in gear, and driving on its own.

No matter what Peter did, the car would not respond to his verbal commands. The manual controls were dead.

“I’m sorry, Peter,” FRIDAY said in a voice that didn’t sound at all sorry. “I’m under command to tell you that you are given two choices. Agree to no longer see Jim Nelson and stop using drugs immediately, or I will drive to a street corner known for drug sales, where three undercover police will make sure you don’t see Jim Nelson again. They are under instruction that you are not to be arrested. And the entire process from arrest to trial to conviction for possession with the intent to distribute will make certain that any mention of your name that he may make is not recorded or believed.”

She paused for a moment before continuing. “And he will get the maximum penalty of 20 years,” she says, as if repeating the statement. “Your drug use stops tonight or cute little Jimmy will be hoping he doesn’t drop the soap.”

She spoke over him as he argued, her inflections changing back to normal. “Will I be dropping Jim off at home or on the corner, Peter? I’m sorry, but your self-destructive habits can’t be allowed. My protocols are set only to monitor them and other dangerous activities. Anything else is not acted upon or reported.”

#Ghosting You #Starker #Peter Parker/Tony Stark #Von And I Write Together #von--gelmini #Angst with a happy ending

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cutie1365 · 4 years

Text

A Kid from Queens Part 20

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Info: CA: Civil War Era. Tony Stark enlists his daughter to find the web slinging spider in Queens.

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: Language

A/N: For my sweet, sweet anon- Happy Birthday my love! This is for you, as you wish.

Any and all feedback is much appreciated!

Masterlist linked in my bio. Taglist in the reblog.

- - - - - 🕷 - - - - -

With the gala a little more than a week away, you began to make your preparations. You’d already gotten your dress and had it fitted with your tailor. That left Peter. It wouldn’t be a stretch for you to assume that he’d never been to a gala before. Meaning most likely, he also didn’t have a suit. Or one that wasn’t a hand-me-down.

Of course, you’d already picked out the perfect Tom Ford black suit for him. You were the one that invited him and wanted him to come, the least you could do is get him a nice suit that he can wear for years to come. For that to happen, it would have to be tailored to perfection, and luckily you knew just the place.

Yes, you already had all of his measurements from his Spider-Man suit so you could just give them that, but where’s the fun in that? Everyone deserves a private audience with the best tailor in New York at least once in their life. The thrill of almost being impaled with tiny pins is completely worth the reward of having something made so perfectly for you. To have an item that no other person owns, and only fits you. Your body gets to be the canvas that the garment is painted on.

You’d already made the appointment when you texted Peter.

Are you free after school today?

Nearly an hour later, in what you suspected was a passing period, you got a reply.

Yeah, why?

You smirked as you typed your response, you wanted this to be a surprise.

You’ll see ;)

Peter shook his head with a smile at your cryptic message, if he knew one thing, it was to always expect the unexpected from a Stark.

As the final bell rang, he leisurely made his way from his locker out to the entrance of the school. He walked absentmindedly, hands in his pockets before he looked up and his eyes grew wide.

On the street in front of the school, you were leaning against your convertible. Sunglasses on, arms crossed as Flash stood before you. Your body language was a clear indication that you weren’t amused with Flash’s feeble attempts to flirt with you.

As you looked up and your eyes met with Peter's, a smile spread across your face as you wiggled your fingers in a wave. Flash whipped around to see what, or rather who, had drawn your attention.

“Penis Parker, your ride’s here.” Flash teased as Peter approached the car. You slowly lifted your sunglasses to the top of your head.

“You know Flash,” You took a long breath, drawing out your words, “For a straight guy, you really love to talk about Peter’s dick.”

Laughter erupted around you from the small crowd of Flash’s cronies that had gathered to watch him shoot his shot with a Stark. You lowered your sunglasses as you held your smirk, Flash’s face turned beet red and he stormed off with a huff.

“I think that was the greatest thing I’ve ever witnessed.” Peter beamed, a giddy smile on his face. You walked around the hood of the car and hopped back into the driver seat.

“I was just stating a fact,” You chuckled, “Hop in.”

Peter did as instructed, closing the door behind him. You kicked the car into drive and sped off.

“Did Flash ask why you were here?” Peter asked curiously, and you nodded in response.

“I told him Tony Stark needs Peter’s help on a project for his internship and asked me to pick him up right away,” You smirked, “That shut him up.”

