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"Alright, listen to me." Y/N had rushed into the O'Hara residence like spring wind, bringing warmth to a house Declan has felt cold in ever since the departure of his wife.
She headed straight into the kitchen where she dropped several files and folders, splaying them out on the table. It was evident from her pace alone that she'd come with an agenda but that didn't bother Declan. If there was one thing that could stray his thoughts from Maud it was work. And Venturer still required a lot of it.
"It'd be quite impossible to not listen to you, my dear. Especially with such an impressionable entrance." Declan chuckles, taking a drag of his cigarettes as he comes to stand across the table from the girl.
"Good, because I didn't spend an entire sleepless night drafting all this for you to not pay me any mind." She grumbles as she flicks open the folders, flipping past the formality pages to the main course of the idea she's about to pitch.
Y/N is one of the Corinium refugees that jumped ship the second Declan resigned. She was a paid intern and the face of Corinium's 'After Dark' segment focusing on rather scandalous topics and entertainment targeting the young adult demographic. However, with the continuous undermining she felt from practically everyone, she had long been planning to break the chain binding her to the company. The only thing - or rather, person - that kept changing her mind was...well, I think it's pretty darn obvious when you take note of when she finally decided to go through with the decision and leave.
Declan pulls out a chair and takes a seat, leaning forward with his elbows on the table to skim all the files she's laid out for him "I'm all ears, darling."
"You better be." Y/N says with a clap of her hands as she takes a deep breath, "So, I've been thinking, we should set Venturer free from the shadows of Corinium. Because, right now, especially with you as the face of the company, we seem like a bitter revenge attempt. Just an endeavor to bite back at a company that wronged you. Of course, that is not my personal opinion, but-"
"I think it is."
"Hush!" She scolds him as he interrupts her, "I'm far from done."
Declan laughs, smoke curling around him as he lifts his hands up in surrender, motioning for her to continue.
"Thank you." She narrows her eyes, "So, I'll cut to the chase, seeing as how your attention span is one of a fish. My idea is to make Venturer unique in more ways than one. Truly make it our own. And....take down two birds with one stone." She says with a knowing look.
Declan quirks an eyebrow at her, tilting his head to the side, "And what's this second bird you speak of."
Y/N points a manicured nail down to an underlined name he recognizes, "The Scorpion, of course. They have a massive monopoly over London's printed journalism and they don't even know how to use it properly. They have a wide reach and use it to spread gossip and rumors. I can count on all ten fingers the amount of nude pictures I've seen in a supposedly serious paper just this past year. It is abhorrent. That being said, what do you say?"
Declan places a hand on his chin, giving the documents she's put so much thought in a more thorough look. The idea had never even crossed his mind - the Venturer merging two separate branches of journalism, setting in motion a domination attempt of the entire field.
The more he ponders it, the better it sounds, but it doesn't exactly show on his face which makes Y/N feel nervous for the very first time since she started working on the pitch. She hadn't for a second doubted that it would be a good idea but right now she feels rather unsure as she takes in Declan's thoughtful furrowed brow.
"You don't have to give me an answer right away. I know it's a hefty endeavor and you have to consult with Rupert and Freddie and Cameron. I probably should've gathered all of you to properly pitch the idea but I wanted you to be the first to hear it in case it was an utter embarrassment. Again, think it over, and get back to it whenever you-"
"It's genius."
Her rambling comes to an abrupt halt, leaving her slack-jawed and wide-eyed. For a moment, she refuses to allow herself the joy of success, opting to make sure she hadn't misheard him first. "Come again?"
"It's genius." He doubles down on his original statement, "You're a genius, love. Which is why you'll be the leading force behind Venturer Daily." He smirks when he sees her eyes grow impossibly wider, "Like the name?"
The airy laugh that leaves her parted lips carries all the disbelief, worry and uncertainty from her body, giving way to relief childlike excitement that displays itself with a wide grin, "Venturer Daily.....yes, y-yeah, it has a nice ring to it." Her mind is already a whirlwind of potential topics and stories she could report on. How she'd have complete control of all that'd get printed and released into the world for all of London society to read. And beyond - nation wide even.
But then logic and rational thinking kicks in, curbing her thrill, "Wait, don't we have to consult everyone else before making such decisions?"
Declan shakes his head, "With a passionate pitch like yours they'll immediately climb onboard even if they are initially against it. Which I honestly doubt, there are very few downsides for them to pick at."
"Alright, fair. What about my writing? What if I don't have what it takes to transfer the charm I have in front of the camera to a printed page?" She asks, more so wondering aloud rather than actually directing the question to Declan.
Still, he points a scolding finger at her, "Never let me hear you doubt yourself like that again."
The sternness in his voice causes something to stir inside her, like ripples in a still lake that progressively become waves when she sees the intensity in his eyes. Because of course that's how her body reacts to strict praise and attention from a man twice her age that also happens to be her boss.
Her next worry is voiced a little quietly, almost sheepishly, "I don't even have a typewriter of my own."
He doesn't give an instant reply to her raised concern. Instead, he motions for her to wait a moment before leaving the kitchen, heading up the stairs in the foyer.
