#and now I still have 2 hours before work!

[neovillains]

DEATHBED | PART TWO

( HE'S NO DEADBEAT : NANAMI KENTO ) nanami believed he raised his son well, only for him to turn into a deadbeat right in front of his eyes. don't worry, he'll make it up to you. | watch time: 3.8k words.

── gilf!nanami & fem-bodied!reader, she/her pronouns, single mother!reader, adopted grandfather!nanami, deadbeat!yuuji itadori, high age gap, cunnilingus, clit stimulation, unprotected sex, multiple (2) orgasms, creampie, pussyjob, etc.

note. i am going so feral over my own series. like,,, i want to gnaw on the skin of gilf nanami so bad !

“I just don’t understand,” Nanami sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he throws his head back in the stress of all this. “You told me a couple of months ago that you love the girl. Now, you’re going back on your word the moment the child’s born? This is not the man I raised you to be.”

“Yeah, well,” Yuuji mumbles on the other line. “I’m sorry for disappointing you, but I just— I don’t think I’m cut out to be a father. I didn’t— I didn’t—”

“You didn’t realize how much responsibility it would be?” Nanami finishes for him. “How old are you again? I thought we were over this conversation the moment you left for college.”

“Why are you giving me so much shit?” Yuuji groans, voice getting more agitated the more his adopted father continues to chastise him. “(Y/N) and I had already had a discussion about things and I would financially provide for the child. That should be enough.”

“That should be enough?” Nanami scoffed, baffled by the words of the pink-haired fool on the other line. He could tell that Yuuji was still naive and idiotic to think that money would be the only thing that you needed to provide for a child all on your own. “What about doctor appointments? Emergencies at school and (Y/N) having to call off work to get them— did you consider instances like that? One person isn’t supposed to juggle the job of two.”

“I’m pretty sure she’ll be fine,” Yuuji hums. “You’ve done it with me—”

Nanami couldn’t take anymore of it, pulling the phone from his ears and immediately clicking on the red button to end the call. With a sigh, he brings himself out of the kitchen and towards the leather recliner that’s starting to fade. The burnt umber starting to dull in its color and having more of an orange hue to it. Relaxing in the seat as he leans back, he shuts his eyes. Over the years, he’s finally gotten a chance to relax. Slaving away in an office for hours and hours nearly everyday and coming home to provide for a young Yuuji, it’s brought a toll on his body. Gradually letting himself go, his stomach has grown a bit more pudge to it and the blond of his hair has completely dissipated to white. 

When Yuuji had found you, bringing you home to meet his father, he was happy for his son. You were such a sweet person who managed to handle Yuuji’s outgoing nature. You were someone who could provide him stability, something that Yuuji was in dire need of. However, Nanami should’ve seen this coming when the two of you had been together for ten years and he never mentioned the idea of dropping down to one knee. 

“Fuck,” Nanami curses as he rubs circles into the temples of his forehead. He thought that at some point Yuuji would get it. That he’s no longer a child and has responsibilities to tend to. But instead, he’s still running from adulthood instead of embracing it, coming to terms with it, and stop solely feeding into his inner child. Though it could be a gruesome thing, aging did have its perks. It was sad to see that his son didn’t seem to find that within you and his son. 

He wondered how you were doing. How you truly were doing. Reaching for his phone, he had never called you so periodically before. However, when he heard that you were pregnant, he wanted to be a present grandfather. But when he heard how Yuuji had broken your heart after so many years together, he felt ashamed to have ties with the younger lad. 

Last contacted: Two Weeks Ago.

With a heavy sigh, he presses the call button and waits. He’s expecting you to decline the call but after four rings, your voice— soft— sounds from the other line. “Hello? Nanami?”

“Hello, (Y/N). How’ve you been?”

—

You’re a very eclectic person. That’s what Nanami has learned about you from over the years. When you and Yuuji moved in together, you had taken over all aspects of interior design, having a more maximalist approach to things as countertops were littered with drinkets and pieces that were so vibrant and full of color. He couldn’t tell what your style was— bohemian chic with a mixture of rustic and historical? You mismatched a lot of things, but they always seemed to be coordinated in some sort of way. In the end, your home was an organized chaos that he’s come to admire. 

However, as he sits down on your couch, half of those decoratives and staples to your home are gone. Packed away in boxes as you’re ready to raise a child. Conversations between the two of you were short and brief, that light in your eye that he’s so accustomed to is starting to blow out and he can’t help but feel guilty for the role he has to play in this. 

“How’ve you been holding up, (Y/N)?” He asks out of the blue. “And be truthful with me. Don’t worry about me relaying the message back to Yuuji because I’m not— if that’s what you’re worried about.”

For the first time in the two hours he’s been here, you chuckle. The newborn laying on your chest as you rock your little boy to sleep, you shake your head as the corner of your lips rise. “I’m not worried about that, trust me. I’m just trying to think about that as much as possible, to be honest. It’s been a rough couple of days. With postpartum and everything, it’s taking a toll on me while I’m trying to keep it together.”

“Has he been sleeping well?” Nanami gestures to the baby. “If you need any help with him, you know I’ll be here as much as I possibly can.”

“You know,” you hum. “He’s really not that bad. I don’t want to jinx it, but he’s been good at night. The days, too. He’s been easy so far.”

“Probably because he can detect what you’re going through,” he lets out the comment absentmindedly before clearing his throat. “It’s good that he’s not giving you much trouble though. All you need is easy right now.” 

By the fourth hour, Nanami removed himself from your home. Seeing him out, you were about to shut the door when he stopped abruptly. “And I mean it, (Y/N). Call me if you ever need help. Don’t try to do everything on your own. I’ll be there for you as much as I possibly can.”

Your eyes glisten with tears as you nod. “Thanks, Nanami. I really appreciate that.”

—

Nanami had taken the initiative to do what Yuuji couldn’t. Making regular visits to you to spend time with you and help with the baby as much as he can. Months passed by and gradually you were forgetting about Yuuji. Even with Nanami in your presence, you no longer cared about the guy you had been with for ten years as the older man seemed to be filling this void inside of you as you didn’t feel alone. And when Yuuji would call, you’d always keep conversation short as your voice gained a bit more pep and you were able to get more decent amounts of sleep. 

There was something stirring inside of you when Nanami was around. It was like he made the sun shine brighter. 

Was this right— to be on the verge of developing plausible feelings for your son’s grandfather, your ex’s father? Adopted father, your brain corrected. Nonetheless, Nanami raised Yuuji as if he was his own. Were you just trying to fill that hollow void inside of you that was yearning for connection?

You loved Yuuji. He was childish and didn’t want to hold any responsibility, oftentimes making you do the brunt of things. Truthfully, you shouldn’t have stayed so long. But, you loved him. His childishness made you smile, his want for fun made the days go faster. However, you ended up getting the short end of the stick because of his ways. But still, you loved Yuuji.

Nanami was a tie to Yuuji. And whatever that was going on in your mind was still tied down to Yuuji. 

The pipe was running for far too long that it called for Nanami’s attention. Stepping inside of the kitchen, he stands behind you and reaches to turn off the pipe. He looks down at you when you jump, your back hitting into his chest. Making eye contact, you smile sheepishly as he looks down at you in concern. “What’s wrong?”

He doesn’t ask if there’s something wrong, he knows that something is. And in the whirlwind of your mind, you blurt, “I think it’s best if you go now.”

The immediate switch up is perplexing, catching Nanami off guard as he instinctively takes a step back. “Huh— did I do something wrong?”

“No, but— but I think it’s best if you stop your little visits,” you continue on, turning your back away from him as you grab the sponge, squirting soap on it. 

“(Y/N), talk to me.”

“I don’t think I want to talk anymore.”

“I don’t care if you don’t want to talk anymore, you’re going to,” he pulls at your wrist, dragging you away from the sink. “Tell me what’s with the abrupt decisions?”

“I—I—” you groan in frustration, flinging yourself against Nanami as you pull him in for a kiss. It lasts for only a second before he’s pushing you off of him, trying to collect his thoughts and understand what just happened. Your face heats up feeling like a complete fool. 

“I’m so sorry. I just— This is why you need to—” However, before you can even finish your sentence, he’s pulling you back into his embrace. The warmth of his body makes you melt as you taste his lips, fingers scrunching in the baby blue t-shirt hanging off his body. The tension from inside of you is relieved as your hand goes to drape around his neck as you let out the slightest of moans. It’s then that he pulls away, a string of saliva following.

Nanami’s brown eyes stare into you, no longer filled with the youth of his younger days like how you’ve seen in his photo albums. However, you can see how they brighten up with you in his hold. In a low and raspy voice, “If this was what you were scared about, I would’ve assured you a long time ago that you’re safe with me.”

He plants another wet and chaste kiss on your lips, adding, “Don’t worry. I’ll be sure to take care of you for the rest of the years I have.”

With your son fast asleep, the two of you become so enamoured in each other’s lust that reality slips past. Nanami’s veiny hands grip onto your hips with purpose and pull you closer into him. From the time he’s been spending with you, you’ve made him realize how much he’s missed out on companionship. How he had been so occupied with work and providing for Yuuji that he never took the chance to really connect with anyone. Aside from the occasional women and a few sporadic dates, his life was one of loneliness. Your lips are soft and full of life, transporting him back to his late twenties— blond hair and unblemished skin, green-tinted spectacles that hid his beautiful coffee-toned eyes. He was stressed out then, but imagine if he had found someone like you back then? Closer in age and held the same stupor that would make him realize his mistakes much sooner, he wouldn’t have ended up in the predicament he is in now. Kissing on a girl that’s nearly half his age, the mother of his grandson. He should feel ashamed of himself— disgusted— but his body craves this. Craves you. 

You manage to guide him to your bedroom without his knowing, his mind so preoccupied that the moment you gently shut the door, he’s disoriented. The two of you have moved so seamlessly in the heat of things that it makes this all too real. But still, even when you’re sitting on the edge of the bed and he’s climbing over your body, he can’t stop himself. Lust-blown eyes that gaze into yours, he breathes heavily. “You’d willingly love an old man like me?”

“Yes,” you breathe with a faint nod. “Need someone to take care of me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?” Nanami breathes. “You’d let an old man use this beautiful body of yours— ruin it with his old cock?”

You go to cup his face, eyes gleaming when you say, “You could never do that, Kento.”

He grounds his erection into your covered heat, pressing his lips down on yours before haughtily saying, “Oh, but I want to.” 

And your eyes say it all, giving him permission as you feel the fire that ignites in between your legs. Arousal continues to build up as Nanami’s breathing gets heavier. Aging lines that protrude the skin, cheeks sucked and exhausted eyes that reflect those many years of labor. You remember the words of your ex telling you about him, speaking so highly of his father and how he worked endlessly. Yuuji always said that his father needed a break, and finally does it feel like he is. Spending leisure time buried inside of your pussy.

Nanami knows he has to be careful not to strain the bones inside of his body, knowing that one bad ache can be detrimental. However, he’s eager— way too eager to have a taste. Traversing down your body, he stops himself at the hem of your shorts. One leg on the floor with the other knee pressing into the mattress of the bed, he grabs at the elastic of it and slowly drags it down. Your hips rise up from the sheets as your thighs press together before he’s flinging the two garments down to the ground. Your body was slowly getting back to what you used to recognize it for. After going through labor, your stomach had felt like it became a deflated balloon, gaining more and more stretch marks than you originally had. When you took Nanami up on his offer to help you, he encouraged you to get out of the house as much as you can. It had helped, but you were still coming to terms with the new you.

However, with every gentle touch that Nanami places on your body, it feels like nothing has changed. The way he caresses your waist, gently tugging you down to his lips. Hands pushing at the hem of your shirt and making it rise as your stomach is exposed. The gentle kiss to your left inner thigh and the soft rub to your stomach is a simple gesture that makes sparks fly. He spreads your legs slowly, but his eyes glued on yours as his hands come to travel higher up. He’s so close to you, his breath dancing over your pussy as he mumbles, moreso to himself than to you, “God, so beautiful.”

Simple gestures and simple words that give you enough validation as you say his name, Kento. Your legs tense up before relaxing, your body beginning to jitter the more he gets so transfixed with it. It’s only for the palm of his hand to stop and relax you before spreading you open even further. “Don’t get shy on me now, love. I’ll take care of you, just like you need to be.”

The first kiss to your lips is short, a simple taste test to your nectar— you’re the finest honey he’s ever tasted. Your arousal has him addicted, pressing his nose into your clit as he inhales your scent. Intoxicating and tantalizing, he finds himself getting lost in a matter of seconds. Your body shudders, making your spine arch with the way his tongue presses down into your warmth. One hand digging into your sheets while the next knots inside of his hair, pulling at the thinning strands of his scalp. However, he couldn’t care less as he finds himself impeccably lost. Your short tugs has him moaning, a sign of encouragement for you to continue those savoury sounds as his hand goes in search for the next to guide it where it belongs. 

With both of your hands tangled in what used to be blond, your legs trap him inside your heat as his arms wrap around your waist. There’s an ache settling inside of his legs, but he keeps himself still as his pink tongue prods at your folds. You’re a mewling mess as your eyes are shut and basking in this bliss. Your breathing becomes heavy as you can only think of the man making you feel so good. You gnaw on your bottom lip in hopes to ground yourself as his tongue swirls against your labia, nose nuzzling into your clit as he presses the muscle deeper and deeper within you. 

Wet sounds start to seep within the air as Nanami’s not caught up for breath once as you’ve got each other locked in each other’s hold. His moans are deep and from the soul, his arms tightening around your waist as he can feel it before you can. That coil deep within your body, shortly undoing and bringing you to the brink. Arousal dressing his taste buds, your juices continue to seep out as your back arches off the bed and your fingers get tighter. “K-Ken… Kento!”

“I know,” he pulls up for a first. “And I’ve got you.”

Nanami tips you over the edge, knocking you out of breath the moment he presses a finger to your clit. A high-pitched gasp leaving your mouth as you close your eyes shut and cry out in pleasure. “Kento, ohmigosh!”

You drag out a long-winded ‘oh,’ building up pride in the older man as a smirk graces his lips as he laps up your orgasm. Your eyes roll to the back of your skull as your upper body falls back into the sheets and your chin points to the ceiling. Your breath is ragged as you slowly fall from your high and feel the bed shuffle. A deep groan settles from off of his chest as Nanami has to take a moment to stretch out his limbs. He reaches to pull off his shirt and undo his pants, the tight-fitted boxer briefs resting on his lower half when your eyes start to flutter open once more. Chest rising and falling, you admire the chub of the man before you. 

He dropped the habit of working out in his early sixties the moment he realized the amount of strain it was putting on his body. And no longer did he care for it, not bothering to wake up in the early mornings or get ready in the evenings for it. Instead, he opted in for daily walks and called it a day. But even those had become a biweekly hobby. He was no longer sharp and strong as he used to be, but the remnants of it and the roundness of his body was more comforting than ever. Eyes lingering to the bulge inside of his undergarments, you ogled at the size of it, white hairs leading down to it. Inching towards you, he brought your attention to his face. Your glossy eyes no longer transfixed on the length hiding under the elastic cloth as he inched down to you. One hand cupping your face as he breathes heavily, giving you a once over. 

“My son,” he starts before clearing his throat. “My son never knew how to handle a woman like you.”

It was gradual. You didn’t know when he had managed to slip free of his underwear. “Could’ve never taken care of a woman like you.” 

You didn’t know when he managed to hike your legs up over his waist, his tip kissing at your clit and making you absentmindedly shudder. “That’s why you need me.”