Peter chuckled, imagining the look on Flash’s face when he realized that Peter wasn’t making any of this Stark Internship stuff up, and that Tony Stark actually knew who he was.

“So where are we really headed? Your text was very mysterious.” He smiled, you turned to face him once you’d reached the stop light.

You lifted your glasses and smiled at him, your eyes meeting. You couldn’t believe the two of you were here like this. A month ago you weren’t even speaking, and as much as that broke your heart it was worth it. The hiding and sneaking around was worth it to be here now with him, driving around New York with the top down, not caring who saw you.

You reached to take his hand, giving it a squeeze. Peter leaned closer to you and you met him halfway, your lips meeting for a moment in a chaste kiss.

A honk from the car behind you forced you apart as the light turned green.

“Let’s get a move on!” The driver yelled.

“We’re having a moment here!” You yelled back, earning a middle finger in response as you took your foot off the break.

“I love this fucking city,” You laughed, and Peter joined in.

“Are you gonna answer my question or am I supposed to guess?” Peter smirked, his hand still in yours.

“Queens.” You answer, glancing at Peter and seeing him raise a brow, “We’re going to a gala, and you need a suit. We’re going to my tailor.”

“So does that mean I get to see your dress?” He wiggles his brows, causing you to laugh.

“No, it’s a surprise.” You shook your head, using the heel of your hand to turn the steering wheel, taking you onto the Queensboro bridge. The first place you’d met Peter. If your father hadn’t enlisted you to find the webslinger, you would have never met him. Or maybe you would have. Maybe you were destined to meet and no matter what path you followed it would always lead to him.

“Where is this gala again?” Peter asked after a moment, he had been glancing out the car at the bridge. You wondered if he was also thinking about your chance encounter.

“Inside Belvedere Castle in Central Park.” You answer, it had recently reopened but you’ve never been to an event inside. It normally housed exhibits or small private parties. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t excited, and a little nervous. You didn’t want anything to go wrong, you needed a good night, especially considering what had happened last time. You knew you’d be safe with Peter by your side, but you just wanted one smooth night with no heroes required.

“Cool,” Peter nodded, having never been there himself. How he got wrapped up in a life of billionaires and crime fighting, he’d never know.

“So I figured we could get some food after the fitting? And maybe bring May some, because we need to do some schmoozing.” You said, causing Peter to raise a brow.

“Why?” He asked, curiously.

“Soo... they always book rooms in a hotel near the venue for after the gala. They collect the most donations at the bar of the afterparty and this year they picked The Plaza. They gave me a room, so I thought we could stay there, order room service, kinda have a mini vacation.” You explained, hoping this wouldn’t be too much. A gala is one thing, but spending the night in a big fancy hotel is another.

“That sounds amazing!” Peter beamed.

“But,” You said, drawing out the word, “I don’t want May to kill me, so we kinda need her blessing.”

“Yeah that’s a good idea. I don't think she’ll mind.” He said casually.

“I’m prepared with more shoes if she says no,” You laughed, but you weren’t kidding.

“I’m sure that won’t be necessary.” Peter chuckled, shaking his head.

“I don’t know... If my son asked to spend a night in a fancy hotel with his girlfriend I’d be a little hesitant.” You shrugged.

That was the first time Peter had heard you refer to yourself as his girlfriend, and that was the first time you’d said it outloud. You liked the way it sounded, you could get used to that.

- - - - - 🕷 - - - - -

After a fitting full of laughter and you shamelessly checking out Peter’s ass, the two of you were sitting at the kitchen table eating dinner and chatting.

“Hey guys,” May says as she walks in the door, “Oo that smells good.”

“We got you some.” You smile, pointing back to the box on the counter.

“Aw, you guys.” She smiled as she made her way to the kitchen, ruffling Peter’s hair on the way.

“How was work?” Peter asked Aunt May while he tried to flatten his hair.

“Good, good. What are you kids up to?” She asked, taking a bite.

“We were just talking about that charity gala I told you about.” Peter said.

“Oh right, the childhood cancer one.” She nodded, chewing.

“Yeah, so Y/N was just telling me that they gave us a room in the Plaza for that night, but we wanted to make sure that was ok with you first.” He said, and this was the moment of truth.

“I don’t know Peter, let me think about it.” May said, just as you’d suspected.

