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allegra-writes · 3 years

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"Bad Together"

Part I: Contact

Peter Parker x Reader

Teen and up

Warnings: language, UST.

"Baby, I'm preying on you tonight

Hunt you down, eat you alive

Just like animals"

Animals - Maroon 5

“Hey kid! Rough night? You look like shit…”

You sighed, turning away from your door to face your neighbour. Had it been anyone else, you would just have given them the finger and gotten inside your apartment. But not her. Not when she could have information for you.

“Gee, thanks Jess! You do know how to sweet talk a girl.”

The seemingly -deceptively- fragile brunette’s eyeroll could have rivaled your own signature one, as she kicked away from the wall and crossed the hallway in your direction.

“As if sweet talking would work on you…”

Despite your exhaustion and bad mood, you managed to munster a small sad smile as your mind wandered unbidden to another time, to what felt like another life.

And to a boy with warm brown eyes and even warmer skin.

"You'd be surprised…"

Jessica raised a questioning eyebrow, but you just shook your head.

"I have your payment, if that's what you're looking for…"

You said, changing the subject. Her face fell, causing your heart to drop to your stomach. You knew that look. The regret in her green eyes, the pity. You knew what she was going to say even before she opened her mouth. It wasn't really surprising after all: fourteen months without any clues, without any new developments or witnesses? She wanted to drop the case.

"Listen, kid-"

"No" you cut her off, your voice breaking no arguments, "whatever you're going to say, I won't accept it. I pay you, and you keep on looking for my sister. That's how this works. Let's not fuck this beautiful friendship of ours up."

You added, only partly sarcastic. You were perfectly aware that, as closed off and damaged as you both were, you were probably the closest thing to a friend either of you had.

And, for her part, Jessica knew that, if she didn't do the dirty work for you, you would be the one crawling up vents and climbing up balconies, sliding your way into seedy bars and even seedier alleys. You were stubborn like that. And truth be told, she had grown a little protective of you.

She pursed her lips, the wheels turning inside her head.

"Well then," she finally proposed, "What about you pay me when I actually find something worth paying for?"

It took your drowsy brain a moment to process her words. You were ashamed of the moisture that found its way to your eyes, the knot in your throat that didn't allow you to let out anything more than a weak "Jessica" as a reply. But you were too worn out to be able to keep the emotions at bay. It had been too long since anyone had shown you that type of kindness, gratefulness was not something you were used to feeling.

"I'm not giving up on the case," she promised, "but I'm not taking your money anymore. At least not until I deserve it."

She was telling the truth, you knew her enough to be able to tell that. If anything, she was going to work even harder to try and get the investigation moving.

"Thank you."

You really meant it.

"Don't mention it” she shrugged, downplaying it, like every good deed she made. "Now get inside and get some sleep. You look dead."

You did roll your eyes at that, missing her affectionate smirk as you disappeared through the door, muttering a laconic. "Yes, mom."

The darkness and quiet that greeted you inside your apartment felt like a soothing balm to your over stimulated mind, a much needed respite after your long, adrenaline filled evening. That was why you didn't even bother to turn the lights on as you let your backpack fall anywhere on the tile floor, stepping out of your sneakers and pulling your shirt over your head.

The cold early morning breeze sent goosebumps along your skin, bringing your attention to the open window.

You froze. You were always very careful not to let any windows open, Hell's Kitchen was a tough neighbourhood for a spoiled cat like your Selina to be out and about.

A flash of movement at the corner of your eye was all you needed before your senses went haywire again, instinct kicking in as you jumped high in the air to twirl and land a kick to the back of whoever was in your apartment. But the intruder was expecting it, dodging just in time and turning around to block your punch. Getting a hold of your wrist, the dark figure twisted and pulled you forwards until you fell, back flushed against his chest as he wrapped his arms around yours in a vice-like grip, effectively immobilizing you.

"Easy there, Smokey." A way too familiar voice breathed against your ear, "you're going to hurt yourself."

You stopped struggling against his grasp. Right. Of course it was him.

"Peter?"

His grip grew tighter for a moment, before letting go.

"Hello, Y/N."

Just like that, it all came back to you: The memories you had tried to repress, the feelings you had tried so hard to bury, washing over you like a flood, a tsunami hitting you hard enough to knock the breath out of your lungs once again. As you took an unsteady step away from him, you prayed that Peter hadn't noticed.