It isn’t until you feel the press of his cock head inching inside of your heat that you’re taken out of your trance, your mouth falling open into an ‘O’ as a whimper leaves your lips. “Only I can take care of you. Be everything my son isn’t— a man.” 

“Yeah,” you agree with a meek nod, feeling the intrusion of his cock seer through you. 

“Yeah?” Nanami hums, pressing deeper and deeper into you until he’s fully sheathed. His breathing staggers a bit before regaining control. “I’m the only man you need. The only man that can give you what you need, hm?”

“Yes, Kento,” you whine and whimper, feeling how he pauses to get you acclimated. “I only need you. You’re perfect for me.”

One more chaste kiss before he’s pulling out of you, the head prodding at your entrance. A thought he’s unaware he’s said out loud, And you’re perfect for me. 

His length is thick and stretches open your walls, making you feel fuller than you’ve ever felt with any of your past partners. His hips don’t move with that same motion he had in his younger years. No longer languid movements, but growing rougher in age. Each thrust is calculated and hard against your pussy. His deep groans and grunts make your mind spiral and your eyes constantly flutter as each sound spills from his mouth. At some point, he comes to hold your face and does nothing else. A small and simple gesture that makes you melt into him. 

Your pussy, while used, sucks him up in a tight grip that doesn’t make him want to ever leave it. He finds himself stuck at the thought of leaving the sweetness that it is, your cunt a gift to him from heavens themself. Your hands wrap around his neck, nails digging into his fragile skin and sure to bruise as your legs tense up around him, his eyes flutter shut. “Gosh, it’s like your pussy was made for me to enjoy.”

And when he brings you to orgasm, you entrap him with your legs and call for his release as well. You milk of what he’s worth, letting him empty himself out into you without any concerns of the repercussions. You let out high-pitched mewls and moans when he rolls to the other side of the bed, having to take a moment to catch his breath. However, with your body running ablaze, a heat still sparked inside of you, you tiredly move yourself to hover over his frame and catch him off guard. “Wha— What are you doing?” 

“I need more of you.” The tip of his cock still leaking his seed and your pussy dripping of your intermingled cum, you press your cunt against his length. Grinding yourself against his softening length in hopes to liven him up again, you watch as he chuckles exhaustedly. “A pretty thing like you will surely lead me to my deathbed.”

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[aisiedaisie]

Royal Flush

Authors Note: I'm currently recovering from surgery so I apologize for a lack of updates. I am recovering well, thankfully, but it's been really difficult to sit and write for long periods of time... I'm so sorry!!! However, we finally have an update~ If there are any grammatical errors I apologize most of this was written via voice to text my little loophole for writing right now.

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

Pairing: Poly!Marauders x Fem!Reader WC: 3.7K

Morning arrived with an unceremonious jolt as a series of sharp knocks shattered the fragile peace of your slumber. You groaned, barely able to push yourself upright before the door creaked open without waiting for your response.

Molly strode in with a bounce in her step, the morning sun catching on her copper curls as they bobbed with her movement. She wore her usual mischievous grin, her hands planted firmly on her hips like she was about to deliver some grand proclamation.

“Good morning, my lady,” she chimed, her voice dripping with exaggerated sweetness.

Still groggy, you blinked at her, confusion clouding your mind. “Molly— what are you—”

Before you could finish, she closed the door with a deliberate click and leaned against it, her grin widening. Her expression practically sparkled with mischief, and you suddenly felt very exposed.

“A little birdie,” she began, her tone light and almost singsong, “told me something very interesting this morning.”

A faint sense of dread began to creep into your chest. “What do you mean?” you asked cautiously, though a part of you already suspected where this was heading.

Molly tilted her head, her coy expression unwavering. “Oh, nothing much. Just that my brothers—lovely lads, part of the Griffyn Guard, as you know— happened to spot someone leaving your chambers at an awfully early hour.”

Your stomach dropped. Bolting upright, you felt the blood rush from your head, leaving you dizzy. “What?” you croaked, the word barely audible.

Molly raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying your flustered reaction. “Don’t look so scandalized, my lady,” she teased. “They weren’t sure who it was at first— until they got a better look. And wouldn’t you know it, the person bore an uncanny resemblance to Sir Sirius Black.”

Your heart leapt into your throat as her words hung in the air. You scrambled for a response, but your tongue felt like lead.

Molly’s grin turned positively feline. She crossed her arms, her eyes twinkling with glee. “So,” she drawled, “is there something you’d like to share? A midnight rendezvous, perhaps?”

You gaped at her, heat rushing to your face. “Molly!” you finally managed, your voice a mix of exasperation and embarrassment.

She chuckled, pushing off the door and sauntering closer. “Oh, don’t worry,” she said, waving a hand dismissively. “I’m not about to start spreading tales. But you can’t blame a girl for being curious.”

“Nothing happened,” you sigh, waving a hand dismissively toward Molly’s pointed, curious stare. “He was just helping me back to my room after I went for a stroll in the gardens.”

Molly tilted her head, her auburn curls swaying with the motion, her brows raised in a way that told you she didn’t believe a single word of it. Still, she offered a shrug, deciding— for now, at least— not to press the matter further.

“If you say so, my lady,” she said with a sly smile that suggested she wasn’t quite finished teasing you.

_____

The rest of the early morning passed in a whirlwind of Molly’s endless energy and rapid fire explanations as she led you through more of the castle. At last, you discovered the kitchens, tucked away in a cozy corner of the palace. The scent of fresh bread and simmering stews greeted you as Molly proudly declared, “And here’s where the magic happens.”

You were introduced to the bustling cooks and kitchen staff, their aprons dusted with flour and their sleeves rolled up as they worked around the large stone hearth. They greeted you warmly, one even offering you a freshly baked roll that you nibbled on thankfully as Molly dragged you back into the halls.

From there, she brought you by the meeting rooms, where, unsurprisingly, the princess was once again trapped in an endless string of meetings.

Mary and Marlene stood near the door to the meeting chamber, their postures casual yet attentive.

“Lily is still in there?” You ask, your tone equal parts amused and exasperated.

Mary sighed, crossing her arms as she leaned against the stone wall. “Still in there,” she confirmed with a knowing look.

“We can’t even go inside,” Marlene added, gesturing toward the grand double doors. “It’d be overkill for all of us to just stand around waiting for her highness. Besides,” she added with a grimace, “I’m not sitting through another one of those meetings unless I’m being forced.”

Mary turned to you with an understanding smile and waved you off. “Don’t worry about her. Our lady is used to this. She’ll find us when she’s free.”

Before you could even offer to wait with them, Molly was already ushering you away, her hands lightly pushing you down the hall like a mother shooing her child away from adult conversations.

“Come on, no use hovering around,” she said cheerily. “Let’s find something else to do.”

You glanced back over your shoulder at the closed doors of the meeting chamber, feeling a faint pang of sympathy for Lily. Then, sighing in resignation, you allowed Molly to steer you away, her chatter quickly filling the quiet corridors as the castle unfolded before you once more.

_____

You spent the remainder of the morning seated by the window, warm sunlight streaming through the frosty glass, as Molly animatedly filled the air with her knowledge about the capital’s shops.

It had started with a simple question about winter dresses— your wardrobe clearly unprepared for the fast approaching frigid temperatures— and Molly had launched into a detailed breakdown of every reputable boutique in town.

Her enthusiasm was contagious, her smile bright as she spoke of fabric selections, embroidery styles, and which tailors were secretly overrated. But as her words spilled forth like a rushing stream, you began to feel the sheer amount of information cloud your thoughts.

“Thank you, Molly,” you said finally, with a gentle laugh that masked your slight overwhelm. “When I’m able, I’d like to go into town to—”

Molly, never one to hesitate, practically bounced in place. “We can go now, if you’d like, my lady!” she offered eagerly, already standing and smoothing down the front of her skirts in preparation.

You glanced at the small ornate clock perched on the vanity. The delicate golden hands crept closer to midday. Your heart fluttered, and you quickly shook your head, reaching out to grasp Molly’s hand before she could get too far. “Perhaps tomorrow?” you suggested gently.

Her brows lifted in curiosity, the question clear in her expression even though she didn’t voice it.

You averted your gaze, busying yourself by tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, and answered her unspoken query. “I promised Sir Sirius I would meet with him today. Around noon.”

Your voice dropped slightly, softened with a tone you hadn’t intended to use. Your head bowed just enough to mask the warmth spreading across your cheeks, though you doubted Molly missed it.

The memories of last night— the way Sirius had lingered just long enough for you to feel his sincerity— still hovered fresh and vivid in your mind.

Molly’s lips quirked upward, a knowing smile tugging at the corners. “Ah, I see,” she teased, leaning closer in mock secrecy. “Well, far be it from me to come between you and a certain knight, my lady.”

“Molly…” you groan, your cheeks as warm as they could be as you shoot her an admonishing look.

But she merely laughed, her giggles bright and carefree as they echoed through the room.

“Well, we should doll you up then,” Molly declared with a mischievous grin, already eyeing your hair and outfit as if she were mentally drafting a plan. “Not that you really need it—"

“It’s not a date,” you interrupted with a soft laugh, shaking your head at her enthusiasm.

Molly’s brows rose ever so slightly, clearly unconvinced. “Not a date?” she repeated, a teasing lilt in her voice as she crossed her arms.

You rolled your eyes, though a faint smile tugged at your lips. “It isn’t. I was asked to meet with Sir Sirius, Sir Remus, and His Highness after his classes this morning,” you explained, watching as her smile grew impossibly wider.

“Even more reason to doll you up!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together as if your explanation had only solidified her resolve.

Before you could protest, Molly had already begun rifling through your wardrobe with the fervor of someone on a mission. “Let’s see,” she muttered under her breath, pulling out gowns and holding them up against the light. “Too formal… too plain… oh, this one!” She spun around, holding a light blue gown trimmed with silver embroidery that shimmered faintly in the morning light.

“Molly, really—”

“Oh, hush,” she interrupted, her tone both firm and playful as she laid the gown on the bed and began fussing with your hair. “You may not think it’s a date, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t look stunning. You’re meeting with the prince, my lady. A little effort never hurt anyone.”

You sighed in surrender, letting her take the reins as she braided your hair into an elegant, simple style. As she worked, her chatter filled the room, alternating between playful teasing about your 'not a date' and genuine compliments about how the color of the dress would bring out your eyes.

By the time she was finished, you couldn’t help but admire her handiwork. The gown fit perfectly, and the subtle sparkle of the embroidery caught the light whenever you moved. Your hair, braided and pinned just so, framed your face delicately.

“There,” Molly said with a satisfied smile, stepping back to admire her work. “Now you’re ready to meet your knight—and your prince.”

You shot her a pointed look, but the warmth of your smile betrayed you. “Thank you, Molly. But really, this isn’t—”

“Save it,” she interrupted with a wink, shooing you toward the door. “Go on, my lady. You don’t want to keep them waiting.”

As you left the room, you couldn’t help but feel a slight flutter of nerves mixed with anticipation. It wasn’t a date, you reminded yourself again, but something about the way Sirius had smiled at you the night before made it hard to ignore the possibilities lingering in the air.

_____

The walk to the library was nerve wracking. Your heart thrummed in your ears, each step feeling as though it drained the energy from your body. Yet, despite the nervous fluttering in your chest, you pressed on, determined to keep your promise.

Soon enough, you found yourself standing before the grand double doors of the library, slightly ajar to reveal a world of endless shelves and tables bathed in soft golden light.

Pushing the doors open wider, you stepped inside. The scent of parchment and aged leather greeted you, a soothing yet slightly overwhelming aroma. Rows upon rows of books stretched toward the ceiling, interspersed with towering ladders that hinted at the sheer scale of the collection.

At the center of it all stood an older man, his back straight and his movements deliberate. He cradled two hefty books against his chest, his expression warm and inviting. For a brief moment, you swore you'd seen his face before, and then it struck you— this must be the prince’s tutor and, by extension, Remus’s father.

The realization had you bowing your head quickly in a polite gesture as you stepped aside to let him pass.

“Ah, thank you, my lady,” he said with a gentle chuckle, his voice kind and refined.

You murmured a soft response, still bowing your head slightly, and watched as he left the library. The sound of his footsteps faded into the corridor beyond, leaving you alone with the three figures still in the room.

James sat at one of the tables across from Remus, a scattering of books and scrolls spread between them. James’s hand rested lightly on the edge of a page, mid-turn, while Remus appeared to be explaining something, his tone low and measured.

And then there was Sirius, leaning casually against a bookshelf just behind James. His dark hair fell across his face in soft waves, and his arms were crossed in a way that gave him a roguish, unbothered air. Yet the moment his gaze landed on you, his posture shifted ever so slightly— his shoulders straightened, and a faint, almost imperceptible smile tugged at his lips.

“Well,” James said, his voice breaking the quiet reverie. He closed his book with a soft thud and grinned at you. “Look who decided to join us.”

You smiled nervously, stepping further into the room. “I hope I’m not interrupting,” you said softly, your gaze flitting between them.

“Not at all,” Remus assured, his tone steady and reassuring. “We were just finishing up.”

Sirius pushed off the bookcase then, walking toward you with an easy grace that belied the warmth in his stormy gray eyes. “You made it,” he said, his voice quieter than usual, though the smile on his lips widened ever so slightly.

You nodded, feeling your cheeks warm under his gaze. “I promised I would try to come by.”

James exchanged a knowing look with Remus, who merely raised a brow in quiet amusement before returning his attention to closing the books in front of him.

“Well,” James said, clapping his hands together and standing. “Since we’re done with lessons for the day, why don’t we get out of here? The library’s a bit too stuffy for a proper conversation, don’t you think?”

Sirius turned back to look at you, waiting for your response. Your throat felt dry, but you managed a nod. “That sounds lovely.”

“Perfect,” James said with a grin, looping an arm around Remus’s shoulder as they began to gather their things. Sirius lingered at your side, his presence both grounding and slightly overwhelming.

As the four of you made your way out of the library, you couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of ease and anticipation— like the faint hum of an incoming storm.

Though you trusted their lead, uncertainty began to creep in when you realized you had no idea where you were heading. Lingering just a step behind, you took note of every turn, trying to memorize the path. You knew it would be just your luck to wander into an unfamiliar wing later and find yourself hopelessly lost.

That thought proved prophetic when James turned into a hallway you hadn’t seen before. The cold, bare stone of the earlier halls gave way to a long, deep red carpet that ran the length of the corridor. The walls, too, grew more ornate, boasting intricate carvings and golden accents. This wing was somehow even more luxurious than the one you had been staying in with Lily.

The opulence only deepened as you were led into a sitting room. The space was warm and inviting, the kind of elegance that whispered of understated power. Wine colored velvet couches framed a glass table adorned with delicate gold trim, the craftsmanship so fine you almost hesitated to look too long. 

Sheer white curtains framed tall windows, allowing sunlight to filter through the leaves of trees outside. The dappled light danced across the room in soft patches, adding a gentle glow to the otherwise regal atmosphere.

“Have a seat, my lady.”

Remus’s calm, steady voice drew you out of your thoughts. You blinked, startled by how deeply you had been observing the room, and turned to find him gesturing to one of the couches.

“Oh,” you breathed, your cheeks warming as you realized you had been standing there for longer than was intended. “Thank you.”

With a soft nod, you stepped forward and sank into one of the couches. The velvet cushions were as plush as they looked, enveloping you in a quiet sort of comfort. It was a stark contrast to the fluttering nerves in your chest.