Peter looked at you, worry evident in his eyes, he wasn’t expecting her to say that. You shook your head in a “don’t worry, I got this, follow my lead” kinda way.

You picked up your phone, and stared at it for a moment, forming your plan.

“Oh shoot,” You muttered, pretending to read and scroll through something on your phone.

“What is it?” Peter asked, looking over your shoulder, seeing the screen was black as you continued to tap on it.

“I forgot I had booked a salon and spa appointment for tomorrow but I have a meeting with the Robotics Board upstate,” You explained, turning and speaking directly to Peter.

“Can you get it moved?” He asked, playing along.

“No, it’s nonrefundable,” You shook your head, and went back to swiping on the blank screen before pretending like a brilliant idea just popped in your head, “Aunt May, why don’t you go?”

“Me?” She asked, surprised.

“I mean, it will just go to waste otherwise and I can’t make it. We’re starting trials on new nano-tech prototypes so it’s probably going to take all day.” You explained. If this whole engineering and CEO thing didn’t work out, you might have to go into acting, because you were killing this.

“Well... I guess if it’s gonna go to waste. I haven’t been to the spa in forever.” May smiled. Hook, line, sinker.

“Perfect, problem solved!” You smiled, and quickly changed the subject back to Peter’s day at school to not seem too suspicious.

Now we wait.

- - - - - 🕷 - - - - -

The three of you talked for hours, about life, about school, about work. It felt good, normal even. Like this was something you could get used to. Peter and his Aunt accepted you so quickly into their world and their lives. You felt like you’ve been doing this for years, like you’ve known each other for years. They didn’t treat you like the daughter of a billionaire, they just treated you like Y/N.

Before you knew it, it was late and about time for you to head home. When you were with Peter time seemed to fly by. You were gathering your things when May spoke up.

“When’s this gala again?” She asked Peter, and you knew your plan was coming to fruition.

“Friday.” He answered.

“The Plaza you said?” She asked, and the two of you nodded in response.

She sighed, knowing you’d both be safe there and it was close to the venue.

“Ok.” She nodded and both of your faces lit up. It worked!

“But no alcohol.” She pointed at both of you with a stern face.

“No alcohol.” You and Peter repeated in unison, nodding along. That wouldn’t be a problem, you’d learned your lesson from last time you were drunk around Peter.

“No drugs.” She maintained her protective stare.

“No drugs.” You both nodded.

So far the bar was pretty low. If it were your father he’d be saying ‘No hacking government agencies, no lazers, and don’t do anything I would do’ which really took a lot off the list.

“And use protection.” May said finally, your eyes going wide. Peter dropped his head into his hands.

“May....” He groaned in embarrassment. You hoped your cheeks weren’t betraying you and turning a bright red. You never expected that to come out of May’s mouth.

“I’m just saying. You’re both adults, I just want you to be careful.” She answered, and you smiled and nodded awkwardly.

“I’ll um, I’ll walk you out.” Peter pointed to the door, and you followed him.

Peter was silent on the trip from the apartment to the elevator.

“Told you we’d need the spa day,” You smirked, trying to cheer him up. He still looked mortified by May’s comment.

“You know, my father would have said something much worse, so you shouldn’t be embarrassed.” You tried, comfortingly grabbing onto his arm.

“I know, I just... I don’t want you to think that’s the only reason I want to go. Especially after what Thomas said-” Peter began to ramble, but you cut him off.

“Hey, hey. I know you Peter. I know you’re not like that. I don’t want you to worry about that. We’re in no rush. It’ll happen when the time is right.” You said, still surprised that clearly what Thomas had said was weighing on him so heavily. You knew he’d said it just to get under Peter’s skin, but you couldn’t let him win.

“Ok.” He nodded, seeming to be convinced by your words as the two of you stepped off the elevator onto the first floor.

“Now we can have a relaxing night out where you don’t have to lie about where you’re going.” You smiled, trying to lighten the mood as you were approaching the door.

“Yeah you’re right, I’m sorry.” Peter shook his head for even bringing up Thomas. You grabbed his arm once more, stopping him from opening the door. He turned back to you, and furrowed his brows slighting in anticipation.

“There’s no need to apologize for caring, Peter. It’s sweet.” You assured him, and he smiled. He bent down to kiss you before leading you out to your car.

“Text me when you get home safe.” Peter instructed as he opened your car door for you, a true gentleman.