"What are you doing here?"

"Nice place," Peter ignored your question, choosing to casually pace your living room instead. "Bit of a downgrade from the upper west side, though…"

"Fine," you scoffed, turning to him, "you wanna do small talk? Let's do small talk: what’s with the edgelord look?" You pointed at his tar-black suit.

"Biotech," the suit retracted from his face and head, reminding you of the nanobots suit he used to wear before Dr. Octopus destroyed it. "Do you like it?"

You shrugged,

"Stark industries?"

He shook his head.

"Horizon Lab."

Well, that was interesting. You knew the little, independent company owned by one of his ex-girlfriends had helped him manufacture a couple of special suits developed from his very own webs, after his emancipation from the Starks. But you had no idea they had reached such level of refinement, and you had a feeling neither did Fury.

"You like it?"

"You look… taller," You noted. That wasn't the only difference; his hair was longer, wilder, his shoulders wider, his arms far bigger than you recalled.

"You look exactly the same," he countered, as open as he had always been. "Just as beautiful as I remembered…"

You sighed, tiredly. You didn't have the energy for that — for his charm, his candidness. What was more, you weren't prepared at all.

No, you weren't prepared for this Peter. Your Peter. Not after what all that Fury had told you…

"What do you want, Peter?"

He leveled you with a look, his whole demeanor changing in the blink of an eye.

"I could ask you the exact same thing…"

"What do you mean?"

"Come on, Y/N. Don't play dumb with me, it doesn't suit you." His sudden bluntness surprised you, but it was more along the lines of what Fury had warned you to expect so it didn't completely manage to throw you off.

You crossed your arms, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Really, now?" Peter took a step forward, towering over you. "You don't? Hanging out at my spots, patrolling my neighbourhood, taking down my thugs?" He enumerated.

"Your thugs?"

"The kingpin is mine," he growled.

"Since when?"

"You fucking know since when!" You tried to hide your flinch at his rising tone, but he must have noticed because a moment later, he was closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose, visibly trying to get a hold of himself.

"I thought Queens was your neighbourhood…" You spoke, trying to diffuse the tension after a couple beats had passed without him moving.

"Yeah, well," he shrugged, opening his eyes, "I relocated."

"So did I…"

"You did," he smiled. And just like that, he was back at being your Peter. "And you mean to tell me all of this." He pressed a button in his wrist, "isn't to get my attention?"

A hologram version of Jade's video started to play in front of your impassive eyes. And you might have thought your carefully constructed mask of indifference gave away nothing, but Peter could see right through it. You didn't seem surprised to see the video and that alone was enough proof for him to confirm his theory.

"Please, Smokey, security footage?" He smirked, "this isn't like you. You aren't this sloppy."

Another click and the video was gone.

"Well, this might come as a surprise to you, but everything isn't always about you."

"Then what's going on?"

"None of your fucking business!"

Before you could react, the floor disappeared from under your feet, and your back hitted the wall with enough force to rattle the windows.

"Like hell it isn't," Peter hissed, his weight pinning you upright. "Now tell me, what the fuck did you get yourself into this time?"

As you stared into his stormy eyes, heart racing inside your chest, unsure if the adrenaline coursing through your veins was because of the obvious threat in front of you, or for another reason entirely, you wondered exactly the same.

Your tongue came out to moist your lips, Peter's dark pupils following the movement.

"It's been over a year," you breathed out, all the fight leaving you. It was too much, his sweet breath fanning over your face, every inch of his hard body pressed up against yours, overpowering you, the slick texture of his new suit against your bare chest… it was intoxicating. You had overestimated yourself. "Why do you even care?"

"I will always care about you," he confessed softly, just as affected by the closeness as you. "I will always want you…"

You closed your eyes, trying to get your erratic heart under control.

"Maybe I don't want you anymore, Peter."

He pushed you harder against the wall, his forearm against your collarbone to prevent you from moving.

"Don't do that," he whispered, lips ghosting over yours. "Don't torture me."

"Peter…"

BAM.

You fell to your knees, hard, Peter's body suddenly no longer supporting your weight.

"Touch her again, and I'll kill you!"

"J-Jess?"

"Hey, kid. You alright?" Your neighbour barely even spared you a glance over her shoulder as she placed herself between you and a newly irate looking Peter, slowly getting up from the rumble of splinters of wood and shards of glass that used to be your coffee table.