James and Sirius took seats across from you, Sirius choosing the armrest rather than the couch itself, while James lounged with a carefree ease that only seemed to amplify the princely air about him. Remus, ever the gentleman, settled beside you, though he left a polite distance between you.

“So,” James began, his tone bright as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “What do you think of the castle so far?”

“It’s… breathtaking,” you admitted honestly, your gaze flicking around the room once more. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how grand it all is.”

James grinned, his hazel eyes sparkling with amusement. “You’d be surprised. Give it a few weeks, and you’ll be wandering these halls like you own the place.”

“Or,” Sirius interjected, his tone light but teasing, “you’ll get hopelessly lost and end up in the kitchens. Not that it’s a bad place to be.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “I’m trying to avoid that fate, but I can’t make any promises.”

Remus chuckled quietly beside you, the sound low and warm. “If it happens, you’ll have plenty of people willing to guide you back. Sirius especially seems to enjoy playing the knight in shining armor.”

Sirius shot him a playful glare, but there was no heat behind it. “I don’t see you volunteering to help.”

“That’s because I have faith in her sense of direction,” Remus replied smoothly, his lips quirking into a small smile as he turned to you. “But should you need it, I’d be happy to help as well.”

The warmth in his gaze made your heart skip a beat, and you found yourself nodding before you even fully registered his words. “Thank you, Remus. I’ll keep that in mind.”

James clapped his hands together, breaking the quiet moment. “Alright, enough teasing. Let’s enjoy ourselves, shall we? We’ve got plenty of time before duty calls again.”

The casual rapport in the air eased the last of your nerves, and you allowed yourself to relax into the couch, a soft smile gracing your lips. 

Sirius was the one to break the comfortable silence, his voice smooth but direct as he leaned forward from his perch on the armrest. “So,” he began, his grey eyes flicking between you and the others, “how did you want to go about this?”

His words hung in the air like a thread waiting to be pulled, and the mood shifted ever so slightly.

Remus let out a quiet sigh, his hand lifting to pinch the bridge of his nose in obvious exasperation. “Must we always jump straight to the point, Sirius? Can we not ease into this for once?”

James, lounging with his typical air of princely mischief, bit back a chuckle, his amber eyes glinting with amusement. “I hate to say it, but Siri has a point. I think being upfront might actually help here, Rem.”

At that, Remus’s eyes rolled toward the ceiling, the smallest twitch of a smile betraying his otherwise irritated expression. “Fine,” he relented, gesturing loosely with his hand as though passing the baton. “By all means, one of you take the lead.”

James straightened a little in his seat, clearly ready to jump in, but Sirius beat him to it. His gaze settled on you, steady but not unkind, the sharp edges of his humor softened for the moment.

“We wanted to talk to you about something important,” Sirius said, his tone unusually measured. “And, well, it’s not exactly the easiest thing to bring up.”

You tilted your head slightly, curiosity sparking in your chest as you met his gaze. “Important?” you echoed, your voice tentative.

Remus sighed again, though there was less frustration and more resignation in the sound now. “Yes, important,” he confirmed, sitting up straighter as if to lend weight to his words. “It concerns you… and us, I suppose.”

James, ever the bold one, leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees his hands intertwined as he grinned at you with that boyish smile. “We’ve all grown quite fond of you,” he said, his tone light but earnest.

Your brows knitted together in confusion, and you glanced between the three of them. “I… don’t quite understand,” you admitted, your heart thudding louder with each passing second.

Sirius exchanged a brief glance with James, then Remus, before turning back to you. “We’re trying to say that we care about you,” he explained, his voice softer now. “Not just as acquaintances or friends. Something more than that.”

The room seemed to tilt slightly, your breath catching as the weight of his words settled over you. “You mean… all of you?” you asked hesitantly, your cheeks warming as you tried to process.

Remus nodded, his expression as calm and reassuring as ever. “Yes. All of us.”

James smiled warmly, the sincerity in his eyes dispelling any lingering doubt. “You don’t have to give us an answer now,” he said quickly, his tone gentle. “We just… We just wanted you to know how we feel.”

Your gaze dropped to your hands, which were clasped tightly in your lap, your thoughts a whirlwind of emotions you couldn’t quite pin down. When you finally looked up again, the three of them were watching you with varying degrees of hope and apprehension, their vulnerability as evident as if they’d laid it bare.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. You were flattered— their words sincere, their intentions genuine as far as you could tell— but something inside you hesitated. “Is it not too soon to talk of being so taken with someone like this? It’s barely been three days since—”

Sirius’s faint smile softened further, his usual cocky demeanor tempered by a rare tenderness. “Then don’t say anything,” he murmured, his voice low but steady. “Just think about it. That’s all we ask.”

You nodded slowly, your chest tight with a mix of uncertainty and something far warmer, something that made your heart ache in the most confusingly wonderful way. “I will,” you promised, your voice steady despite the turmoil within.

The three of them seemed to relax at your words, and James, ever the optimist, clapped his hands together with a grin. “Well, now that that’s out of the way, shall we order some food? I’m starving.”

The tension in the room broke like a wave, leaving behind a tentative sense of relief. You couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound a welcome release after the intensity of the moment. 

“Food does sound good,” you admitted, allowing yourself a small smile.

As the conversation shifted to lighter topics, you found yourself glancing at each of them in turn, the weight of their confession still lingering in the air between you.

You didn’t have all the answers yet, but for now, you were content to simply exist in this moment.

tag list: @amatoanima @wolfstar4everbitches @bugworldsworld @ilovejamespottersomuch @garden-h0bbit @dearmy-diary @yejiswifex @bmyva1entine @emerald-jade1 @miliokumura3 @amandinhagg @thewitchesofart

[mcrdvcks]

—what is this feeling? part 2

summary: You and Peter have known each other since you were kids—only because you were friends with his distant cousin Olivia. While you have harbored a crush on him for years, you're sure he doesn't feel the same.

word count: 15.3k+ (31.6k+ total)

pairing: Peter Lyman x fem!reader

notes: this is the second part to this (long) oneshot since tumblr has a word limit. the summary and warning/tags are the same

warnings/tags: loosely follows event of scoop (2006) but not canon, miscommunication, shy!reader, slow burn, jealousy, angst, mention of murder/death, toxic peter lyman, but also sweet peter lyman (the duality of man), happy ending, not proofread

⁠♡ part 1 ♡

You had taken off work for a few days, ruminating in what felt like heartbreak. Luckily you were someone who almost never took off work, so you had more than enough hours piled up to use.

The TV played reruns of Doctor Who while you ate out of a tub of ice cream, staring blankly at the screen. You weren’t even sure which episode you were watching; it all blurred together in the haze of your thoughts. The sound of the doorbell broke through, and you froze, the spoon halfway to your mouth.

You sighed, setting the ice cream down and dragging yourself to the door. Peeking through the peephole, you felt your breath hitch. It was Peter.

He stood there, impossibly calm, dressed casually but still somehow looking polished. His hand rested lightly against the doorframe, and for a moment, he seemed to glance around the hallway as if debating whether to knock again.

Your heart thumped heavily in your chest, but you didn’t open the door. You didn’t even say anything, staying completely still as you stared through the peephole.

Peter shifted slightly, running a hand through his hair before leaning closer to the door. “Y/N, I know you’re in there,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “I saw the light on.”

You stayed silent, leaning against the door for balance.

He sighed, a faint edge of frustration creeping into his tone. “Please, just let me talk to you. Five minutes, that’s all I’m asking.”

You bit your lip, your fingers twitching against the lock, but you didn’t move.

“I know I’ve made a mess of things,” Peter continued, his voice quieter now. “But I can’t fix it if you won’t talk to me.”

You leaned your forehead against the door, closing your eyes. The ice cream was melting on the coffee table, the TV droning on in the background, but none of it mattered in this moment.

Peter exhaled sharply, the sound muffled through the door. “Alright,” he said finally, his tone resigned. “If you don’t want to see me, I’ll go. But, Y/N, I need you to know something.”

You tensed, waiting.

“I meant what I said at the garden party,” he said, his voice carrying a rare vulnerability that caught you off guard. “You don’t have to stay with him. You deserve better than Joshua—or anyone else who makes you feel like you’re just… settling.”

Your heart clenched, but you didn’t move.

“And Jade…” Peter hesitated, his voice faltering for the first time. “That’s nothing. It’s always been nothing. I don’t… I didn’t handle it the right way. But I thought—” He stopped, taking a breath. “It doesn’t matter. None of it does if you don’t believe me.”

Silence fell between you, thick and heavy. Peter waited for a beat longer before stepping back. “I’ll leave you alone,” he said quietly. “But if you change your mind… you know where to find me.”

You heard his footsteps retreating down the hall, but you stayed frozen in place, your forehead still pressed against the door. Your chest ached with the weight of his words, but no matter how much you wanted to, you couldn’t bring yourself to open the door.

Not yet.

---

Joshua, over the course of the next week, brought you flowers and takeout, even going as far as cleaning your living room and kitchen while you were at work.

"Y/N," Olivia said on the phone one evening while you sat on the couch surrounded by fresh blooms, the faint smell of lemon cleaner still hanging in the air. "He cleaned your apartment? Like, voluntarily?"

"Yes," you replied, sinking deeper into the cushions. "He said it was no trouble and that he just wanted to help while I was busy with work."

Olivia let out a low whistle. "Wow. That’s… effort. Are you sure he’s not angling for sainthood?"

You rolled your eyes, though a small smile tugged at your lips. "He’s just thoughtful, Liv. It’s nice."

"Nice," she echoed, her tone skeptical. "You’ve been using that word a lot lately. You sure you’re not just convincing yourself?"

You frowned, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. "I don’t know. He’s been really sweet, and he’s easy to talk to. It’s just… I feel like something’s missing."

"Uh, yeah," Olivia said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "That ‘something’ is probably tall, charming, and currently sulking somewhere because you won’t talk to him."

"Don’t," you warned, closing your eyes.

"Y/N," Olivia pressed. "You can’t avoid Peter forever. He’s not the type to let things go."

"I’m not avoiding him," you said weakly.

"You are, and honestly? I get it. He was a complete ass," Olivia admitted. "But I also know you. You’re still into him, aren’t you?"

You stayed quiet, the weight of her question pressing down on your chest.

"That’s what I thought," Olivia said softly. "Look, I’m not saying you should forgive him or whatever. But maybe you should at least hear him out. If he really feels bad, he’ll make it right."

"Maybe," you murmured, but the doubt still lingered.

"Just think about it," Olivia said before changing the subject to the latest gossip about her coworkers.

---

Two days later, the inevitable happened. You were leaving work, your bag slung over your shoulder as you stepped into the cool evening air. And there he was.

Peter leaned against the side of his car, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat. His hair was slightly tousled, like he’d been running his fingers through it, and his gaze was fixed on you with an intensity that made your steps falter.

"Y/N," he said, straightening as you approached.

You stopped a few feet away, your heart hammering in your chest. "What are you doing here?"

"I was hoping to talk to you," he said, his voice softer than you expected. "Just for a minute. Please."

You hesitated, glancing around as if searching for an escape, but you knew there wasn’t one. With a sigh, you nodded. "Fine. One minute."

Peter’s shoulders relaxed slightly, and he took a step closer. "I owe you an apology," he began, his tone earnest. "For everything. For what I said, for what I did… for all of it."

You looked down, gripping the strap of your bag tightly. "You hurt me, Peter. You can’t just… say things like that and then do the opposite. It’s not fair."

"I know," he said quickly. "And you’re right. I was out of line. I thought I could—" He stopped, running a hand through his hair. "I thought I could make you see how much I cared by… I don’t even know what I was thinking. But it was stupid, and I’m sorry."

You glanced up at him, your chest tightening at the genuine regret in his eyes. "Why did you do it?"

Peter hesitated, his gaze searching yours. "Because I didn’t know how else to get your attention. I didn’t want to just tell you how I felt and risk losing you altogether."

"Felt?" you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Feel," he corrected softly, stepping closer. "Y/N, I’ve cared about you for longer than I want to admit. And seeing you with Joshua… it drove me mad. But that doesn’t excuse what I did."

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling over you. "Peter…"

"I don’t expect you to forgive me right away," he said, his voice low. "But I couldn’t let things end the way they did. You mean too much to me."

Your eyes stung with unshed tears, but you blinked them away, nodding slowly. "I don’t know if I can trust you, Peter. Not yet."

"I’ll earn it," he said firmly, his gaze unwavering. "Whatever it takes."

For the first time in weeks, you felt a glimmer of hope. It didn’t erase the hurt, but it was enough to let him back in—just a little.

"Okay," you said softly. "But don’t make me regret it."

Peter’s lips curved into a faint smile, and he nodded. "I won’t."

---

Over the next week, Peter kept his word. He didn’t overwhelm you with grand gestures, but he was present in small, meaningful ways. He texted to check in, brought you your favorite tea during your lunch break, and even helped Olivia fix her leaky faucet when he visited her apartment.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough to remind you of why you’d fallen for him in the first place.

But you still weren’t completely over what he did, which is why when Joshua invited you to his father’s Bonfire Night party you hesitated, before ultimately saying yes.

Olivia stood by you, her gold dress shimmering in the setting sun. “I can’t believe you almost ditched me.”

You adjusted the strap of your dress, avoiding her pointed look. “I wasn’t ditching you. I just… wasn’t sure I wanted to come.”

“Because Peter’s here,” Olivia said flatly, crossing her arms. “And because you’re here with Joshua.”

You winced. “It’s not that simple.”

“Sure it is,” she shot back, her voice light but sharp. “You like Peter. You’re dating Joshua. And you’re stuck in the world’s most uncomfortable love triangle.”

“Olivia,” you groaned, rubbing your temples. “Can we not do this right now?”

She raised an eyebrow, her tone softening slightly. “I’m just saying, Y/N. You’re not going to magically figure this out by avoiding the problem.”

“I’m not avoiding anything,” you muttered, though even you didn’t believe it.

Olivia sighed dramatically. “Fine. Let’s focus on surviving the party. Smile, mingle, and try not to look like you’re walking on eggshells the whole night.”

“Thanks for the pep talk,” you said dryly.

“You’re welcome,” she quipped, looping her arm through yours. “Now come on. Joshua’s looking for you.”

You spotted Joshua near one of the fire pits, his easy smile and polished demeanor perfectly suited for the crowd. He waved when he saw you, and you managed a small wave back.

“I’ll catch you later,” Olivia said, giving you a knowing look before slipping into the crowd.

Joshua greeted you with a kiss on the cheek and handed you a glass of champagne. “You look stunning,” he said warmly.

“Thanks,” you replied, feeling a little stiff. “This party’s… something.”

“Father does enjoy going all out,” Joshua said with a chuckle, his hand resting lightly on your back. “Shall we?”

You nodded, letting him guide you toward a group of guests.

---

It wasn’t long before you saw him. Peter stood near the bar, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit that made him look effortlessly sophisticated. He was talking to a small group, his charm on full display, but his eyes flicked to you the moment you entered his line of sight.

You quickly looked away, focusing on the champagne flute in your hand.

“Everything alright?” Joshua asked, his voice low.

“Yeah,” you said quickly, forcing a smile. “Just a little overwhelmed.”

“I’ll get us some air later,” he promised, brushing his fingers against yours.

You nodded, grateful for his thoughtfulness, even as your heart raced for entirely different reasons.

---

As the night wore on, you found yourself standing near one of the smaller fire pits, Joshua engaged in a conversation with Lord Westford. You sipped your champagne quietly, your gaze drifting to the crowd.