“I will, I’ll see you Friday. I actually do have a meeting for the Robotics Board tomorrow. Now I have to go book May a salon and spa appointment. Maybe I’ll throw in a manicure for good measure.” You rambled as you got into the car and started the engine, lowering the window as Peter closed the door.

“You’re gonna spoil her.” He teased, leaning into the open window.

“Who else am I going to spoil? Unless you want some Jimmy Choos and a mani pedi?” You teased back, making Peter chuckle.

“Drive safe.” He kissed you once more before backing up back onto the sidewalk.

“Bye.” You smiled with a wink before pulling out onto the street.

Once you had returned home and gotten into your pjs you raised your phone to take a selfie. Snapping the picture, you sent it to Peter to let him know you’d made it home safe.

Proof of life ;)

Almost immediately you saw the three flashing dots appear as Peter typed his reply.

Cute pjs, goodnight, don’t let the spiders bite.

You chuckled, shaking your head at your phone screen.

I don’t think that’s how the saying goes lol, stay safe on patrols tonight x

Pulling your blanket over yourself as you settled into bed, you heard your phone ding.

I always am ;)

You shook your head, that boy was going to be the death of you.

- - - - - 🕷 - - - - -

Any and all feedback is greatly appreciated!

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ficsilike-reblogged · 4 years

Text

Sunshine City: Four

A/N: We are nearing the end of this little story, my loves. Thank you to everyone who read, liked, and/or reblogged the last chapter. I adore you.

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x F!Reader (No Y/N)

Word Count: 2.8k

Rating For This Chapter: T for blood, injuries, a K*ss or two, my undying love of tropes and cliches

Catch up on previous chapters here!

London was a beautiful mix of sparkling skyscrapers and bygone brick and mortar. It reminded her of New York on one street and some sort of historical romance novel on the next. The Tube was much more proficient than the subway and Bela was fond of the fact that Harry let her take him along to the office whenever she wasn’t on assignment.

But it still felt…like she was just visiting.

“Mordred!”

She pivoted in her chair to see Roxy—Agent Lancelot—walk into her office. The young agent had been thought dead for a handful of weeks after Kingsman’s old headquarters had exploded, but she had survived. A little injured, more than a little confused, but quickly back to normal after Eggsy discovered her in the nearest hospital. She couldn’t remember her name but she did remember how to throw men over her shoulder like it was nothing. (The nurses were not a fan.)

But Roxy was now back on her very-capable feet and usually out in the field.

“Lancelot,” she replied with a quirk of an eyebrow.

“Your cowboy has arrived in that atrocious car.” But a teasing smile was pulling at Roxy’s lips as she said it, letting Sunny know this would not be the end of their conversation. Roxy had almost instantly become aware of the strange relationship between Whiskey and the former Statesman agent and found it endlessly entertaining. While Eggsy was tending to his new duties as a prince of Sweden, Roxy had readily stepped into his role of friend to Sunny when Ginger was busy.

“He is not my cowboy.” She rose to her feet and Bela poked his little head out from under the desk where he’d been napping on an embroidered pillow, a Boxing Day gift from Merlin last year.

Roxy laughed, a full-belly laugh that had the other woman frowning. “You might want to tell him that. When he saw Tristan at the door he said, and I quote: ‘tell Sunny her cowboy is here.’ So, I do not believe he knows he isn’t your cowboy.”

She was able to keep her face neutral as Roxy’s smirk continued to grow but that did not mean her stomach did not flip and fill with butterflies. “I’ll let him know, Lancelot.”

Roxy laughed and nodded before excusing herself.

“At least he didn’t honk this time,” she muttered to herself. The pair had been assigned a mission and she expected him later that day.

The stately manor house just an hour outside London was the newest headquarters for the agency and usually agents and their American counterparts would use the underground bullet train under the (also recently rebuilt) tailor shop. It would take only a handful of minutes.

But apparently Whiskey had to be…different.

She straightened her shoulders and walked toward the door and Bela followed, matching his short stride to her longer one as she made her way out of her office, through the ornate and marble halls, and out toward the manicured lawn and front courtyard.

And there was Whiskey in his Bronco. His head was tilted back so it could catch the warmth of the infrequent sun and his stupid cowboy hat was still on his head. Her stomach tightened at the sight of the stretch of his neck. God. She still had it bad, didn’t she? Would the sight of someone’s neck make anyone (aside from her pathetically-in-love self) short of breath?