"What are you doing here?" You asked in confusion.

"I heard a noise," she deadpanned, eyes never leaving the dark cladded vigilante. But to your surprise Peter merely raised his hands in surrender, the bulk of his rage vanishing the moment he understood the woman in front of him was only trying to protect you.

"This isn't what it looks like…" He tried to explain, but Jessica would have none of it.

"Yeah, sure" she scoffed. "Big guy, totally dressed, pinning a half naked girl to the wall in the dark... totally not rapey."

Peter flinched. She was right, he wouldn't believe himself either.

"Listen, you're Jessica Jones, right?" Recognizing the woman in front of him, suddenly your choice in real state made a lot more sense. "I am- I was," he quickly corrected himself, "Peter Parker. Your friend, Matt Murdock, he knows me… look, I'm not- I'm not a bad guy."

Even to his ears, he sounded unconvincing.

"Really?" Jess pointed at his black costume, "Cause you definitely look like a bad guy."

"I… Y/n, help me out here," he threw you a pleading look but Jess moved to the side, blocking you from view.

"Hey, fuckface!" She snapped, drawing Peter's attention back to her, "the only reason I'm not kicking your ass right now is because of Matt. But if I ever see you next to Y/N ever again, I'll break every single bone of your body. Twice. Now get the fuck out of here, before I run out of fucking patience."

"Y/N?"

You sighed, getting up. Away from him, and with Jess there as a boofer between the both of you, you were no longer under the influence and could clearly see exactly how fucked up the situation was.

"I think you should leave, Peter."

There was a flash of hurt in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by a mask of indolence as he squared his jaw and turned away, letting the bio-suit close over his head again.

"I looked for her too, you know?" He admitted, before making his exit through the same window he had come in from.

You had no time to dwell on his words or anything of what had just happened, before Jess was on your face.

"That was Peter? Your sister's boyfriend, the one you told me I didn't need to investigate?"

You resisted the urge to shrink under her look,

"Yeah…"

"You told me he was harmless. That did not look harmless!"

You couldn't really argue with that, so you didn't. Instead you gestured at her to be quiet, as you reached past her to pick up your phone, your landline phone, the one you had never bothered connecting.

The one you knew was bugged.

With voice as clear and steady as you were able to manage, you spoke into the mic,

"Contact made. Awaiting further instructions."

To be continued...

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thewidowsghost · 3 years

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The Unknown Muggleborn - Chapter 19

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

The Weasleys stare around in amazement at the amount of money in their vault. Where there had previously been a very small pile of Silver Sickles and one single gold Galleon, there is now mounds of gold, columns of silver, and heaps of bronze.

Ginny and Hermione catch the triumphant gleam in (Y/n)'s eyes, and Ginny nudges her mother, nodding to (Y/n).

Grateful tears well in Mrs. Weasley's eyes as she sweeps some of the Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts into a bag.

. . .

Back outside on the marble steps, Mrs. Weasley pulls (Y/n) aside before everyone splits up.

(Y/n) smiles up at the woman.

Instead of saying anything, Mrs. Weasley hugs (Y/n) tightly before letting her go, holding her at arms length.

"Thank you," Mrs. Weasley murmurs, pulling (Y/n) into another hug.

"It's no big deal, Mrs. Weasley" (Y/n) says, smiling shyly. "You didn't even know me and you sent me Christmas gifts and Ron, Fred, George, and Percy have been great friends. I didn't mind helping out."

"You're a sweet girl, you know that?" Mrs. Weasley says softly, pulling (Y/n) into one last hug before letting her back off to her friends.

Percy mutters something about needing a new quill. Fred and George had spotted their friend from Hogwarts, Lee Jordan. Mrs. Weasley and Ginny are going to Madam Malkins robe shop. Mr. Weasley is insisting on taking the elder Grangers off to the Leaky Cauldron for a drink.