“Enjoying yourself?” Peter’s voice came from behind you, smooth and calm.

You turned, finding him closer than you expected. “Peter,” you said, your voice slightly breathless. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s a party,” he said with a faint smirk. “What are you doing here?”

You frowned. “I was invited.”

“Ah,” he said, his gaze flicking briefly toward Joshua before settling back on you. “Of course.”

“Is there something you need?” you asked, your tone more defensive than you intended.

Peter’s smirk faded, replaced by something softer. “I wanted to check on you. You aren’t exactly the biggest fan of fireworks.”

Your eyes momentarily widened. Through all your mixed feelings, you had forgotten what today really was. Bonfire Night.

"I…" you started, gripping the edge of your champagne flute. "I’m fine. It’s just a little loud, that’s all."

Peter’s gaze softened, his hands resting casually in his pockets. "You’ve never liked fireworks."

You shrugged, trying to brush it off. "I’ve gotten better about it."

"Have you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Because if memory serves, you’d always end up inside with a book before the first rocket went off."

You glanced away, heat rising to your cheeks. "That was years ago."

"Not that many years," Peter said lightly, tilting his head toward the nearby house. "Come on. Let’s go inside."

"I’m fine," you protested quickly, though your voice wavered. "I don’t need to hide from a few fireworks anymore."

Peter didn’t move, his expression calm but insistent. "It’s not hiding, Y/N. It’s taking care of yourself. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone."

You hesitated, glancing toward the sky where a few bursts of color lit up the night. The sound wasn’t deafening yet, but you could feel the familiar knot forming in your chest.

Peter waited, watching you carefully. "We don’t have to stay inside the whole night," he added softly. "Just long enough to avoid the worst of it. Like old times."

The way he said it—gentle, without judgment—made you waver. He wasn’t pushing, just… offering. And you knew he had your best interests in mind, as he always had when it came to this.

"Okay," you said finally, your voice barely audible.

Peter smiled, his relief barely noticeable but there. He held out his hand, not in an exaggerated gesture, but simple and natural, like he’d done a hundred times before.

You didn’t hesitate long before slipping your hand into his.

---

Inside the house, the noise from outside was muffled, the steady hum of distant conversations replacing the sharp pops and whistles of the fireworks. Peter led you to a quiet sitting room with a plush sofa and an unlit fireplace.

“Better?” he asked, glancing back at you.

You nodded, taking a seat on the sofa. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Peter settled into the armchair across from you, his posture relaxed but his gaze attentive. “You always hated the noise,” he said, his tone casual. “Even when Olivia and I tried to drag you outside to watch.”

“You didn’t try that hard,” you pointed out, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “You usually gave up after five minutes and left me alone.”

Peter chuckled. “Fair. Olivia’s the persistent one.”

You shook your head, leaning back against the cushions. “She still is. She made me come tonight, even though I wasn’t sure…” You trailed off, catching yourself.

Peter’s expression softened, but he didn’t press. “I’m glad you did,” he said after a moment. “It’s nice to see you outside of work or… tense situations.”

You glanced at him, your cheeks warming. “Yeah. It’s… nice.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The quiet was comfortable, the kind of silence that didn’t demand to be filled.

Peter broke it first, his voice low. “Do you remember that time Olivia dared me to set off fireworks in her backyard? You were so mad at me.”

“I wasn’t mad,” you said quickly, though you couldn’t stop the smile spreading across your face. “I was terrified. You nearly burned down her dad’s shed.”

“Nearly,” Peter emphasized, his grin widening. “And I apologized. Multiple times.”

“You should’ve apologized to her dad,” you teased. “I’m pretty sure he still doesn’t trust you near anything flammable.”

Peter laughed, the sound warm and familiar. “Probably not. But it was worth it to see Olivia’s face when the rocket tipped over.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

“Maybe,” he said lightly, his gaze steady on yours. “But you’re smiling. That’s progress.”

You hesitated, your heart skipping a beat under his watchful eyes. “Thanks for… this,” you said softly, gesturing to the quiet room around you. “I didn’t realize how much I needed it.”

Peter leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. “Anytime, Y/N. You know that.”

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, and you looked away, suddenly shy. “We should probably head back soon,” you said, though you made no move to leave.

“Not yet,” Peter said gently. “Let’s give it a few more minutes. You deserve a break.”

You glanced at him, his expression calm and unhurried, and nodded. “Alright. A few more minutes.”

As the muffled sound of fireworks continued outside, you let yourself relax, grateful for the quiet—and for Peter.

---

“No, to the right. Now a little to the left… and, stop! Right there.” Olivia looked over at you, “ah, don’t you just love Christmas?”

You took a sip of your eggnog. “You mean the one time every year where your parents let you decorate for the Christmas party and you get to be your true, controlling self?”

Olivia smirked, adjusting the garland draped over the banister. “Exactly. They’re too busy hosting to care, and I get to make this place look perfect. It’s a win-win.”

You laughed softly, watching as she repositioned an ornament for the third time. “It’s a little terrifying how seriously you take this.”

“Hey, you’re drinking my eggnog, so I don’t want to hear it,” Olivia retorted, sticking her tongue out at you.

“Fair point,” you admitted, raising your glass in mock salute.

Just then, the front door opened, and the familiar sound of Peter’s voice carried through the entryway. “I’m not late, am I?”

“Peter!” Olivia called, her tone sharp but playful. “You’re always late. You’re just lucky the party hasn’t officially started yet.”

Peter stepped into the living room, shrugging out of his coat. He wore a dark sweater that hugged his frame just right, and the effortless confidence in his stride made your chest tighten. “Fashionably late,” he corrected, hanging his coat on the rack. His eyes found you almost immediately. “Y/N. I didn’t realize you’d be here so early.”

You held up your eggnog as if it were an explanation. “Olivia bribed me with holiday cheer.”

“And she’s been an excellent assistant,” Olivia added, grinning. “Even if she’s a bit snarky.”

Peter chuckled, leaning casually against the doorframe. “I’d expect nothing less.”

You glanced down at your glass, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his gaze. “Are you staying for the party?” you asked, your voice quieter than intended.

“Of course,” Peter replied, his tone warm. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

“Good,” Olivia interjected, hands on her hips. “Because you’re helping me hang the lights. Y/N’s been slacking.”

“Hey!” you protested, but Olivia just winked at you.

Peter’s smirk widened. “I’m happy to help.” He crossed the room, grabbing the box of lights from the corner. “Where do you want them?”

“Up by the fireplace,” Olivia instructed, already moving to supervise. “And try not to break anything. My dad still hasn’t forgiven you for the Great Vase Incident of ’98.”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “That was your fault, as I recall.”

“Details,” Olivia said breezily, waving him off.

You watched the two of them banter, a familiar pang tugging at your chest. They’d always been so comfortable with each other, their dynamic effortless and easy. And while Olivia never made you feel like an outsider, you couldn’t help but feel a little out of place when Peter was around.

“Y/N,” Peter said, pulling you out of your thoughts. He was holding up a strand of lights, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Care to lend a hand? Or are you too busy with your eggnog?”

You hesitated, your cheeks warming. “I—uh—sure.”

“Great,” he said, motioning for you to join him by the fireplace. “I’ll hold these up, and you can tell me if they’re straight.”

“Why do I feel like I’m being set up?” you asked, setting your glass down and walking over.

Peter grinned. “Because you are.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto your face.

---

As the three of you worked, the doorbell rang, and Olivia hurried to answer it. Joshua stepped inside, his polished appearance contrasting with the slightly chaotic energy of the room. “Y/N,” he said warmly, spotting you immediately. “You look lovely.”

“Thanks,” you said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “You made it just in time.”

“Perfect timing, as always,” Joshua replied, stepping closer. He glanced at Peter, who was adjusting the lights. “Peter.”

“Joshua,” Peter said evenly, not looking away from his task. His tone was polite, but there was an edge to it that you couldn’t ignore.

Joshua slid an arm lightly around your waist, and you tensed, feeling Peter’s gaze flick toward you. “This place looks great,” Joshua said, addressing Olivia as she returned. “You’ve outdone yourself.”

“Thank you,” Olivia said, her eyes darting between him and Peter. “It’s a team effort, though. Y/N’s been helping.”

“She always has good taste,” Joshua said, giving you a small squeeze.

Peter straightened, stepping down from the stool and dusting off his hands. “Well, the lights are up. Anything else, Liv?”

“Not for now,” Olivia said, her tone tight as she glanced at you. “Why don’t we all grab a drink and relax before the guests arrive?”

“Excellent idea,” Joshua said, steering you toward the kitchen. “Come on, Y/N.”

You followed him, feeling Peter’s eyes on you the entire way.

---

The party was in full swing now, the hum of conversation and soft clinking of glasses filling Olivia’s house. You and Joshua had been mingling for a while, though he seemed perfectly at ease, charming the small groups you joined. You, on the other hand, felt slightly out of place, your smile starting to feel a little forced as the evening dragged on.

“Having a good time?” Joshua asked, leaning closer so you could hear him over the noise.

“Yeah,” you said, nodding. “It’s nice.”

His lips quirked into a small smile. “Nice? That’s all?”

Before you could reply, a familiar voice interrupted.

“Y/N,” Peter said, stepping up beside you. His tone was polite, but his eyes were focused entirely on you. “Could I borrow you for a moment?”

Joshua’s brow furrowed slightly, though his expression remained composed. “Is it urgent?”

Peter smiled faintly. “I won’t keep her long.”

You hesitated, glancing at Joshua, who gave a small nod. “Go ahead. I’ll be here.”

“Thanks,” you said softly before turning to Peter. “Alright.”

Peter led you out of the crowded room and down the hall to a quieter corner near the library. The muffled sounds of the party faded as he closed the door behind you.

“Is everything okay?” you asked, your voice hesitant.

“Everything’s fine,” Peter said, his tone gentler now. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box, tied with a neat bow. “I just wanted to give you this.”

Your eyebrows shot up as you took the box from his hand. “What is it?”

“Open it and see,” he said, leaning casually against the wall, though his gaze never left your face.

You carefully untied the bow and lifted the lid. Inside was a delicate necklace with a simple arrow pendant, the silver catching the soft light of the room.

“Peter,” you breathed, your fingers brushing over the pendant. “It’s beautiful.”

“I’m glad you think so,” he said, his voice low. “It reminded me of you.”

“Of me?” you asked, looking up at him.

He smiled, a small, genuine curve of his lips. “Of the time Olivia convinced you to take archery lessons with her. You were better than all of us, even though you swore you’d be terrible.”

You laughed softly, a faint blush rising to your cheeks. “I forgot about that.”

“I didn’t,” he said simply, his eyes warm.

You hesitated, your thumb grazing the pendant again. “Thank you. It’s… really thoughtful.”

“Turn around,” he said gently, holding out his hand for the box. You passed it to him, feeling your heart race as you turned.

Peter stepped closer, his presence warm behind you. You held your breath as his fingers brushed your neck, clasping the necklace with a practiced ease. He lingered for a moment, his hands resting lightly on your shoulders before stepping back.

You turned to face him, your hand instinctively reaching for the pendant. “It’s perfect,” you said quietly, meeting his gaze.

Peter’s expression softened, but there was something unreadable in his eyes. “It suits you.”

You hesitated, your voice wavering as you asked, “Where’s Jade?”

He didn’t flinch, but his smile faded slightly. “She’s gone.”

“Gone?” you repeated, your brow furrowing. “What do you mean?”

Peter shrugged, his tone calm but final. “She left. That’s all there is to it.”

The way he said it left no room for further questions, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to press him anyway. Instead, you nodded slowly, your fingers still lightly gripping the pendant.

“Thank you, Peter,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He smiled again, a faint curve of his lips as he stepped closer. “You’re welcome, Y/N. Always.”

Before you could respond, the faint sound of someone calling your name reached the hallway. Peter glanced toward the door, his smile tightening.

“You should get back,” he said, his tone polite but distant.

“Right,” you said quickly, stepping toward the door. “Thanks again.”

Peter didn’t follow, leaning against the wall as you left. His eyes lingered on the empty doorway for a moment before he let out a slow breath, his expression unreadable.

---

Back in the main room, Joshua found you almost immediately. “There you are,” he said, his voice warm. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” you said quickly, offering a small smile. “Peter just… wanted to talk.”

Joshua studied you for a moment, his gaze flicking briefly to the necklace around your neck. “It’s nice,” he said evenly.

“Thanks,” you replied, your hand instinctively touching the pendant. “It was a gift.”

Joshua’s smile didn’t falter, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes. “Shall we?” he asked, offering his arm.

You nodded, looping your arm through his and letting him guide you back into the crowd. But as the night went on, you couldn’t shake the weight of the pendant resting against your collarbone—or the memory of Peter’s words.

---

Joshua walked you to your apartment door, his demeanor as composed as ever, though there was a subtle tension in his posture. He stood just inside the threshold, his hands in his coat pockets, glancing around the small entryway.

“You’re quiet,” you said softly, breaking the silence as you set your purse on the side table.

He gave you a faint smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Just thinking.”

You hesitated, unsure of what to say. “About what?”

Joshua took a slow breath, stepping closer. “About us.” He paused, his gaze steady. “Y/N, I know we’ve never… officially defined what we are, but I care about you. I need you to know that.”

Your chest tightened, and you glanced down, unable to meet his eyes. “I care about you too, Joshua.”

He tilted his head slightly, studying you. “I believe that. But I also think… you’re conflicted. And you have been for a while.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he held up a hand, his tone gentle. “I’m not angry, Y/N. And I’m not trying to make this harder for you. I just think it’s time to acknowledge what’s been hanging between us.”

You bit your lip, your fingers curling against the edge of the table. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t apologize,” he said quickly, stepping closer. “You haven’t done anything wrong. You’ve been honest with me, and I appreciate that. But I can see it, Y/N. You’re trying to force yourself to feel something you’re not sure about.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, but you blinked them away. “You’re a wonderful person, Joshua. I don’t want to hurt you.”

He smiled softly, the sadness in his eyes making your chest ache. “I know you don’t. And that’s why I’m telling you this now—so you have time to figure out what you really want.”

You frowned, your voice barely audible. “What do you mean?”

Joshua straightened slightly, his tone calm but resolute. “I’m leaving for a business trip tomorrow. I’ll be gone for a week. While I’m away, I want you to think about this—about us. And about him.”

Your breath hitched, and you looked up at him sharply. “Him?”

Joshua’s expression remained steady. “You don’t have to say it, Y/N. I know Peter’s a part of this, whether you realize it or not. I’ve seen the way you look at him, the way he looks at you. It’s not something you can ignore.”

You felt a lump forming in your throat, but you couldn’t find the words to respond.

“I’m not saying this to make you feel guilty,” Joshua continued gently. “I just… I need you to be honest with yourself. And with me.”

“Joshua…” you started, your voice breaking.

He gave you a reassuring smile, reaching out to lightly touch your arm. “It’s okay, Y/N. Whatever happens, I want you to be happy. That’s all that matters.”

Tears blurred your vision as you nodded, your voice trembling. “Thank you.”

He stepped back, his hand falling to his side. “Take care of yourself, alright? I’ll call you when I get back.”

You managed a small nod, watching as he turned and walked down the hall. The door clicked softly shut behind him, leaving you standing alone in the silence.