Their relationship hadn’t really changed since Tilde and Eggsy’s wedding. Well, that is what she told herself anyway. Their emails had progressed to whispered telephone calls about their days and missions and she had lost count how many times she had fallen asleep to the sound of Whiskey all-but crooning in her ear.

But…friends did that. Right?

They were friends.

The scratching of Bela’s little paws against the stone of the front steps grabbed his attention and his head lazily turned to the side as a familiar smile pushed up his lips, displaying the one dimple on his right cheek. “Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes, Sunshine?”

She tried halfheartedly to hide her smile as she slowed to a stop and leaned against the passenger-side door. “I’m Agent Mordred here, Whiskey.”

“Nope. You’ll always be my Sunshine.” He opened his door and Bela leapt up into his lap just long enough for the older agent to scratch behind his ear and then into the back seat where the corgi promptly made himself at home. Whiskey leaned over and opened the door for her and patted the leather of seat, smile never fading. “C’mon. We can talk on our way back to London.”

She rolled her eyes but slid in. As she pulled the door closed, she said, “we could have taken the train.”

“It don’t like it. The darn thing moves too fast.”

She scoffed with another smile. “I don’t believe anything moves too fast for you.”

As Whiskey started the engine he looked at her, head dipping so he could pin her with his stare over the edge of his gold-rimmed aviators. “On the contrary, Sunny. I like going slow.” He enunciated each word with that southern drawl and let his fingers slide around the worn leather of the steering wheel, nice and slow as they trailed over the stitching. “Take my time. Make it worth it when I finally reach a destination.”

Her head snapped toward the windshield as heat curled in her stomach and then strangled the next breath from her lungs. “Inappropriate.”

But he laughed and reached over to pat at her thigh and squeezed just above her knee before gravel spit beneath his tires when he pressed down on the gas.

The pair did actually speak about the mission as the unusually clear autumn day provided a perfect backdrop for their drive. “Why do we always get put on the nuclear waste missions? It is like Champ and Harry don’t like us.” She said with a huff.

“Maybe it’s our specialty, Sunshine.”

She reached out and smacked at his arm. The mission was a little more involved than Vegas. It involved a pair of couples from blue blood families who had turned to buying and selling anything and everything a would-be terrorist or dictator would need in order to keep their luxurious lifestyles. Merlin had managed to uncover the plans of an American couple about to meet with the dealers at a gala at one of the privately-owned castles in Scotland. While Tequila managed to neutralize the American couple, she and Whiskey would be taking their place, hopefully to stop them and uncover where they were getting their supply.

She gave him directions toward the tailor shop (where they could pick up a few gadgets and supplies) once they reached the right borough and laughed when he had trouble parallel parking. But after finally managing to squeeze the Bronco into a space definitely designed for something smaller, he darted around to open her door as she pulled Bela from his napping spot in the back.

She murmured a thank you as she let Bela lick at her cheek. Whiskey hummed and scratched behind Bela’s ear before placing a hand at the small of her back as she led them up toward the gleaming glass door of the tailor shop.

It was all very…domestic, in a stereotypical “southern gentleman” sort of way and she hated how much she liked it. But she had given up on actually hating anything he did. Especially when he smiled at her like that.

Edinburgh was magnificent. And Kingsman had made sure their agent and visiting Statesman were comfortable in a luxury hotel room and an extra agent to act as their chauffeur for the evening, solidifying their image as a well-to-do couple with nefarious intentions.

The past handful of hours were spent going over the plan before separating to get ready. Her dress was from some Italian designer Roxy insisted would look good on her and fit her like a black, silk glove. The thigh-high slit just barely covered the holster she’d strapped around her thigh but hopefully the dangerously low neckline would distract anyone away from her legs. The false eyelashes gave her pause for a moment—and a few tears as she stabbed herself right in the eye a few times—but she managed to put on a face full of makeup and finished with a berry-tinted lip and a heavy hand of jasmine and leather perfume.

Missions like this always made her a bit nervous. No matter how many times she’d completed them easily, they always made her feel like a kid playing dress up and waiting for a scolding. She took a few breaths and then stepped out of the bathroom and into the suite. Whiskey was there, fixing the silver cufflinks in his classic and sharply cut, dark blue suit. The dying light of the sun was framing him and the next exhale stuttered in her lungs. It was going to be a long night.