"We'll all meet at Flourish and Blotts in an hour to buy your schoolbooks," says Mrs. Weasley, setting off with Ginny. "And not one step down Knockturn Alley!" she shouts at the twins' retreating backs.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and (Y/n) stroll off along the winding cobbled street. The bags of gold, silver, and bronze jangling cheerfully in (Y/n)'s and Harry's pockets is clamoring to be spent, so Harry buys two strawberry-and-peanut-butter ice creams for him and Ron, and (Y/n) buys two salted caramel cheesecake ice creams for her and Hermione, which they slurped happily as they wander down the alley, examining the fascinating shop windows. Ron gazes longingly at a full set of Chudley Cannon robes in the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies until Hermione drags Harry and Ron off to buy ink and parchment while (Y/n) slides into the shop, emerging a moment later with a package which she slides into the backpack she is wearing.

An hour later, the four head towards Flourish and Blotts. They are by means the only ones making their way to the bookshop. As they approach it, they see to their surprise a large crowd josting outside the doors, trying to get in. The reason for this is proclaimed by a large banner stretching across the upper windows which has (Y/n) looking disgusted:

"We can actually meet him!" Hermione squeals, (Y/n) turning to look at her sister in disbelief. "I mean, he's written almost the whole booklist!"

The crowd seems to be made up mostly of witches around Mrs. Weasley's age. A harassed-looking wizard stands at the door saying, "Calmly, please, ladies . . . Don't push, there . . . mind the books, now . . ."

Harry, Ron, (Y/n), and Hermione squeeze inside. A long line winds right to the back of teh shop, where Gilderoy Lockhart is signing his books. The four each grab a copy of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2, (Y/n) also grabbing a few books for her to read in their freetime: Curses and Counter-curses (Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue-Tying, and Much, Much More), Basic Hexes for the Busy and Vexed, as well as her new potions book for her Year 4 class Asiatic Anti-Venoms and they sneak up the line to where the rest of the Weasleys are standing with Hermione and (Y/n)'s parents.

"Oh, there you are," says Mrs. Weasley. She sounds breathless and keeps patting her hair. "We'll be able to see him in a minute . . ."

Gilderoy Lockhart comes slowly into view, seated at a table surrounded by large pictures of his own face, all winking and flashing dazzlingly white teeth at the crowd. The real Lockhart is wearing robes of forget-me-not blue that exactly matches his eyes: his pointed wizard's hat is set at a jaunty angle on his wavy hair.

A short, irritable-looking man is dancing around taking photographs with a large black camera that emits puffs of purple smoke with every blinding flash. "Out of the way, there," he snarls up at (Y/n), moving back to get a better shot. "This is for the Daily Prophet -"

"Big deal," (Y/n) snarks, looking disgusted, her gaze fixed on the wizard at the table.

Gilderoy Lockhart had head her. He looks up. He sees (Y/n), meeting her glare - and then he sees Harry. Then he leaps to his feet and positively shouts, "It can't be Harry Potter?"

The crowd parts, whispering excitedly; Lockhart dives forward, seizes Harry's arm, and pulls him to teh front. The crowd burst into applause. Harry's face burns as Lockhart shakes his hand for the photographer, who is clicking away madly, wafting thick smoke over the Weasleys.

"Nice big smile, Harry," says Lockhart, though his own gleaming teeth. "Together, you and I are worth the front page."

When he finally lets go of Harry's hand, Harry can hardly feel his fingers. Harry tries to sidle back over to the Weasleys, but Lockhart throws an arm around his shoulders and clamps him tightly to his side. Harry catches (Y/n)'s expression and he chokes back a laugh.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Lockhart says loudly, waving for quiet. "What an extraordinary moment this is! The perfect moment for me to make a little announcement I've been sitting on for some time! When young Harry here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he only wanted to buy my autobiography - which I shall be happy to present him now, free of charge -" The crowd applauds again. "He had no idea," Lockhart continues, giving Harry a little shake that makes his glasses slip to the end of his nose, "that he would shortly be getting much, much more than my book, Magical Me. He and his schoolmates will, in fact, be getting the real magical me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have great pleasure and pride and announcing that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teach er at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

The crowd cheers and claps and Harry finds himself being presenting with the entire works of Gilderoy Lockhart. Staggering slightly under their weight, Harry manages to make his way out of the limelight to the edge of the room, where Ginny is standing next to her hew cauldron.

"Bet you loved that, didn't you, Potter?" says a voice Harry has no trouble recognizing. Harry straightens up and finds himself face-to-face with Draco Malfoy, who is wearing his usual sneer. "Famous Harry Potter," says Malfoy. "Can't even go into a book-shop without making the front page."