Your gaze dropped to the pendant around your neck, your fingers brushing against it lightly. The weight of his words settled over you, leaving you torn between guilt and relief. And as much as you tried to push it away, one thought lingered in the back of your mind:

You needed to figure out what you wanted. And it wasn’t just about Joshua. It was about Peter, too.

---

A few days later, you and Olivia stumbled into her apartment after a night at the club, a place you notoriously hate because of the crowds and loud noise. But you thought it couldn’t hurt to get out of your head a little bit, especially with what Joshua said before he left on his business trip.

Olivia reached for the coat hook by her front door, trying to place her coat on the rack as it fell to the ground. “Ah, fuck it. ‘M not gonna pick that up.”

You giggled, stumbling toward the couch. “You’re such a mess, Liv.”

“I’m a masterpiece, actually,” Olivia countered, pointing a finger in your direction before tripping slightly on the edge of the rug. “Oops. See? Flawless recovery.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, flopping onto the couch and kicking off your heels. Your feet ached, and your head was already buzzing from the drinks, but for the first time in days, you didn’t feel like crying.

Olivia flopped down next to you, grabbing a throw pillow and hugging it to her chest. “I’m not ridiculous. I’m living my best life. You’re the one who never lets loose.”

“Excuse me?” you said, raising an eyebrow. “Who just spent the entire night dancing, even though they hate crowds?”

“That’s fair,” she admitted, waving the pillow at you. “I’m proud of you for actually showing up. I thought I’d have to drag you there kicking and screaming.”

“You practically did,” you pointed out, leaning your head back against the couch. “But it wasn’t… the worst thing ever.”

Olivia gasped dramatically, clutching her chest. “Did Y/N just admit she had fun? Someone call the press!”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help smiling. “Don’t push it.”

She smirked, tossing the pillow aside and grabbing the remote. “So, what’s the plan? Sleep? Food? Another drink?”

“I can’t even think about drinking right now,” you said, groaning. “I need water and something greasy, or I’m going to regret this in the morning.”

“Got it,” Olivia said, standing unsteadily and heading toward the kitchen. “I think I’ve got leftover pizza in the fridge. Want me to heat it up, or are we going full savage mode?”

“Savage mode,” you said, laughing. “I’m too tired to wait.”

Olivia returned with a box of cold pizza and two bottles of water, dropping onto the couch with a triumphant grin. “Bon appétit.”

You grabbed a slice, taking a bite and sighing contentedly. “This is exactly what I needed.”

“See? Clubbing isn’t so bad,” Olivia said, grabbing a slice for herself. “You just need the right ending.”

“Clubbing is still bad,” you replied between bites. “But this? This is good.”

She laughed, nudging your shoulder. “I’ll take it. Baby steps, Y/N.”

You both sat in comfortable silence for a while, the sound of the TV filling the room as you worked through the pizza.

Eventually, Olivia broke the quiet. “So… how’re you feeling about everything? With Joshua, I mean.”

You paused, your fingers playing with the edge of the pizza box. “I don’t know. He’s been amazing. Thoughtful, sweet, everything you’d want, right?”

“But?” Olivia prompted, tilting her head.

You sighed, leaning back against the couch. “But I keep second-guessing everything. Like, is it fair to him if I’m not… all in? Am I being honest with myself? I just feel so—”

“Conflicted?” Olivia finished gently.

“Yeah,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

She reached over, squeezing your hand. “Hey, it’s okay to feel that way. You’re not a robot. And you’re not a villain for trying to figure out what you want.”

You nodded, but the guilt still gnawed at you. “I just don’t want to hurt him. He doesn’t deserve that.”

“No one does,” Olivia said softly. “But being with someone when you’re not sure? That’s not fair to either of you.”

You stayed quiet, her words sinking in.

“And let’s be real,” she added with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood. “You’ve been hung up on Peter since forever. That’s not going to just disappear because someone else comes along.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Don’t remind me.”

“I’m just saying,” Olivia said, nudging your knee with hers. “If you don’t deal with that, it’s always going to be there. No matter how great Joshua is.”

You peeked at her through your fingers, your voice muffled. “Why are you always right?”

“It’s a curse,” she said dramatically, throwing her arm over her eyes. “But seriously, Y/N. Take your time. Figure it out. And whatever you decide, I’ll be here to back you up.”

You smiled weakly, lowering your hands. “Thanks, Liv.”

“Anytime,” she said, grabbing another slice of pizza. “Now, shut up and eat. We’re not leaving any leftovers.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you reached for another slice. For the first time in weeks, you felt like maybe, just maybe, you’d find your way through this mess.

---

“Hey, Joshua. I know you said you were gonna call when you got back, but… if I’m being honest I’m really drunk right now since Olivia dragged me out to a club. But in hindsight, I still feel a bit more confident than usual so I thought I might… say what I needed to say, ‘cause I’d probably chicken out when I see you.”

“You were right. My feelings are complicated toward Peter, but I do really like you. But you were right… I need to be honest with myself. I like Peter—hell, I think I’ve loved him since we were, uh… little people? Point is, I really like you, and I never wanted to hurt you. Call me back when you’re free?”

There was a soft beep as the voicemail ended and then… silence.

The line went dead.

---

Two weeks later you were jittery and nervous. Joshua said he would be back in a week and had never returned, let alone call you back.

Olivia placed her tray on the table across from you, your work calendar underneath it, and flopped into the seat with a dramatic sigh. “Alright, spill. Why do you look like you haven’t slept in a week?”

You pushed the lettuce around on your sandwich, your appetite completely gone. “I haven’t heard from Joshua.”

Olivia blinked, clearly caught off guard. “What do you mean? He hasn’t called you since he left?”

You shook your head, setting the sandwich down. “Nothing. No calls, no texts. It’s like he disappeared.”

She frowned, her brow furrowing. “That’s weird, even for him. Did you try calling him again?”

You hesitated, fiddling with the edge of your napkin. “I left a voicemail. After we went out that night.”

“Oh, God.” Olivia’s eyes widened slightly. “You didn’t confess on a drunk voicemail, did you?”

You winced, nodding. “I did.”

Olivia groaned, dropping her head into her hands. “Y/N. Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”

“Because I feel like an idiot,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I was honest with him, but now I’m worried I said too much. Or scared him off.”

Olivia sat up, her expression softening. “Hey, you were just being real with him. If he can’t handle that, then maybe it’s better you know now.”

“I just…” You sighed, resting your chin in your hand. “I didn’t want things to end like this. He deserves better than that.”

“And so do you,” Olivia pointed out. She reached across the table, squeezing your hand. “Look, maybe he’s just busy. You said he’s on a work trip, right? He could still call when he gets back.”

“It’s been two weeks,” you said, your voice breaking slightly. “I think that’s long enough for a call.”

Olivia hesitated, clearly unsure of what to say. “Alright, then maybe it’s time to move on. You’ve done what you can, Y/N. If he’s not responding, you can’t put your life on hold for him.”

“I know,” you murmured, though the words felt hollow. “It just… sucks.”

“Yeah,” Olivia agreed, leaning back in her chair. “It does. But hey, at least you’ve got me to keep you sane.”

You managed a weak smile. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

She grinned, grabbing a fry from her tray. “Probably starve. Speaking of which, eat your sandwich. You’re no good to anyone if you’re hangry.”

You rolled your eyes but picked up the sandwich again, taking a small bite. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

---

Later that day after taking a relaxing bath, you walked into the kitchen to debate whether you wanted to cook something or order takeout. You didn’t get far before Olivia called you. You flipped open your phone. “Hey. I was just deciding what I wanted for dinner. Does Thai or Indian sound bett—”

“Have you checked the news?”

The phone nearly slipped from your fingers. “What? No, I haven’t. Why?”

Olivia’s voice was tense, clipped with urgency. “Turn on the TV. It’s on every channel.”

Your chest tightened as you moved quickly to the living room. You fumbled with the remote, flipping through channels until a familiar news anchor appeared on the screen. The banner running across the bottom made your stomach drop.

MISSING: LORD BECKETT’S SON, JOSHUA BECKETT

The screen displayed an image of Joshua smiling at some event, dressed in one of his tailored suits, looking perfectly at ease. The anchor’s voice filled the room:

“…last seen departing for a business trip nearly two weeks ago. Despite extensive efforts to contact him, friends and family have received no communication. Authorities are investigating his disappearance. More details are expected to follow—”

You muted the TV, your hand trembling as you pressed the button.

“Y/N?” Olivia’s voice came through the phone, softer now. “Are you seeing this?”

You sank onto the couch, your heart racing. “I… Yeah. I’m seeing it.”

“What the hell is going on?” she asked, her voice tinged with unease.

“I don’t know,” you whispered. “He didn’t say anything before he left—just that he’d call when he got back. I thought… I thought he was just busy.”

“Two weeks is more than busy,” Olivia said flatly. “This is serious.”

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breathing. “Do you think something happened to him?”

“I don’t know,” Olivia admitted. “But if he hasn’t been in touch with anyone, it’s not a good sign.”

Your chest tightened, a sick feeling settling in your stomach. “This doesn’t make any sense. He was fine before he left. He didn’t seem… worried about anything.”

“Do you think he—” Olivia hesitated, lowering her voice. “Do you think he left on purpose? Like, to get space or something?”

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head even though she couldn’t see you. “Joshua wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t just… disappear without telling anyone.”

“Alright,” Olivia said, though she still sounded uncertain. “Then we have to assume something’s happened. Have the police contacted you?”

“No,” you said, glancing at your phone. “Why would they?”

“You were dating him,” Olivia pointed out. “If they’re investigating, they might reach out to people close to him.”

Your stomach churned. “I don’t know anything, Liv. If they ask me, what am I supposed to say?”

“Just tell them the truth,” Olivia said gently. “That’s all you can do.”

You nodded weakly, your eyes flicking back to the muted TV. The image of Joshua remained on the screen, a stark reminder of how little you understood what was happening.

---

The knock on your apartment door startled you. You froze on the couch, your mind spinning with thoughts of Joshua, the news reports, and the uneasy ache that had settled in your chest over the past few days. Slowly, you got up, wiping your hands on your sweatpants as you approached the door.

You peeked through the peephole, your breath catching when you saw Peter. His expression was calm but tinged with something you couldn’t quite place.

“Y/N?” His voice was soft, just loud enough to carry through the door. “Can I come in?”

You hesitated for a moment before unlocking the door and opening it. “Peter,” you said quietly, stepping aside to let him in.

He offered a faint smile, his eyes scanning your face as if trying to gauge your mood. “Hey. I heard about the news… I wanted to check on you.”

You nodded, shutting the door behind him. “Thanks. I’m… I don’t even know what I am, honestly.”

Peter’s gaze softened, and he reached out, his hand brushing lightly against your arm. “Come sit down. You shouldn’t be standing here like this.”

You let him guide you back to the couch, sinking into the cushions as he sat beside you. The air felt heavy, the unspoken weight of everything pressing down on both of you.

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “He just… vanished. And no one knows anything. It doesn’t make sense.”

Peter nodded, his expression steady but unreadable. “It’s unsettling. And it’s not something anyone should have to go through.”

You looked down at your hands, twisting your fingers together nervously. “I keep going over every conversation we had before he left. Wondering if I missed something—if he was trying to tell me something, and I didn’t pick up on it.”

“Y/N,” Peter said gently, his hand resting on your knee. “Don’t do that to yourself. You couldn’t have known. This isn’t your fault.”

“But what if—” you started, but he shook his head.

“There are no ‘what ifs,’” he said firmly, his hand warm and steady against your leg. “You cared about him. You were there for him. That’s what matters.”

You blinked back the sting of tears, nodding weakly. “It just… it doesn’t feel real. He was here, and now he’s not. It’s like the ground’s been pulled out from under me.”

Peter’s arm slid around your shoulders, pulling you gently against him. “I know,” he murmured. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry.”

You let yourself lean into him, your cheek resting against his chest. The steady rhythm of his breathing was oddly soothing, grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected. His other hand came up, brushing lightly over your hair as he held you close.

“It’s not fair,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “He didn’t deserve this.”

“No, he didn’t,” Peter agreed, his voice low. “But you don’t deserve to carry this on your own, either.”

You closed your eyes, the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the warmth of his embrace. For a moment, the weight on your chest eased, replaced by a strange sense of comfort you hadn’t felt in weeks.

“You don’t have to stay,” you said quietly, though you didn’t move away. “I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Peter said firmly. “Not until you’re okay.”

You didn’t respond, too lost in the haze of your emotions to argue. Instead, you stayed where you were, letting the steady beat of his heart and the warmth of his arms lull you into a fragile sense of calm.

---

When you and Olivia walked into your apartment after going out to dinner together, the first thing you noticed was the large vase of hydrangeas on your coffee table, along with a small box of expensive caramels.

Olivia’s eyebrows shot up as she shrugged off her coat. “Well, well, what’s this? Did you pick up a secret admirer while I wasn’t looking?”

You blinked, setting your bag down and approaching the table. A small card sat propped against the vase. “I… have no idea,” you murmured, picking up the card.

Olivia leaned over your shoulder, her curiosity on full display. “Read it! What does it say?”

You opened the card, your fingers brushing over the neat handwriting. “To brighten your day. -Peter.”

Olivia let out a low whistle. “Peter, huh? He’s pulling out all the stops, isn’t he?”

You felt your cheeks warm as you set the card back down. “He’s just… being thoughtful.”

Olivia flopped onto the couch, crossing her legs. “Thoughtful, sure. But come on, Y/N, hydrangeas and fancy caramels? That’s not just thoughtful—that’s calculated. The man knows what he’s doing.”

You sighed, sitting down beside her and fiddling with the edge of the coffee table. “He’s been really sweet lately. Ever since… you know.”

“Since Joshua?” Olivia supplied, raising an eyebrow.

You nodded, biting your lip. “I don’t know how to feel about it. I mean, Peter’s been there for me through everything, but I can’t shake this feeling like he’s… I don’t know. Trying to prove something.”

Olivia tilted her head, studying you. “Maybe he is. But is that a bad thing? You’ve had a thing for him forever, and now he’s finally making an effort. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“It’s not that simple,” you muttered, leaning back against the couch. “I don’t want him to feel like he has to… compete or something. Especially after what happened with Joshua.”

Olivia snorted, grabbing one of the caramels and unwrapping it. “Y/N, Peter’s not the kind of guy who does anything he doesn’t want to do. If he’s stepping up now, it’s because he wants to. Not because he feels obligated.”

You frowned, her words sinking in. “But what if it’s too late? What if everything with Joshua just… ruined it?”

Olivia rolled her eyes, popping the caramel into her mouth. “Ruined what? You and Peter were always circling each other, even when you were with Joshua. This isn’t about timing—it’s about you deciding what you actually want.”

You stayed quiet, your fingers brushing over the edge of the card again. “What if I don’t know what I want?”

Olivia nudged your shoulder, her voice softer now. “Then maybe it’s time to figure it out. Peter’s not going anywhere, Y/N. But you owe it to yourself to stop holding back.”

You glanced at her, her words settling in your chest like a weight. “Do you think he really…?”

“Likes you?” Olivia finished, smirking. “Y/N, that man’s been pining after you for years. He’s just too proud—or too stubborn—to admit it outright.”

Your cheeks burned, and you quickly looked away. “You don’t know that.”

“Don’t I?” Olivia said, grinning. “He sent you hydrangeas, Y/N. Your favorite kind of flower that you probably mentioned one time to him when you were younger, and he remembered.”

You rolled your eyes, even as your cheeks flushed. “He’s just being nice.”