Whiskey turned at the sound of her red-soled shoes on the floor and smiled. And, of course, his eyes dragged from her toes, up her legs, her stomach, her chest…and then stopped.

“My eyes are up here, boss,” she said with a snort.

His dark eyes finally lifted up to hers as his smile slipped to a smirk. “I ain’t your boss, Sunshine.”

And her stomach actually clenched at that and she had to take a moment to clear her throat and remember that they were on a mission. “That’s good. We’re supposed to be lovesick newlyweds, right?”

Whiskey’s mouth—god, how many times was she going to stare at his mouth tonight?—twisted to the side with a frown as he took a few steps toward her and gently grasped her left hand and brought it up to his lips, kissing the diamond-encrusted band on her finger before pressing her palm against his cheek with a sigh.

She let her thumb slide against his cheekbone for a moment, smelling his expensive cologne tickle her nose and the warmth of his hand over hers settled the nerves she felt.

“You look beautiful tonight. Truly.” He leaned forward to press his lips to her forehead before he squeezed the hand he had in his grasp and intertwined their fingers as he brought them down to his side. “An easy cover.” His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes as his watch beeped, letting them know it was time to go. “Let’s get these guys.”

And she let him tug her along with her heart in her throat.

The gala was luxurious in every sense of the word and the targets were so ostentatious that it was easy to spot them even if she hadn’t memorized their faces. Whiskey made easy work for introducing them as Mr. & Mrs. Jameson and making the targets laugh and trust them. She played the part of doting newlywed with no trouble and let herself enjoy it—as Whiskey seemed to be doing with how many times he deemed it necessary to hold her hand or press a kiss to her cheek or forehead, avoiding her lips with a joke, “she always hates it when I mess up her lipstick.” She would let her hand slip under his suit jacket as she leaned against his arm at the dinner table, feeling his steady heartbeat beneath her palm or push a smile to her lips whenever she had to lean in to whisper something in his ear about the security stationed around the room or how her Geiger counter, disguised as an opulent diamond tennis bracelet detected traces of radiation on the targets’ hands and feet. Especially on the woman’s—Alice—hands.

“Shall we talk shop in the gallery? I have heard they have a wonderful display of Mucha,” the man—Allan—said with a smile.

“I do adore Mucha,” she answered in return, tapping twice against Whiskey’s hand as it rested on her leg. Show time.

The pair of couples rose from their table and walked through the ball room and down a dimly lit hall toward the castle’s art gallery without much fanfare. In fact, she noticed that this whole ordeal didn’t have much fanfare at all. It was a wonder this couple had lasted this long without being taken down with how blatantly they spoke about their intentions. It was easy.

Too easy.

As soon as they stepped into the gallery, she noticed the ‘closed for maintenance’ signage. She was nearly leveled with a crack of a gun against the back of her head. The room swam for a moment and she stumbled but kept her footing and turned just in time to duck, dodging Allan as he tried to hit her again. She took a step back just enough to gain momentum before kicking out and slamming her stiletto heel into his chest.

It barely registered that Whiskey was busy handling Alice who had somehow produced a knife from god-knows-where and had managed to at least get him once with the amount of blood spilling across his white shirt.

But her attention was quickly brought back to Allan who was coughing, blood slipping from his lips as the he struggled to get to his feet. Her heel had punctured his chest. Oops. But the struggle was getting too loud. They couldn’t afford to be caught like this. It would ruin everything.

She stomped forward and grasped the sides of Allan’s head as he tried to stand and yanked. His body thudded to the ground just as Whiskey managed to sink a needle full of some yellow-tinted liquid into the side of Alice’s neck and she collapsed in his arms almost instantaneously.

The sound of approaching footsteps had them both scrambling. To hide the bodies (both of them were stuffed behind a statue in the corner). To clean up the blood (she grabbed Whiskey’s pocket square and made quick work of it all). There wasn’t time to make an escape. The thin beam of light from a flashlight was making its way down the hall, she could see it and tugged Whiskey toward her with steady hands.

“Don’t hate me.”

And then she pressed her lips to his and threw her arms around his neck, dragging him ever closer to hide the blood on his shirt.

