#i know i have a lot of characters that are supposed to be from the same continuity so it'd be fun to have them together

[impactrueno]

some stuff about lydia's jacket in Beetlejuice Beetlejuice. hope you guys are ready for another thinkpiece no one asked for:

right so. colleen atwood decided to give lydia (and rory) these garments that seemed so unfinished it was distracting me. but i know there's a reason for every costume choice, so i watched this super short rundown she gave about a few of the outfits in one of the promotional videos for the movie, but i was disappointed that she didn't say anything about this one. i knew i had to draw it at some point so i really needed to know what it's supposed to be. a friend who went to the Afterlife Experience prop exhibition even took photos of the damn thing up close at my request, just so i could take a closer look and see if i could figure it out. but nothing. i didn't know how to draw it and it was driving me insane. i felt stupid. like what am i missing here

months later here i am, browsing pinterest for my beetlejuice inspo boards and i randomly find it and others like it:

and this is how i learned that these were created by british designer elena dawson. the way this article described this style made everything make sense:

Her Victorian frocks with unfinished seams and hanging fabric strips speak of ghostly things, simultaneously ephemeral and imprinted with history, the stuff of Tim Burton and Helena Bonham Carter, a witchy presence in the world that no longer cares for fairy tales.

more:

Maybe it is this ghostly presence that informs Dawson’s work, which reflects her fascination with death. “The relation between clothing, ritual, and death is of great interest to me,” says she. “In some respects, through clothing I am also working through my relationship to death.”

and the way she described it herself:

“When you work on alterations you are really tearing the guts out of the garment, performing a sort of autopsy—you really get to see a garment at its most vulnerable point. Observing this state of semi deconstruction in the making of a garment or shoe is what I like to retain in my finished work.“

oh my god.

the clothes are lydia. they are purposefully incomplete.

lydia's whole deal in the movie was that she was messed up from of all the shit she's been through to the point where she's no longer herself. the events in her life have been slowly picking the threads of what kept her together, what makes her her. delia has this great line that basically sums up lydia's pathos in the movie: "you need to take back your life from those hanger-onners, from this thing," meaning rory and beetlejuice. "where's the obnoxious little goth girl who tormented me all those years ago? it's time to find her."

i'd wager they made rory wear the same style of deconstructed jacket for the funeral specifically because he was trying to come off like this was a tragedy to him just as much, that he's "vulnerable" like the deetz women right now. you know, his whole modus operandi and all (unnecessarily large handkerchief included.) interestingly enough, lydia does NOT wear the loose thread jacket that would match rory's coat here. her own outfit is still by the same designer though, so it's like...they match, but also don't. they're in a relationship, but don't fit together.

according to interviews, using elena dawson designs was winona ryder and justin theroux's idea that they brought up to colleen atwood, and can i just say that i love how much input they had on their characters? justin in particular had SO much fun playing rory, his interviews are great. he owned the role. he knows a lot about fashion, so he was the first one to suggest this look and vibe for him.

as for winona, she wore dawson herself multiple times during the promotional tour for the movie. like, this is just her actual wardrobe. you can tell she had fun trying to emulate lydia's bangs and ponytail with these fits too.

i don't know much about fashion, honestly. but i love character design and telling a story through a character's clothes. so obviously i'm nerding out about this hardcore. perhaps i should learn more about fashion so i can do cool stuff like this too.

[poppitron360]

Okay so I might’ve mentioned that I’m writing a fic where the children of Percabeth, Solangelo, and Valgrace go on an epic quest to rescue their parents and the rest of the Seven from the clutches of evil and I’ve kinda been Hyperfixating on it for a while so here is the first character I would like to info-dump about.

Meet Finley Di Angelo-Solace!!!

He’s currently my favourite out of the Next-gen trio and definitely the one I have the most fun writing for. I genuinely love him sm.

Rant under the cut-

Fin is the son of Nico and Will, and was created using divine godly magic so is biologically both theirs (hey if Zeus can have a baby from his thigh this can happen)

His powers are a complex amalgamation of both of his parents: he can shadow-travel in sunlight, he can heal and talk to the dead and his main weapon is archery

He’s autistic

He has hypersensitive hearing (it could be an Apollo thing, it could be an Autism thing we don’t know. It’s probably both)

He prefers ranged combat partially because he is touch-averse and likes to keep his distance (also bc the other two characters both use melee weapons so I needed some variety)

I see your “Trans Will Solace” hc and I raise you- “Transmasc son of Solangelo who they love and support so so much”

He will INSIST on wearing a binder throughout the entire quest, rib cage be damned! (This will become a problem bc apparently you’re supposed to take breaks and you’re not supposed to do any physical exercise in them so running around chasing monsters is not gonna go well)

A big theme in the fic is gonna be “names have power- but the name you choose is so much more important than the name you were given”, a continuation of the theme from my Married Valgrace AU (which this is canon to) where Jason chooses to take Leo’s name instead of keeping the name of the mom that abandoned him. I feel like Finley would be a great character to symbolise this- someone who chose his own name.