“Nice?” Olivia scoffed, popping another caramel into her mouth. “Y/N, this isn’t nice. This is strategic. He’s playing the long game, and you’re falling for it.”

“I’m not falling for anything,” you muttered, fidgeting with the card in your hand.

Olivia raised an eyebrow. “Oh, please. He’s practically wrapped around your finger, and you’re still pretending like he’s not into you. Wake up, Y/N.”

You sighed, setting the card back on the table. “It’s complicated, Liv.”

“Only because you’re making it complicated,” she shot back. “You’ve been into him since we were kids. He’s finally giving you his full attention, and you’re sitting here overthinking it.”

You hesitated, your fingers brushing over the edge of the vase. “It’s just… everything with Joshua. It feels wrong to move on so fast.”

“Joshua wouldn’t want you to sit around moping,” Olivia said firmly. “And let’s be real, you weren’t head-over-heels for him. You liked him, sure, but not like this.”

You looked at her, surprised. “Not like what?”

“Not like the way you look at Peter,” Olivia said simply, crossing her arms. “Or the way you get all flustered when he so much as breathes near you.”

“I do not,” you protested weakly, but Olivia just smirked.

“Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that,” she said, standing and stretching. “Anyway, I’m thirsty. Wine, good?”

You managed a weak laugh, grateful for her ability to lighten the mood. “Wine’s good.”

“And while we wait, you can tell me how you’re going to handle Peter. Because ignoring him isn’t an option anymore.”

You sighed, leaning back against the couch. “I don’t know, Liv. I really don’t.”

“Well, figure it out,” she said, closing your cupboard’s door. “Because knowing Peter, he’s not going to let you avoid him for long.”

---

A knock on your apartment door the next evening made your heart skip a beat. You weren’t expecting anyone, and Olivia had her own plans tonight. Setting down the tea you’d been sipping, you walked cautiously to the door and peeked through the peephole.

Peter stood on the other side, dressed casually in a gray sweater and dark jeans, holding a small bag in one hand. He caught sight of the peephole and gave a faint smile, as if sensing you were there.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his voice just loud enough to carry through the door. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

You hesitated, your hand resting on the doorknob before finally unlocking it and opening the door. “Peter. What are you doing here?”

He held up the bag with a sheepish grin. “I brought takeout. Thought you might be hungry.”

Your eyebrows lifted in surprise. “You brought me dinner?”

He shrugged, stepping inside as you moved aside to let him in. “It’s not exactly gourmet, but I figured it’s better than you eating instant noodles.”

“Bold of you to assume I had instant noodles planned,” you said, closing the door.

Peter smirked, setting the bag on the kitchen counter. “It’s a hunch.”

You crossed your arms, leaning against the counter as he unpacked the food. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“I wanted to,” he said simply, glancing at you. “I know things have been… a lot lately. I thought a quiet dinner might help.”

Your chest tightened, and you looked away, fiddling with the hem of your sweater. “You’ve been doing a lot for me lately.”

Peter’s expression softened. “I care about you, Y/N. I’m just trying to be here for you.”

You glanced up at him, his words settling over you like a warm blanket. “Thank you. Really.”

He smiled faintly, pushing one of the takeout containers toward you. “Come on. Let’s eat before it gets cold.”

---

Dinner with Peter was easy, the conversation flowing effortlessly as you talked about everything and nothing. He had a way of making you laugh, his wit sharp but never cutting. For the first time in weeks, the weight on your chest felt lighter.

As the evening wore on, Peter leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on you. “You seem more like yourself tonight.”

You smiled softly, swirling your drink in its glass. “I think I’m starting to feel… okay again. It’s still weird not hearing from Joshua, but I’m not as upset as I thought I’d be.”

Peter nodded, his expression unreadable. “That’s good. You deserve to feel at peace.”

You hesitated, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “Do you think he’s okay? Wherever he is?”

Peter’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, but his tone was calm when he replied. “I think he’d want you to be happy, no matter what.”

Something about the way he said it made you pause, your gaze lingering on his face. “You really think that?”

“I do,” he said firmly, his eyes meeting yours. “And I’ll do whatever it takes to help you get there.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of you. You swallowed hard, looking down at your drink. “You’ve already done so much, Peter. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

He leaned forward slightly, his voice low and steady. “You don’t owe me anything, Y/N. Just let me be here for you. That’s all I want.”

You glanced up, your breath catching at the intensity in his gaze. The warmth of his presence, the sincerity in his words—it was all too much and not enough at the same time.

“Okay,” you said softly, your voice barely audible. “Thank you.”

Peter’s lips curved into a small, genuine smile. “Anytime.”

---

“How was your date last night?” you asked as the nail tech painted a soft coral onto your nails.

Olivia grinned, glancing at you over her magazine. “It was… interesting. He showed up in a leather jacket, which I thought was bold for a guy who works in finance, but then he ordered a piña colada at dinner.”

You laughed softly. “That’s a choice.”

“Right?” Olivia said, shaking her head. “I mean, I’m all for a guy who knows what he likes, but it just didn’t vibe with the whole Wall Street aesthetic he was going for.”

“Did you tell him that?”

She smirked. “Of course not. I’m not a monster. But the date kind of fizzled after that. Turns out, he’s one of those people who think working for a magazine is ‘cute.’”

You winced. “Ouch.”

“Exactly,” Olivia said, leaning back in her chair. “So, no second date for Mr. Leather-and-piña-colada.”

“You’re ruthless,” you teased, shaking your head.

“I have standards,” she replied, flipping the page of her magazine. “How’s work been? Any new scandals in the accounting world?”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s been fine. Mostly just year-end audits and tax prep.”

“Sounds thrilling,” Olivia said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Hey, it pays the bills,” you replied with a shrug. “And it’s not all spreadsheets. Sometimes there’s… client drama.”

“Oh, client drama,” Olivia said, perking up. “Now we’re talking. Spill.”

You hesitated, glancing at the nail tech, who was focused on your hand. Lowering your voice slightly, you said, “we had this one client who tried to write off their yacht as a business expense. They even had fake invoices to back it up.”

Olivia gasped, clearly delighted. “No! Did they get away with it?”

“Not a chance,” you said, smirking. “My boss caught it immediately. The guy was not happy when we told him he couldn’t claim it.”

“Let me guess,” Olivia said, narrowing her eyes. “He tried to threaten you with his ‘connections.’”

“Something like that,” you replied, laughing. “But we stood our ground. It was kind of satisfying watching him squirm.”

“You’re secretly a savage,” Olivia said, grinning. “I love it.”

You shook your head, smiling. “Not really. I just don’t like people thinking they can get away with stuff like that.”

“Well, remind me never to try and cheat my taxes,” Olivia said, raising her hands in mock surrender.

“Smart choice,” you replied, your tone teasing.

The nail tech finished your last finger, carefully blowing on the polish to help it dry. Olivia glanced at your hands and nodded approvingly. “That color’s perfect on you.”

“Thanks,” you said, admiring the soft, summery shade. “Ready to head out?”

“Absolutely,” Olivia said, standing and grabbing her purse. “But first, we’re getting coffee. I need something to recover from the mental image of a guy sipping a piña colada in a suit.”

You laughed, following her to the counter to settle the bill. “You really know how to pick them, Liv.”

“I live to entertain,” she said with a wink.

---

“Hey there, Dotty.”

You let out a slight gasp as you turned around to come face to face with Olivia’s twin brother, Oscar. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, how do ya think Ollie got the tickets? I’ve got connections you know.”

Olivia walked over holding her clutch and a glass of wine. “Oscar,” she hissed.

He turned to look at her, “what? I’m just speakin’ the truth.”

“Five years in America and you’ve turned into more of a pretentious arsehole.” Olivia muttered.

“I heard that. And I resent it.” Oscar replied, reaching over to ruffle her hair, which she dodged.

Peter walked over, placing a hand on your waist and gently moving you aside as Olivia and Oscar continued their bickering. His touch was warm, firm, and effortlessly reassuring, making your breath hitch for a split second.

“Let’s not get caught in the crossfire,” Peter murmured close to your ear, his tone laced with amusement.

“Good idea,” you replied softly, letting him guide you a few steps away. Your heart gave an annoyingly noticeable thump as his hand lingered for a moment longer than necessary before he let it drop.

The theatre lobby was bustling, everyone dressed to the nines for the evening performance of The Phantom of the Opera. Olivia’s enthusiasm for the musical had been borderline infectious, but Peter’s presence was what had truly made you agree to come tonight. You wouldn’t admit it out loud, but you were looking forward to sitting next to him in the darkened theatre.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Peter said, studying your face. His gaze was steady, calm, yet probing in a way that always made you feel like he saw more than you were ready to show.

“Just taking everything in,” you said, gesturing to the opulent decor around you. “This place is beautiful.”

Peter smiled, his expression softening. “It is. But I meant you. Something on your mind?”

You hesitated, glancing toward Olivia and Oscar, who had moved on to teasing each other about their wine preferences. “I guess I’m just… nervous. I haven’t been to something like this in a long time.”

“There’s nothing to be nervous about,” Peter assured you. His voice dipped slightly, and you swore his eyes darkened just a fraction. “You look incredible, by the way.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you glanced down at the neckline of your dress. “Thank you. You clean up pretty well yourself.”

Peter chuckled, the sound low and warm. “I try.”

Before the conversation could deepen, Olivia swooped in, dragging Oscar behind her. “Alright, let’s get to our seats before the ushers start giving us dirty looks.”

Oscar rolled his eyes but followed, grinning as Olivia nudged him toward the row. “You’re bossy, you know that?”

“You love it,” Olivia shot back, sliding into her seat.

Peter motioned for you to go ahead of him, and as you slid past him to take your seat, his hand brushed lightly against your back again. The touch was fleeting but intentional, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

You tried to focus on the grandeur of the theatre as the lights dimmed, the murmurs of the crowd fading into anticipation. But Peter, seated just to your right, made it impossible to ignore the steady hum of awareness that had been building between you.

---

The performance was breathtaking. You’d been completely captivated by the haunting music and the tension between the Phantom and Christine, though the parallels to your own tangled emotions didn’t escape you. Peter, seated so close, made every small movement—every shift, every glance—feel magnified.

As the final notes of Music of the Night faded into the silence of the audience, you turned slightly toward him, your expression unguarded. “That was… incredible.”

Peter was already watching you, his eyes unreadable in the dim light. “It’s one of my favorites,” he said softly. “I knew you’d like it.”

“You did?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, leaning slightly closer. “You’ve always been drawn to stories like this. Beautiful, bittersweet, with just a hint of danger.”

Your breath hitched, his words hitting closer to home than he probably realized. Or maybe he did realize—it was Peter, after all.

Before you could respond, Olivia leaned across Oscar from her seat on the other side. “Is it just me, or does this whole ‘Phantom versus Raoul’ thing feel unnecessarily stressful?”

Oscar smirked. “It’s just you. You’re always Team Raoul.”

“And you’re always wrong,” Olivia retorted, sticking her tongue out at him.

Peter chuckled, leaning back slightly but not breaking his gaze from yours. “I’d say the drama is what makes it worthwhile.”

“Exactly,” you said, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “What’s the point without a little tension?”

Peter’s lips quirked into a knowing smile. “My thoughts exactly.”

---

After the show, the four of you stepped into the cool night air, the buzz of the performance still lingering in the air. Olivia and Oscar were ahead, debating the musical’s ending, leaving you and Peter a few steps behind.

“You’re quiet again,” Peter noted, glancing at you. “Second thoughts about the story?”

You shook your head, pulling your coat tighter around you. “No, it was perfect. Just… a lot to process.”

“I get that,” he said softly, his hands tucked into his pockets. “It has a way of sticking with you.”

You hesitated, your gaze flicking to him. “Which side were you on? The Phantom or Raoul?”

Peter tilted his head, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “The Phantom, of course.”

“Of course?” you asked, arching an eyebrow.

He nodded, his tone teasing but layered with something deeper. “The Phantom’s not perfect, but he’s passionate. Compelling. He knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to take risks to get it.”

“And Raoul?” you pressed, though your voice was softer now.

Peter shrugged, his gaze steady on yours. “Raoul’s safe. Predictable. But sometimes, safe isn’t what we need.”

Your breath caught, his words hanging in the space between you like a challenge. You opened your mouth to respond, but Olivia’s voice called back to you, breaking the moment.

“Y/N, come on! Oscar wants to hit a diner before heading back.”

You turned toward her, grateful for the distraction. “Coming!”

Peter’s hand brushed lightly against your arm, stopping you for just a moment longer. “Think about it, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “What’s worth the risk?”

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest, but he didn’t wait for an answer. With a faint smile, he followed Olivia and Oscar down the street, leaving you to catch up and wonder if the Phantom’s shadow was closer than you’d realized.

---

Peter’s father was having another party, celebrating something in the aristocratic circle you were sure you wouldn’t understand.

The Lyman estate was as grand as ever, with its sprawling grounds and towering facade lit up against the evening sky. You adjusted the strap of your dress, feeling slightly out of place despite the polished look Olivia had helped you put together.

“It’s just a party,” Olivia had said as she zipped up your dress. “The same champagne, the same tiny hors d'oeuvres, and the same people trying to one-up each other with stories about their vacations. You’ll survive.”

Easy for her to say—this was her family. For you, it felt like stepping into a world you’d never quite belong to, even if you’d been tagging along to events like this since you were kids.

“Y/N,” Peter’s familiar voice drew your attention as you lingered near the garden entrance, trying to avoid the bustle of the main hall. He approached, his navy suit tailored to perfection and his tie slightly loosened, as if to project effortless ease.

“You’re hiding,” he teased, stopping a few paces away.

“Not hiding,” you countered softly, fiddling with your clutch. “Just… taking a moment.”

Peter smiled faintly, his gaze flicking over you. “You look stunning tonight.”

Your cheeks warmed, and you glanced away. “Thanks. Olivia helped.”

“She has good taste,” Peter said, stepping closer. “Though, I’m sure you’d look stunning regardless.”

The compliment hung in the air, and you struggled to find a response. Before you could, Peter gestured toward the garden path. “Walk with me?”

You hesitated but nodded, falling into step beside him. The air outside was cooler, the faint hum of the party muffled by the hedges and tall trees.

“You’ve been avoiding the main hall,” Peter said after a moment, his tone casual.

You shrugged. “It’s… a lot. These parties always feel a little overwhelming.”

“I get that,” he replied, his hands tucked into his pockets. “It’s all so… polished. A show, really.”

You glanced at him, surprised by the hint of disdain in his tone. “You don’t like them?”

Peter chuckled softly. “I tolerate them. But if I had a choice? I’d skip the champagne and small talk for something a bit more… real.”

“Real?” you echoed, curious.

He tilted his head, his gaze meeting yours. “Something like this. A quiet walk. No pretense, no expectations.”

Your heart skipped a beat, the sincerity in his voice catching you off guard. “That does sound nice.”

Peter’s smile softened, and for a moment, the air between you felt charged with something unspoken. But before either of you could say more, the sound of laughter and clinking glasses drifted toward you, pulling you back to reality.

“Shall we head back?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

“Not yet,” Peter said, his tone light but firm. “You’ve spent enough time worrying about everyone else tonight. Let me distract you a bit longer.”

You hesitated, your fingers brushing against the pendant around your neck—a small habit you’d picked up since he gave it to you. Finally, you nodded. “Alright. Distract me.”

Peter’s lips quirked into a small smile, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Gladly.”

You followed him down the garden path, the faint glow of lanterns lining the way. The chill in the air nipped at your skin, and you hugged your arms to yourself, regretting not bringing a shawl. Peter noticed almost instantly.