Whiskey…could kiss. That was made abundantly clear with how easily he coaxed her lips apart to lick into her mouth, tasting of thousand-dollar-bottle champagne and mint. His warm hands grasped at her silk-covered hips and his face angled just the slightest bit so he could truly kiss her. Her hand shot into his hair on its own accord and mussed the carefully coifed locks. He groaned against her lips.

She could kiss him forever-

“Hey!”

They broke apart to see a disgruntled security officer standing in the gallery’s doorway.

“This area’s closed to the public.”

“Sorry man,” Whiskey drawled, keeping her close with a hand on her hip and her angled to keep his wound concealed, “just had to kiss my wife-”

“Do it somewhere else,” the man all but snarled before walking away.

She listened to his footsteps disappear before pushing out a soft laugh. Her heart was still racing. Her lips seemed to pulse in time with her heart and she licked them before she could stop herself, still tasting him. She quickly shot a message to the agent waiting outside that they had one body and one unconscious target to take care of before she stepped around the room, scrambling the security camera feeds with ease with the help of a small device Merlin had been particularly proud of.

She heard Whiskey walk up behind her but still jumped when his hands settled over her shoulders, a finger dragging under the strap of her dress and down her back. She shivered when she heard him chuckle against her throat, nose pressing against her pulse. Turning in his grip, she offered a small smile but didn’t pull away. She wasn’t sure when she would have him so close again. “Alice’ll be taken back to headquarters. Alan will be disposed of. Whoever set us up doesn’t have much time left.”

But Whiskey didn’t reply. His hands travelled up to carefully grasp at her face and he pressed a kiss to her lips—slow and sweet and perfect.

She pushed out a shaky breath as he pulled back and patted at his chest, mindful of the blood. “We are about to be in trouble if the guard comes back, Mr. Jameson,” she said, trying to save face.

“M’name’s Jack, Sunshine.”

“Jack,” she whispered back and she’d never liked a name more.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think!

Beautiful people who asked to be tagged: @spookyold-saintjm @honestlystop @paryl @fioccodineveautunnale @lackofhonor

#agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey imagine #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels imagine #agent whiskey #kingsman

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rockislandadultreads · 3 years

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Diverse Stories & Funny Laughs: a reading list

Boyfriend Material by Alexis Hall

Wanted: One (fake) boyfriend Practically perfect in every way Luc O'Donnell is tangentially--and reluctantly--famous. His rock star parents split when he was young, and the father he's never met spent the next twenty years cruising in and out of rehab. Now that his dad's making a comeback, Luc's back in the public eye, and one compromising photo is enough to ruin everything. To clean up his image, Luc has to find a nice, normal relationship...and Oliver Blackwood is as nice and normal as they come. He's a barrister, an ethical vegetarian, and he's never inspired a moment of scandal in his life. In other words: perfect boyfriend material. Unfortunately apart from being gay, single, and really, really in need of a date for a big event, Luc and Oliver have nothing in common. So they strike a deal to be publicity-friendly (fake) boyfriends until the dust has settled. Then they can go their separate ways and pretend it never happened. But the thing about fake-dating is that it can feel a lot like real-dating. And that's when you get used to someone. Start falling for them. Don't ever want to let them go.

Get a Life, Chloe Brown by Talia Hibbert

Chloe Brown is a chronically ill computer geek with a goal, a plan, and a list. After almost—but not quite—dying, she’s come up with seven directives to help her “Get a Life”, and she’s already completed the first: finally moving out of her glamorous family’s mansion. The next items? • Enjoy a drunken night out. • Ride a motorcycle. • Go camping. • Have meaningless but thoroughly enjoyable sex. • Travel the world with nothing but hand luggage. • And... do something bad. But it’s not easy being bad, even when you’ve written step-by-step guidelines on how to do it correctly. What Chloe needs is a teacher, and she knows just the man for the job. Redford ‘Red’ Morgan is a handyman with tattoos, a motorcycle, and more sex appeal than ten-thousand Hollywood heartthrobs. He’s also an artist who paints at night and hides his work in the light of day, which Chloe knows because she spies on him occasionally. Just the teeniest, tiniest bit. But when she enlists Red in her mission to rebel, she learns things about him that no spy session could teach her. Like why he clearly resents Chloe’s wealthy background. And why he never shows his art to anyone. And what really lies beneath his rough exterior…