Word Count: 1200 words

#hermione granger x sister reader #tony stark x daughter reader

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left-myself-in-the-alleyway · 6 years

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Forever & Always

Part 3

Warning: Descriptive abuse, panic attack(s) touches lightly on drinking

To anyone who reads this: I wrote this part before I did any research on panic attacks and such so please be kind.

Thanks to @momobucketcomics for editing/co-writing this and making the mood board below.

More thanks to @devotedlybeautifulkingdom- (Tumblr won’t let me tag you!) for showing support for this story.

I felt someone rubbing my back. Someone, or something was comforting me, telling me I was safe. In the state I was in, I'm surprised I could hear it at all. I could feel the sweat trickling down my face, leaving a wet, slimy trail. I also felt myself calming down, albeit slowly.

It's okay. It's okay. I kept telling myself, desperately wanting to believe it.

I sat up straight and leaned back, still trying to fill my lungs. I could barely get enough air in them without feeling like I was suffocating.

I heard someone say my name.

"Mmhhmm...?" I mumble, my eyes still shut tight.

"Evelyn, can you please open your eyes?" I hear a voice that sounds like Tony ask, sounding... concerned?

Slowly, I comply to my so-called father's wishes.

I opened my eyes to see a sea of faces staring at me, worried expressions on their faces.

...Last time I checked, there weren't this many people in the room. Damn, I'm seeing double again.

I rubbed my eyes and took a deep breath. Finally, my head was clear enough to speak normally. "I'm sorry... overreaction." I try to cover up.

"I would like to apologize for asking you that. I didn't know you would react that badly." Thor explained. It was badly worded, but...I knew what he meant.

"It's okay. It's not your fault- I shouldn't have let my mind wander..." The last words drifted off into a mutter- I wonder if he could hear me.

"Do I have a room?" I ask quietly. I don't want to stay here for much longer.

"Yes, I um. Yeah." Tony still looked a bit freaked out about my panic attack. I hope he hasn't bitten off more than he can chew by taking me in...

"I can take her to her room, Tony." Steve offers.

"Thanks, Steve." He replied, walking away.

Steve gave me a smile. "Follow me."

Dragging my feet, I grab my backpack and duffle bag. Panic attacks are exhausting.

As soon as we leave the room, it's just the two of us. The hubbub in the last room seemed to have vanished from existence, as if nothing had happened at all. Huh, guess they have soundproofing here too.

"Are you okay?" He asked as the elevator started to move.

"Yeah. I'm fine." I say, trying to get some form of a smile to form on my face. I hate it when people worry about me- I feel like I'm just a nuisance to them.

"You know, when I first came out of the ice, I had panic attacks. Everything was really overwhelming." He admitted. "I found the best thing I could do was talk to people about what happened. War is an ugly thing. You see a lot of things you wish you hadn't."

"It sounds like...you had a hard time leaving the past in the past and embracing the future" I say quietly as we navigate the halls, a whisper being all I could muster.

"You're pretty smart for someone so young. But that is something that you should remember too. Your past may determine your future, but it doesn't have to rule it." He explains as we come to my door, his pure blue eyes boring into my hazel ones.

"If you ever need anything at all, and you can't find Tony, don't be afraid to come to me for help." He said softly. "Just ask JARVIS to take you to my apartment. It's on this floor."

I scrunch my eyebrows. Apartment? "Everyone here has half a floor, except for myself and Tony. He has a whole floor to himself. I have almost a whole floor, so that's why Tony figured it would be a good idea to put you here." He explained.

My eyes go wide. "That's right, you get a small apartment just for you." He chuckled.

I smiled to myself. Maybe this won't be so bad.

"Remember what I said." He says, walking away.

I walk into my room, exhausted. I let go of my bags, letting them land wherever. It's so clean in here, I feel a slight twinge of guilt for messing up the neatness of everything with my scruffy baggage. I look at the rustic, brown clock. Thank God it’s not some weird futuristic aesthetic design, I hate that kind of stuff . It's 6:00.

That means it's only 3:00 back home.

Home. Somehow, the word feels foreign in my mouth- like a new shoe that'll take getting used to, or... Something.

I look at my messy bags laying haphazardly on the floor. My other luggage must be downstairs, wherever Mr. Hogan put them. I'm too tired to care about anything right now. I've got so much to do, but I can't resist taking a quick nap- Then I'll unpack and check out the rest of the apartment.