“You’re cold,” he said, his tone leaving no room for denial.

“I’m fine,” you replied quickly, though your shiver betrayed you.

Peter stopped walking, shrugging off his blazer in one fluid motion. Before you could protest, he draped it over your shoulders, his hands lingering for a moment as he adjusted it. The warmth of the fabric and the faint scent of his cologne made your heart skip a beat.

“Better?” he asked, stepping back.

You nodded, your voice soft. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said, starting down the path again. “I can’t have you freezing out here. It’d ruin my distraction plan.”

You laughed lightly, shaking your head. “Your plan’s working, by the way. I don’t think I’ve thought about anything else tonight.”

“Good,” Peter said, his gaze flicking to you briefly. “That’s the goal.”

The two of you walked in comfortable silence for a while, the sound of gravel crunching underfoot the only thing breaking the stillness. The garden was peaceful, the faint hum of the party fading into the background. It felt like you were in your own little world, away from the chaos and expectations.

“You’ve always been good at this,” you said suddenly, glancing at him.

Peter raised an eyebrow. “At what?”

“Making people feel like they’re the only one in the room,” you replied, your cheeks warming slightly. “It’s… a talent.”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “I think you give me too much credit.”

“I don’t think I do,” you said softly, your gaze dropping to the path. “You’re good at making people feel seen. Heard.”

Peter stopped walking, turning to face you. “What about you, Y/N?” he asked, his voice quiet but pointed. “Do you feel seen?”

Your breath hitched, and you looked up at him, his expression open but intense. “Sometimes,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “When it’s you.”

The faintest smile touched his lips, and he took a small step closer. “Good.”

The air between you felt charged, the unspoken tension that had been building for weeks finally coming to a head. Peter’s eyes searched yours, his gaze dropping briefly to your lips before meeting your eyes again. He leaned in slightly, as if testing the waters, and your heart raced.

But before either of you could close the gap, a distant voice called out. “Peter? Are you out here?”

The spell broke, and you stepped back, your cheeks burning. Peter exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening as he glanced toward the direction of the voice.

“We should get back,” you said quickly, your voice unsteady. “They’ll be looking for us.”

Peter turned back to you, his eyes unreadable. “Y/N—”

You shook your head, stepping past him. “It’s fine. Let’s go.”

You barely made it a few steps before his hand caught your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. “Wait,” he said, his tone low but insistent.

You turned back, your heart pounding as he stepped closer. Before you could say anything, his hand moved to your cheek, and he kissed you.

It wasn’t rushed or hesitant. It was steady, purposeful, and everything you hadn’t let yourself imagine. His lips were warm against yours, his touch grounding, and for a moment, the rest of the world faded away.

When he pulled back, just enough to look at you, his hand still rested gently against your cheek. His voice was quiet, almost a whisper. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

Your breath caught in your throat, your fingers brushing the fabric of his jacket draped over your shoulders. “Peter…”

He searched your face, his expression open but cautious. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

You didn’t say anything right away, your mind racing. The kiss had sent a thrill through you, a warmth that settled in your chest, but there was also a lingering uncertainty. You had spent so long trying to untangle your feelings—toward him, toward Joshua, toward everything. But in this moment, none of it seemed to matter.

“I don’t want you to stop,” you said softly, the words tumbling out before you could overthink them.

Peter exhaled, relief flashing across his face before his hand moved to the back of your neck, pulling you into another kiss. This one was deeper, hungrier, like he’d been holding back for years and couldn’t any longer.

When you finally broke apart, your heart was racing, and you could barely catch your breath. Peter rested his forehead against yours, his voice low. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you to say that.”

You managed a small laugh, though your voice shook. “Probably not as long as I’ve waited for you.”

He tilted his head, his smile soft but teasing. “Is that so?”

You nodded, looking down at the ground. “Since we were kids. Maybe not this exact thing, but… yeah.”

Peter’s hand moved to your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. His expression was unreadable, but his voice was steady. “I wish I’d known sooner. Maybe I wouldn’t have been so much of an idiot.”

“You’re still an idiot,” you said, though there was no heat in your tone.

He laughed, a sound that made your chest tighten in the best way. “Fair enough. But I’m trying, Y/N. I need you to know that.”

You nodded, your fingers brushing the edge of his sleeve. “I know. And I see it. I do.”

Peter looked at you like he wanted to say more, but the distant sound of footsteps on gravel interrupted the moment. He straightened slightly, his hand falling away from your cheek. “We should get back before they start sending a search party.”

“Right,” you said quickly, adjusting his jacket around your shoulders. “We don’t want to draw any more attention.”

He smirked, offering you his arm. “Shall we?”

You hesitated, then slid your hand into the crook of his elbow. As you walked back toward the main house, his closeness felt like a shield against the noise and expectations waiting for you inside.

Neither of you spoke as you reentered the party, but Peter’s hand brushed against yours, a silent promise that left your heart fluttering.

---

You opened your apartment door to see Peter in his usual outfit. He looked you up and down, a slight frown on his face. “It’s cold outside, why don’t you have a jacket?”

You gave him a slight pout, “it’ll ruin my outfit.”

Peter’s lips twitched into a small smirk, though the concern in his eyes didn’t waver. “Though that dress looks incredible on you,” he said, his voice soft but insistent, “I don’t want you to get sick again. Humor me?”

You sighed dramatically, rolling your eyes. “Fine. You’re impossible, you know that?”

Peter grinned, stepping back to lean casually against the doorframe. “I’ve been told. But I’m also right, aren’t I?”

You gave him a quick, light kiss, feeling his smile against your lips. “Don’t let it go to your head,” you murmured, turning toward your bedroom. “I’ll grab a jacket.”

As you disappeared down the hall, Peter watched you with a faint smile, his hands tucked into his pockets. When you returned, shrugging into a light jacket that didn’t clash with your dress, he straightened, his expression smug.

“There,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “Happy now?”

“Delighted,” he replied smoothly, reaching for the door. “Shall we?”

You locked up and stepped into the crisp evening air, Peter’s hand resting lightly on the small of your back as he guided you toward the car.

“Where are we going, anyway?” you asked, glancing at him.

Peter’s eyes glinted with amusement. “It’s a surprise.”

You huffed playfully. “You know I hate surprises.”

“Which is exactly why I planned one,” he countered, his tone teasing but gentle.

The drive was filled with soft music and comfortable silence, Peter occasionally stealing glances at you. It had been like this for weeks now—easy, familiar, and strangely comforting. He’d become your rock in the chaos, grounding you without ever pushing too hard.

“Alright, we’re here,” Peter said, pulling into a quiet parking lot.

You looked out the window, your brow furrowing. “An art gallery?”

Peter stepped out of the car and came around to open your door, offering his hand as you stepped out. “Not just any art gallery,” he said, his voice dropping slightly, as if sharing a secret.

Inside, the gallery was quiet, the faint hum of soft lighting illuminating the pieces on display. It wasn’t crowded—just a handful of other people scattered throughout the space, their voices hushed.

“You brought me to a gallery at night?” you asked, glancing at him as he led you toward a small alcove.

“You said you wanted to get out of your head,” Peter replied easily. “Art has a way of doing that. Besides, I thought you’d like this exhibit.”

He stopped in front of a painting, his hand still lightly on your arm as you took it in. It was abstract but vibrant, the colors swirling together in a way that felt both chaotic and intentional.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Peter didn’t respond right away, his gaze fixed on you rather than the painting. “It reminded me of you,” he said softly.

You turned to him, your heart skipping a beat. “Why?”

“The way it draws you in,” he said, his voice steady but quiet. “It’s complex, layered… but there’s a warmth to it. Something you can’t look away from.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you looked back at the painting, your fingers brushing lightly over the pendant around your neck. “Peter…”

He stepped closer, his voice low but firm. “I mean it, Y/N. You’re… something else entirely.”

You turned to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. “I don’t know what to say to that.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he replied, his lips twitching into a small smile. “Just… let me be here. With you.”

You hesitated, the vulnerability in his eyes stealing the breath from your lungs. “You’re already here,” you said softly.

“And I’m not going anywhere,” Peter said, his hand brushing against yours. “Not unless you tell me to.”

You looked up at him, your voice barely audible. “I don’t want you to.”

Peter’s smile deepened, his hand slipping fully into yours as he gave it a gentle squeeze. “Good.”

For the rest of the evening, you wandered the gallery together, his presence grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected. You didn’t think about the past or the uncertainty of the future. For now, it was just the two of you, lost in the quiet beauty of the moment.

---

“I feel bad leaving you at your apartment on Valentine’s, Liv. You sure you don’t want to come to the party with us?” You gave her your best puppy eyes, leaning against the kitchen counter.

Olivia laughed, shaking her head as she finished tying her hair into a loose bun. “Y/N, you’ve got a date. You’re not ditching me. Besides, I’ve got plans.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “Plans? You didn’t mention that earlier. What plans?”

She smirked, grabbing a glass of wine from the counter. “Plans to spend the night in my pajamas, eating chocolate, and watching Colin Firth movies. It’s a solid tradition.”

“That sounds better than a Valentine’s party,” you admitted with a small laugh.

Olivia grinned. “See? No need to feel guilty. I’m perfectly content.” She pointed at you with her glass. “You, on the other hand, need to stop hovering and finish getting ready. Peter’s going to be here soon.”

Your stomach fluttered at the mention of his name, and you glanced at the clock. “I guess you’re right. Thanks, Liv.”

“Always,” she said, raising her glass in a mock toast. “Now go knock his socks off.”

---

When Peter arrived, he was dressed impeccably, as usual, in a charcoal suit that fit him perfectly. He looked you up and down, his expression softening into a smile. “You look stunning,” he said, his voice warm.

“Thanks,” you said, a shy smile tugging at your lips. “You clean up well too.”

“Ready to go?” he asked, offering his arm.

You nodded, slipping your hand through his. “Let’s do this.”

---

The Valentine’s party was in full swing by the time you arrived, the venue decorated with twinkling lights and an abundance of red and pink. Couples mingled, champagne flutes in hand, while a live band played soft jazz in the background.

Peter stayed close to you, his hand resting lightly on the small of your back as you navigated the crowd. “Not too overwhelming, I hope?” he asked, leaning closer so you could hear him over the music.

“It’s nice,” you said, glancing around. “More elegant than I expected.”

He chuckled. “They like to go all out for these things.”

You sipped the champagne he’d handed you earlier, your nerves settling slightly. Peter had a way of making you feel at ease, even in the most crowded rooms.

---

At one point, Peter led you to the edge of the dance floor, his expression unreadable. “Dance with me?” he asked, his voice soft.

You hesitated, glancing at the couples swaying gracefully to the music. “You know I’m not very good… And there are so many people watching…”

Peter’s smile softened, and he tilted his head, his tone gentle but teasing. “They’re not watching you. Trust me, they’re too busy worrying about how they look.” He held out his hand, his eyes steady on yours. “Come on. I’ll make it easy for you.”

You bit your lip, still unsure, but the warmth in his gaze eased some of your nerves. “Fine. Just… don’t let me trip.”

Peter chuckled as you placed your hand in his. “I wouldn’t dare.” He led you to the edge of the dance floor, his movements fluid and confident. He turned to face you, slipping one hand around your waist while the other held yours. “See? Easy.”

You glanced around, your heart racing. “For you, maybe.”

Peter leaned closer, his voice low. “For us.” His confidence was contagious, and you found yourself relaxing slightly. As he guided you in a gentle rhythm, you tried to focus on him instead of the crowd.

“You’re doing great,” he murmured, his breath warm against your cheek.

“I’m barely moving,” you replied, though you couldn’t keep the smile off your face.

“And yet, you’re perfect,” Peter countered, his lips twitching into a small smirk. He stepped back slightly, spinning you gently in a twirl.

A surprised laugh escaped you as you spun, your dress flowing lightly around you. “Peter!”

He caught you effortlessly, pulling you back into his arms. “What? I had to show you off a little.”

Your cheeks warmed, but you couldn’t help laughing. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here you are,” he teased, his hand tightening slightly on your waist as he brought you closer.

The music slowed, and Peter’s steps matched the gentle tempo, keeping you steady even as your nerves started to fade. You glanced up at him, your voice quieter now. “This isn’t so bad.”

“Told you,” he said, his tone soft but smug. “You just needed the right partner.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away. “You always have to get the last word, don’t you?”

Peter tilted his head, considering. “Not always. But I’ll make an exception for you.”

The song ended, and the crowd clapped politely, but Peter didn’t release you right away. His gaze lingered on yours, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the room disappeared.

“Thank you,” you said softly, your fingers brushing against his.

“For what?” he asked, his voice low.

“For making me forget how much I hate dancing,” you teased lightly, though the gratitude in your tone was real.

Peter smiled, his hand brushing against your cheek. “I’d say you’ve officially conquered it.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but someone bumped lightly into Peter’s shoulder, pulling you both back to reality. He sighed, stepping aside to let the couple pass. “Looks like the dance floor’s getting crowded. Want to find somewhere quieter?”

You nodded, your chest still fluttering from the moment. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

Peter led you away from the crowd, his hand resting lightly on your back as he guided you toward a quieter corner of the venue. As the hum of the party faded into the background, you glanced at him, a soft smile tugging at your lips.

“I’m glad I came tonight,” you said quietly.

Peter looked at you, his expression warm. “So am I.”

---

The chicken and potatoes were placed in the oven. You took off your oven mitt and walked into the living room, where Peter sat on your couch, his long legs stretched out in front of him as he fiddled with your radio. The TV played on mute, casting a soft glow across the room.

“How’s it going?” you asked, leaning against the doorway with a small smile.

Peter glanced up, a screwdriver in one hand and a look of concentration on his face. “Almost there. I think one of the wires was loose.”

You crossed the room, sitting on the armrest of the couch. “You didn’t have to fix it, you know. I could’ve just bought a new one.”

Peter smirked, glancing at you before returning his attention to the radio. “And let you replace a perfectly good radio just because of a loose wire? Absolutely not. Besides, I like a challenge.”

“Is that what this is? A challenge?” you teased, nudging his arm lightly.

“With this ancient thing? Definitely,” Peter said, chuckling. “But I’m winning.”

You laughed softly, the sound easing the cozy quiet between you. “You’re impossible.”

“So I’ve been told,” he replied, grinning as he twisted the screwdriver one last time. “Alright, moment of truth. Ready?”

“Do I have a choice?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Peter flicked the switch, and a burst of static filled the room before it smoothed into the soft strains of a classical piano piece. He leaned back, a triumphant look on his face. “There we go.”

You clapped your hands lightly, impressed despite yourself. “Okay, I’m officially convinced. You’re a genius.”

Peter grinned, setting the screwdriver aside. “I’ll try not to let it go to my head.”

“Too late,” you teased, sliding off the armrest and sitting next to him. The warmth of his shoulder brushing against yours made your stomach flip, though you tried not to show it.

Peter’s gaze flicked to you, the teasing glint in his eyes softening. “You’re in a good mood tonight.”

“I wonder why,” you said lightly, gesturing toward the now-working radio. “I mean, how could I not be? I’ve got dinner in the oven and free tech support on my couch.”

Peter chuckled, leaning back against the cushions. “I’ll take the credit for at least half of that.”

You shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips. “Seriously, though. Thanks for fixing it. I know it’s just a radio, but it means a lot.”

He tilted his head, studying you for a moment. “You don’t have to thank me, Y/N. I like doing things for you.”