Kaddish.com by Nathan Englander

Larry is an atheist in a family of orthodox Memphis Jews. When his father dies, it is his responsibility as the surviving son to recite the Kaddish, the Jewish prayer for the dead, every day for eleven months. To the horror and dismay of his mother and sisters, Larry refuses--thus imperiling the fate of his father's soul. To appease them, and in penance for failing to mourn his father correctly, he hatches an ingenious if cynical plan, hiring a stranger through a website called kaddish.com to recite the daily prayer and shepherd his father's soul safely to rest. This is Nathan Englander's freshest and funniest work to date--a satire that touches, lightly and with unforgettable humor, on the conflict between religious and secular worlds, and the hypocrisies that run through both. A novel about atonement; about spiritual redemption; and about the soul-sickening temptations of the internet, which, like God, is everywhere.

Everywhere You Don't Belong by Gabriel Bump

In this alternately witty and heartbreaking debut novel, Gabriel Bump gives us an unforgettable protagonist, Claude McKay Love. Claude isn’t dangerous or brilliant—he’s an average kid coping with abandonment, violence, riots, failed love, and societal pressures as he steers his way past the signposts of youth: childhood friendships, basketball tryouts, first love, first heartbreak, picking a college, moving away from home. Claude just wants a place where he can fit. As a young black man born on the South Side of Chicago, he is raised by his civil rights–era grandmother, who tries to shape him into a principled actor for change; yet when riots consume his neighborhood, he hesitates to take sides, unwilling to let race define his life. He decides to escape Chicago for another place, to go to college, to find a new identity, to leave the pressure cooker of his hometown behind. But as he discovers, he cannot; there is no safe haven for a young black man in this time and place called America. Percolating with fierceness and originality, attuned to the ironies inherent in our twenty-first-century landscape, Everywhere You Don’t Belong marks the arrival of a brilliant young talent.

A Star Is Bored by Byron Lane

A hilariously heartfelt novel about living life at full force, and discovering family when you least expect it, influenced in part by the author’s time as Carrie Fisher’s beloved assistant. Charlie Besson is about to have an insane job interview. His car is idling, like his life, outside the Hollywood mansion of Kathi Kannon. THE Kathi Kannon, star of stage and screen and People magazine’s worst dressed list. She needs an assistant. He needs a hero. Kathi is an icon, bestselling author, and an award winning actress, most known for her role as Priestess Talara in the iconic blockbuster sci-fi film. She’s also known for another role: crazy Hollywood royalty. Admittedly so. Famously so. Fabulously so. Charlie gets the job, and embarks on an odyssey filled with late night shopping sprees, last minute trips to see the aurora borealis, and an initiation to that most sacred of Hollywood tribes: the personal assistant. But Kathi becomes much more than a boss, and as their friendship grows, Charlie must make a choice. Will he always be on the sidelines of life, assisting the great forces that be, or can he step into his own leading role? Laugh-out-loud funny, and searingly poignant, Byron Lane's A Star is Bored is a novel that, like the star at its center, is enchanting and joyous, heartbreaking and hopeful.

You Had Me at Hola by Alexis Daria

Leading Ladies do not end up on tabloid covers. After a messy public breakup, soap opera darling Jasmine Lin Rodriguez finds her face splashed across the tabloids. When she returns to her hometown of New York City to film the starring role in a bilingual romantic comedy for the number one streaming service in the country, Jasmine figures her new “Leading Lady Plan” should be easy enough to follow—until a casting shake-up pairs her with telenovela hunk Ashton Suárez. Leading Ladies don’t need a man to be happy. After his last telenovela character was killed off, Ashton is worried his career is dead as well. Joining this new cast as a last-minute addition will give him the chance to show off his acting chops to American audiences and ping the radar of Hollywood casting agents. To make it work, he’ll need to generate smoking-hot on-screen chemistry with Jasmine. Easier said than done, especially when a disastrous first impression smothers the embers of whatever sexual heat they might have had. Leading Ladies do not rebound with their new costars. With their careers on the line, Jasmine and Ashton agree to rehearse in private. But rehearsal leads to kissing, and kissing leads to a behind-the-scenes romance worthy of a soap opera. While their on-screen performance improves, the media spotlight on Jasmine soon threatens to destroy her new image and expose Ashton’s most closely guarded secret.

#romance #fiction #diverse stories #diverse authors #reading recommendations #book recs #booklr #booklist #reading list #to read #tbr #library #public library #recommended reading #currently reading

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