I flop down on the couch. Closing my eyes, I still can't believe how much my life could change so much over the course of a few hours.

Tony trodded over to the lounge bar, searching for the drink he had left behind earlier. He chugged down the glass of alchohol. Even though it was now room-temperature, he savored it rushing down his throat. Then, without even thinking, he poured himself a glass of the strongest bottle on the shelf- Devil's Springs Vodka. He collapsed on the couch sipping his strong drink.

"No, no! Stop it!" I scream at my mother.

She had just returned from wherever it was that she went. Probably the bar, considering her words were extremely slurred. With every step she took, it was heavier than anything- like ten earthquakes simultaneously rocking my world.

She was hitting me, landing blow after blow over and over again. I wish it would stop.

I need it to stop!

I almost got away, but she latched onto my shirt and pulled me back.

"Oh, darling. You're not getting away that easily!" She laughed as she dug her long, inhumanly sharp nails into my arms. I cried out as I felt the skin start to split and bleed.

She shoved me onto the floor. Before I could be relieved at her release, my head caught the corner of the table on my way down. Pain exploded through my head, and I could feel hot blood welling up somewhere on my face. Through my blurry, spotted vision I saw her chug down another bottle of vile-smelling beer.

Then, instead of doing what I hoped she would do, she threw it at me. I screamed as it shattered on the floor, showering me in broken shards. I cried out one last time as I felt the pieces of glass embed themselves in my flesh, burning deeper and deeper inside me. As I struggled to run away, my hands slipped on the floor that was pooling with my blood and tears. It rose ever higher, fueled by my bodily fluids, threatening to flood the entire room. The salty mixture seeped into my fresh wounds, burning them black.

Before I black out, I hear her say something. Her voice was no longer slurred, but crystal clear. It was sick and twisted, familiar and yet of something nightmarish that you'd only hear in the darkest depths of hell.

"Remember, Evelyn; however far you run, no matter how hard you fight back, I will be with you. Forever... and Always." As she growled those last words, everything faded away into darkness.

I shot up out of my restless slumber, drenched in cold sweat. My heart was pounding. I quickly pulled up the sleeves of my pullover, thinking I had woken up after being knocked out. There were only fading bruises and scars. Then, I remembered where I was. I breathed a sigh of relief.

I glanced at the clock. I only slept for 45 minutes, and I'd managed to have one of the worst nightmares in history. Oh, jeez.

I started unpacking my measly possessions. Anything to get my mind off That.

Someone had brought the rest of my bags up and put them in my room. I plopped down on the pristine bedsheets, feeling myself sink down into the mattress. It felt much comfier up here than on the couch. Maybe if I'd crashed on an actual bed, I'd have been spared the horrors of that nightmare.

I hung up a few of my tops in the closet. Most of my clothing consisted of long-sleeved sweaters, which I used to wear to school to hide the marks. I also had one sundress and two maxi skirts. They were beautiful, but I couldn't remember the last time I wore them. Standing on my tiptoes, I put a few of my pants and shorts on the shelves. Some of them were messed up, but I threw them in anyway. I was never any good at folding clothes. From there, I head into the bathroom to unpack all of makeup and other... Necessities.

I wonder if there's any dishes in the cupboards. Skipping off to the mini-kitchen, I went to check. Sure enough, there was. There was also food in the fridge! Am I supposed to live by myself, completely? I wonder to myself, checking out the other contents of the various drawers. The countertops were sparkling, and even inside the compartments of the kitchen, not a jar was out of place. Just the way it will stay, clean.

I fiddled with my phone, looking for my favorite playlist. Ah, found it.

Forgettable by Project 46 filled my ears.

I absentmindedly started to hum along to the song- This soon developed into quiet singing.

The song's beautiful and uplifting melody rejuvenated me. It was like a weight was lifted off my shoulders, as I started organizing.

I adjusted a photo of me and my cat, trying to get it just right. I finally get it to sit at the right angle on the little counter beside the kitchen. As I subconsciously sung to the tune of my music, I stepped back to examine the angle of the frame. Suddenly, in between songs, I heard something behind me. It sounded kinda large- maybe mice? Huh, not if the cleaning team can help it. Really Evelyn, this is Stark towers. There won't be mice here. After ridiculing myself a bit more I turn around, thinking I might make some tea. I nearly screamed when I saw a figure in my doorway...

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