Your cheeks warmed at his words, and you glanced down at your hands. “You’re just… really good at being here, you know? I don’t think I’ve said that enough.”

Peter reached over, his fingers brushing lightly against yours. “You don’t have to say it. I can see it.”

You looked up at him, his steady gaze making your heart race. “Still… it’s nice to hear sometimes.”

He smiled, his hand lingering on yours. “Then I’ll say it, too. I like being here. With you.”

The room fell quiet, the soft hum of the radio filling the space between you. Finally, Peter stood up, his hand holding yours. “What would you say to a dance?”

You let out a muffled chuckle, “what’s up with you and dancing?”

Peter smirked, tugging lightly at your hand until you stood. “It’s not about the dancing. It’s about the company.”

You rolled your eyes but let him pull you close. His hands rested lightly on your waist, and yours instinctively found their way to his shoulders. “I don’t think this qualifies as dancing,” you teased.

Peter grinned, swaying gently with you to the soft piano music coming from the radio. “It’s our version of dancing. Much better than all that formal nonsense.”

You relaxed into his hold, letting your body move with his. “I think you just like an excuse to pull me into your orbit.”

“Caught me,” he said lightly, though the warmth in his gaze gave his words a deeper meaning.

The two of you swayed in comfortable silence, your head eventually resting against his chest. His hand shifted, brushing lightly against your back as he pressed a kiss to your temple. You tilted your face up to look at him, and the look in his eyes made your heart skip.

Without a word, Peter leaned in and kissed you, his lips soft and deliberate against yours. The music faded into the background, the world narrowing to just the two of you. His hand slid to your jaw, tilting your face to deepen the kiss as he guided you in a slow turn.

Unbeknownst to you, the muted TV caught his attention as the breaking news banner flashed across the screen. The headline read: "Body of Joshua Beckett Found; Foul Play Suspected." A reporter’s voice narrated the grim discovery as images of Joshua’s smiling face and the scene of the investigation played.

Peter’s eyes darkened briefly, but his movements didn’t falter. He smoothly shifted you so your back was to the screen, blocking your view entirely as he deepened the kiss.

“Peter,” you murmured against his lips, your hands gripping his shirt lightly.

“Hmm?” he responded, his voice low, his lips brushing yours with each syllable.

“Nothing,” you whispered, the thought slipping away as he kissed you again.

He swayed you both a few more steps before finally slowing to a stop, pressing one last lingering kiss to your lips. His forehead rested against yours as you caught your breath, your hands still resting on his shoulders.

Peter’s arms tightened slightly around you, guiding your head to rest gently against his chest as the two of you continued to sway. His hand traced light, soothing circles over your back, and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat was calming, almost hypnotic. You let out a soft sigh, closing your eyes and leaning into him.

“Comfortable?” Peter murmured, his voice low and warm, close to your ear.

You nodded, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “Very.”

“Good.” His hand lingered on your lower back as he slowed the swaying to a near standstill. He tilted his head slightly, keeping an eye on the TV just beyond your line of sight. The news anchor’s voice faded, and the screen switched to a cheerful weather update.

Peter exhaled subtly, his grip on you shifting as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. Then, gently, he eased back just enough to look at you. “Fixing that radio was definitely worth it,” he said, his lips quirking into a small, playful smile.

You tilted your head, catching the faint amusement in his tone. “Just the radio?”

Peter chuckled, leaning down to press another soft kiss to your lips. “And maybe the dancing,” he admitted. His hand slid to your jaw, holding you steady as he kissed you again, slower this time, as if savoring the moment.

When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his voice quiet but steady. “You’re impossible to resist, you know that?”

Your cheeks flushed, and you gave a small laugh, your fingers toying with the fabric of his shirt. “Takes one to know one.”

He grinned, his hand slipping to your waist. “Touché.” His gaze softened, and he tilted his head slightly, brushing his nose against yours. “Should we check on dinner before we get too distracted?”

You nodded, though you made no effort to move just yet. “Probably.”

Peter’s smile deepened, and he kissed you one more time before stepping back and reaching for your hand. “Come on, then. Let’s not burn the place down.”

The two of you moved toward the kitchen, his fingers lacing with yours as he walked beside you. It was easy, natural—like the rhythm you’d fallen into with him over the past few months. You didn’t think about anything else, just the warmth of his hand in yours and the simple comfort of his presence.

And if Peter’s grip on your hand tightened slightly as you passed by the muted TV, you didn’t notice.

so in my head (even though when peter murdered betty it was completely justified, she was blackmailing him!) reader is actually the 'affair.' you're telling me that he would willingly have a relationship with a prostitute when he got upset that reader goes on a date, or even ignores him?? yeah, no. he's too obsessed. which is why i switched it and had him kill joshua.

this was going to be a short oneshot, and after the first two dates with joshua peter was going to reveal his feelings for reader and it was going to be a happy ever after, but then i thought "wait, he could just kill joshua" to keep it somewhat canon to the character of peter. and i know that all of this could've been done quicker if they just talked to each other and confessed their feelings, but as i wrote it, i made it so peter wanted you to confess to him first (which is what he heard when you left that voicemail for joshua, even though you don't know that peter heard it). he may be obsessed with you, but he still wants to know that you actually want him.

anyways, thanks for reading! and i hope it was up to y'all's standards <33

[thisbuildinghasfeelings]

Favorite Fandom Memories

See Favorite Fandom Memories tag game post here

I have so many amazing fandom memories from my past 3 years in this fandom, but I'll just give 4:

1.Season 3 Finale Night--Watching that proposal live was INCREDIBLE. I was still somewhat new to the fandom having only started watching the show about 12 weeks before so I didn't have any actual fandom friends at that point, but it was still so much fun liveblogging that episode. Leading up to the episode airing, I felt about 95% sure that the proposal was going to happen and then...IT DID! I remember crying and feeling like I was almost blacking out from joy! I don't think any live viewing moment ever topped that one for excitement! After the episode, I stayed up way too late but then after only a couple hours of sleep, I woke up in the middle of the night. I had two choices: try to go back to sleep or watch the proposal scene 10 times. I think you can probably guess which one I chose! The next day at work was ROUGH.

2. Theorizing with Kaitlyn--in the lead up to episode 4x04, my tumblr account got terminated for absolutely no reason. I was horrified! I quickly made a new account to lament what had happened as I tried to get it back. Luckily, I did get it back about 30 hours later, but in the meantime, @she-walked-away came off anon to dm me on my temporary account. We have been theorizing together EVER SINCE. We've had some amazing moments, like the time we (mostly Kaitlyn) figured out the Huntington's storyline before it aired and the time we guessed a whole lot of what was going to happen in season 5 but also got a whole lot wrong. Our theorizing conversations have absolutely enhanced my fandom experience these past couple years!

3. The first Lone Star cross stitch I posted--Back in March 2023, I had the idea to combine my cross stitching hobby with my love for 911 Lone Star. I got to work and, on April 5, 2023, I posted my first ever finished Lone Star cross stitch:

The response was really nice and it inspired me to keep going. Now, making Lone Star cross stitch is one of my favorite things to do.

4. Talking to fandom friends on discord--I was always pretty intimidated by discord, I don't even know why. But in early 2024, I broke down and made an account and I'm incredibly happy that I did! It has allowed me to get closer to so many fandom friends, from the ones I talk to occasionally to the ones I talk to every single day! I even got the amazing experience of meeting one of said friends in person in AUSTIN, TX of all places 🥰 I would not have gotten through the long hiatus before season 5 without all of you and I'll certainly be counting on you to help get me through the sadness after the show ends!

Ok, I'm not going to tag anyone specifically since I already tagged a lot of people on the initial post, but consider this an OPEN TAG! Tell me some of your favorite fandom memories!!

[thenationaltreasuregazette]

National Treasure: Blu-ray of Secrets

Exploring the super secret(-ish) cast & director commentary

This year for Christmas I had asked for a new DVD of National Treasure, since the one I’ve had since circa 2005 is scratched and stops playing part way through.

My mom, lovely and indecisive person that she is, gifted me both the 2-disk ‘special edition’ DVD and the Blu-ray + DVD set.

That’s a lot of National Treasure. Excellent.

One thing that immediately stuck out to me, though, is that the back of the Blu-ray lists

Audio Commentary With Director Jon Turteltaub And Actor Justin Bartha

What?

How could I not have listened to this before?

Now, I am an absolute slut for a good cast commentary. My opinion on this was colored by the delightfully unhinged cast commentary on the 2002 Scooby-Doo movie. In it, all four of the principle cast members give behind-the-scenes anecdotes, tease each other, fawn over co-star Rowan Atkinson, and display exactly the personalities you think they will based on the characters they play in the movie.

To say this was pivotal to my understanding of movies and how movies work is an understatement.

But there is definitely no commentary on National Treasure.

Right?

Right???

Well, yes and no. ↓

My memory was absolutely correct that there is no full movie commentary on the National Treasure DVD. (This includes the 2-disk collectors edition).

There is, however, a full movie commentary on the Blu-ray.

(All versions have director’s commentary on the deleted scenes, but what we’re talking about is “let’s sit down and watch the whole movie/episode and talk over it.”)

It’s director Jon Turteltaub and everybody’s favorite guy, Justin Bartha talking over the entire movie.

Turteltaub gives behind-the-scenes tidbits while Bartha ribs him mercilessly for it.

It took me a few minutes to calibrate to this. Bartha’s sense of humor is mummifyingly dry. Take Riley and bake him in the oven on its lowest setting for a few hours dry.

Their banter is fun though, and it’s clear they’re pretty close by this point. You can tell by the way they discuss the sequel that this commentary was recorded after Book of Secrets was filmed, but before it was finished and released.

That answers the question as to why it’s on the Blu-ray but not the DVD. It was only recorded three-ish years after the first movie was released. Specifically during the WGA strike, which ran Nov 5, 2007-Feb 10, 2008.

I, a person interested in movie production, could actually have done with more “here’s-how-we-did-this,” but the commentary is a fun mix of behind the scenes and nonsense.

Fun tidbits include:

The stool young Ben uses in the attic was designed by Benjamin Franklin

Most of Riley's lines were initially cut, but he tested so well in focus groups that they put everything they had back in the final film

Ben has a "unique set of characteristics" for an action-adventure protagonist (today we call that autism)

Justin chose a half-goatee because he thinks Riley can't grow a full one

And lots of other notes I cannot read!

Here's my favorite exchange:

JB: You know of all the movies I've been in, and there's been at least six movies, people come up and say it's their favorite movie. They love it. They love this movie. JT: Do you think that's because it's just that kind of movie you love, or because your other six movies just weren't very good? JB: A little of both. A little of both. But I think it's just maybe attributed to your brilliant direction. JT: Well thank you. I would say I have a different experience. What I get is people come up-- JB: --people come up and hit you-- JT: --people come up to me and say "You directed National Treasure? That's one of my kid's favorite movies." Nobody tends to like my movies but their kids love 'em. JB: Well I'll tell you what happens is, children? They grow up. They become adults. And you know what it'll still love? National Treasure. JT: Correct.

Cheers to the children who grew up to be adults who still like National Treasure. Check it out if you get the chance!

Also who chose THESE as the two screenshots that should represent the movie?? And left them on the blu-ray!!

[aurum-stultus]

!! Emergency Commissions Open !!

(Or you can check out my Etsy) !! Please share !! I have a long history on this account of me going back and forth with my awful workplace, from my old terrible manager who psuedo-fired me and then got fired himself, me getting "hired back" and then getting promoted to 2 positions, and now months later the same workplace demoted me from my supervisor position, for reasons I actively complained about and asked them for assistance over.

They kept my pay where it was since I had another promotion there (That I never actually got a pay raise for) but my other position as their mechanic was becoming super difficult because our building was just fundamentally broken and I was still in training and the guy training me only came in on Sundays so half of our building would be out of commission for an entire week.. and then when he tried to train me, 5 minute sessions would become 2 hour sessions because the building was so broken. I couldn't keep up with the maintenance and every time I came up with a solution, the mech team who didn't even work at my location and didn't see the issues, would tell me to fix it differently, then when I did what they told me to and it didn't work, they blamed me for their screw up.

My manager said I would get to keep my pay if I stepped down from my mech position, so I did. Everything was fine up until corporate realized our building was losing money and decided to cut my pay and said it was because I stepped down from mech. A job I still never got a pay raise for and constantly asked when I WOULD be getting a raise for. I fought this for weeks and even contacted HR.. only for the woman from HR to call me and put me on speaker with THE MAN WHO DEMOTED ME to figure out my problem. I chewed her out for this, told her I didn't trust her and that that was extremely inappropriate and unprofessional and her only response, with him still in the room, was "Well is he the problem? Do you want him to leave?" So right after he found out I went to HR to complain about him, bc of HR, he kept fighting even harder to cut my pay. I kept refusing to sign the wage decrease form until I had enough for rent, then put in my two weeks. They retaliated to my two weeks notice by only giving me two work days for my last two weeks, so my next paycheck will be maybe $50 at best. (I tried to ask for PTO for the hours they took from me, but my entire time working there, every time I asked about my PTO they would tell me they'd get back to me and then never did. For a year. Every single time I asked) I have an interview on the 29th and two other buildings on the strip from my old workplace want to hire me but I have to wait on both of them to get back to me and I have no idea how long that will be and need something to at least hold me over enough to pay for groceries or pay back the credit I use for gas before I get charged fees with money I don't have. Plus I only have money for this month's rent, so I'm really hoping someone gets back to me within February. Comm info:

Icons are $10, busts are $14, full-bodies are $30 <- may go up or down based complexity or whether or not I've drawn the subject before (like mechanical or furries) Prices go up by half the original price for extra characters ($5 for icon, $7 for bust, $15 for full-body) and I take PayPal, Venmo and Cashapp

WILLING TO DO ANYTHING EXCEPT PROSHIP OR FERAL !! Can do NSFW but only if I get confirmation that the buyer is over 18

[lizlemondyke]

woke up in a steaming awful mood but then carol texted to say she’s actually in town today, my coworker agreed to close for me so I can get out earlier, I ate a delicious egg with my lovely roommate who keeps going to bed before I get home so I never see her, and I did all the sewing projects i’ve been putting off for lack of thread

[heartorbit]

i want to know everything that makes you happy! 💫🪐🎇

[protagonist-art]

"Uh- I'm Arnold. Bennett. It's profoundly difficult to get your lifes works and studies accepted if your name isn't... yes, oh! Are you a fan of moths, sir?"

NEW RDR2 OC!! a reclusive, clumsy entomologist and bug collector; cooped up in his study of uniformed clutter

[icewindandboringhorror]

Some (late) holiday photos of the boye~!

[deus-ex-mona]

being a hiyoshipper is great bc even if you don’t like nghy,

you still have options, like~~~

[fibi-draws]

i've been really into making really high effort drawings of my favorite kpop boys because autism is one hell of a drug i will not explain myself just please take them and listen to p1harmony i promise you my obsession is justified ple a s-

also my [commisions are open] so this could be u think about it

bonus me making literal stickers to promote them like its bad over here gamers i dont even apologize

[eddiemunsonsmum]

Just saw this comment on a story posted a month ago.

*cries in Eddie Munson Solo Series no one wanted to read, interact with or request for*

No shade to the person that commented this on their own fic if you recognize it. It's not their fault. I'm not mad at them. More crying in the tags.

[dramas-vs-novels]

Every time Prapai gives Sky medicine, he's narcoleptic inside 5 minutes.

[thecedarchronicle]

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[bread-making-vikings]

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