Y/N is left standing alone in the kitchen with a flushed face and a speeding heart as she chews on her bottom lip in anticipation. Her fingers drum nervously on the edge of the table as she takes a deep breath, willing her heart to slow down and take it easy. All in the hopes of not being let down in the end.
Let down she most certainly isn't when Declan comes back down the stairs, typewriter in hand, and places it on the table in front of her.
"Problem solved. Anything else bothering ya? If there is something, let me know so I can take care of it for ya, alright? You just focus on getting me a newspaper draft within the next two weeks. Sounds good?" He asks, as he stands beside her, hands on hips, spine straight and a satisfied lopsided smirk on his face.
The earlier mentioned waves turn into a full on tsunami.
Y/N runs a gentle hand over the polished black typewriter, her fingers lingering on the golden accents adorning it. "You would give this to me? Are you sure?" She asks, mouth agape in disbelief as he nods "T-thank you....I promise to take good care of it. I'll have it returned in pristine condition as soon as I purchase my own."
Declan immediately shakes his head, clicking his tongue, "Oh no, no, no, darling. It's yours. Yours to keep, that is."
Y/N's disbelief is palpable as she quirks an eyebrow at him, "How could you ever bring yourself to part with something so beautiful." She gathers some of the dust layer that coats the keys, "And something you've had for a long while, no less."
Declan doesn't show it, but his heart clenches as he sees how gentle and almost loving Y/N is to this object that he too feels such a connection to. He'd originally bought it for Maud's birthday a few years back only to earn himself a displeased reaction from his wife who demanded something - in her words - actually valuable as a birthday gift. Seeing someone be as appreciative and admiring of this typewriter as he'd been the moment he saw it returns that same excitement he'd felt when he was preparing to gift it to Maud. This time however, the excitement isn't deflated by disappointment. If anything, it's amplified by seeing it be mirrored in Y/N's eyes.
Eyes that hold such adoration.
Adoration he witnesses morph into something else when her eyes meet his for a split second before she throws her arms around his neck, embracing him tightly. The action stuns him, mostly because it's coming from someone who's not typically openly affectionate but he welcomes it none the less, returning the gesture with a flutter in his heartbeat.
He's unsure of how to describe what he's feeling but a small voice in his brain is condemning him for it. For how good it feels to have someone's arms wrapped around him with undivided affection he hasn't been treated to by his own wife in years.
Speaking of his wife, he catches glimpse of her smiling face framed on the coffee table in the living room. He should feel guilt but he doesn't. Especially not when he remembers that he hasn't been on the receiving end of that smile in a long, long while. The notion causes his arms to tighten around Y/N, his face nestled into the crook of her neck, each inhale filling his nose with the sweet scent of her perfume lingering on her skin and in her hair.
"Thank you..." She whispers as her arms slowly loosen around him. He doesn't even have time to feel disappointed to no longer feel her warmth around him when her lips press against his cheek, sending sparks of electricity throughout his entire body, setting every nerve ending aflame.
Before he's even had the chance to gather his bearings, Y/N has already collected the files and folders she'd brought, leaving them in a neat pile on the table. She picks up the typewriter in her arms, the weight of it evident in the way she's carrying it like an infant - or rather that is a display of the care she feels for the gift.
It's obvious the kiss was an improvised action on her part. There's a solid chance she herself was surprised by it considering how flustered she is now as she's doing everything in her power to leave the O'Hara residence.
"I'll have a draft delivered to you in a couple days." She says hastily, one foot practically already out the door, "I promise I won't let you down."
Declan's arm seems to have a mind of its own as it shoots out and gently grabs hers, stopping her in her frazzled haste to run away. His thumb swipes over the soft cotton of her sweater, allowing her to feel the warmth of his touch on her skin through the fabric. His eyes are warm and inviting, exuding comfort and reassurance she's never been offered by anyone before.
"You could never let me down, darling."
His words might as well have been a physical force the way they knock the breath clear from her lungs.
In another universe, she might be a better woman. The kind that wouldn't kiss her still-technically-married, twice her age boss. But in this universe she has no such restraint.
And clearly neither does he, seeing as how he meets her halfway, their bodies symbolically separated by the typewriter she's cradling - a disappointing gift to one, but a beautiful memento to another.
* * * * *
A couple days later, Declan finds a draft of a newspaper wedged into the side of his front door, waiting for him, a bow neatly tied around it. He reads through it while sipping on his morning coffee, smirking at the bold title - Daily Venturer, a slight variation of the name they had agreed upon.
Y/N's passion is warming the pages in his hand, eliciting genuine emotion and reaction with each paragraph she has written, the word alive on the crisp paper.
He's about to close it when the farewell block of text at the bottom of the last page catches his attention. It's not printed, instead handwritten in beautiful cursive
⋰ May you find my writing even half as beautiful as your own soul, dear reader
May you have enlighten yourself with my words the way you've enlighten my life with your presence
May your heart be warm as the coffee I'm sure you're drinking as you're reading
May all be well always ⋱
Yours only,
~Y/N