His favourite colour is green/turquoise

Think of Nico’s scariest moment that you’ve read in canon or in a fic- where he is just a force of complete and utter darkness and death. Are you picturing it? Good. Now multiply that by ten. Now imagine someone tried to misgender his child.

The same can be applied to Will. No transphobe would dare mess with Solangelo’s boy.

He is childhood best friends with the two other main characters, Isabella and Olympia, and talks to them a lot but is kinda shy around everyone else.

He also has a major crush on Isabella- the daughter of Valgrace. I have so many cute hcs about those two y’all have no idea.

He is good with medicine and has a magic first-aid kit that acts a lot like Leo’s tool belt with replenishing supplies.

He loves Star Wars

While all the other characters’ POV chapters have regular PJO-style funny titles, all his chapter titles are TOA-esque haikus.

@demigod-shenanigans @twomanyfandomshelp @puzzled-pegasus @m-for-now @lavenderfairiez @ginnyluna @groverapologist @echo-stimmingrose @keefessketchbook @sleepyycapybara @123letsgobestie @fairytalesociology @four-leafed-queer-gal @child-of-helios @lokiwiiiiiii @yoshuko-ew @frayna-of-the-hollow @via-rant @hadeslegacyhephgirl @pjowasmy1stfandom @thetourturedwritersclub @inky-void @deciduowl @day-draws

[noihavenosanitythanksforasking]

thinking about how milevens tend to assume that bylers want mileven to break up just because we want byler to happen.

no love

wanting byler to be canon and wanting mileven to break up are two separate wants.

Mike and El have their own story outside of will. Even if Mike wasn't queer and Will wasnt around this story would still be their story. Will may be a character in their story but the story is still about mike and el. Mike and Els story line is the marriage of the two of their two individual character arcs.

El's story arc is based around the fact that she was abused as a child and was dehumanized to an extreme level that no child should ever experience. She does not have an identity of her own. She wasn't raised to even expect to have one in the first place. Her story is learning to be able to her own person. To just be herself and learning who that person is.

When she met mike she created an identity around him. and identity of being the super powered mage who saved the day. that was El. then she became mikes gf and suddenly she was now "mikes gf". It wasnt until she met max that someone actually tells her that she is allowed to be her own person. "theres more to life than stupid boys" "what feels right" before Max she was just existing trying to play a role of what she was supposed to be rather than figuring out who she was or who she wanted to be. What she wanted. El is not raised to have wants. El was raised to be a weapon, a lab rat, a tool that does what they are told.

When this story intersects with a story arc like Mike has you get the disaster that is Mileven.

Mikes story arc is actually very similar. Mike is a very codependent person. He wants to feel needed. he wants to feel useful. If he doesnt have a use to someone he thinks he must be a waste of space. Mike doesnt know who he is outside of other people. He has never explored what he wants for himself. He is for other people. As a codependent person myself i can relate to this a lot. It can be hard to know what YOU want for yourself, outside of people you care about. Mike puts his loved ones before himself so much to the fact that it tends to get him into trouble more often than not. The issue with being codependent is that you become almost blind to who YOU are and what YOU need. you suppress your emotions for other people and these emotions only tend to surface when you realize that holy shit. i cant do anything here. This is the situation mike is finding himself in during season 4 and continuing into season 5. there is nothing he can do anymore. it is clear that him putting el above his own feelings and giving her what she wants in his attempt to help is not working. In fact its HURTING his relationship with el. Now mike doesnt know what to do. so he's drifting. El was his trauma partner. when things get too hard and too confusing he retreats into "el mode" where his only thought is what El needs. This is not a healthy mindset AT ALL. no matter how much the media romanticizes that sort of thing. IT IS NOT HEALTHY. you cant live like that. but now El has communicated "i dont want that. stop lying and get your shit together".

so mike is stuck. and el is stuck.

because theirs is a coming of age story. however not all coming of age stories are romantic. Mike and El cannot communicate with each other. they are both selfishly selfless in the way they treat each other.

I am going to be who you want me to be because i think thats what you want and it makes me feel secure.

this is not something you want in a relationship. a relationship is based on trust and vulnerability. being able to be youre rawest and truest form of yourself for another person. and feeling seen and loved despite it.

this is not present AT ALL in mileven as a couple. they are both discovering who they are still and are not space to be doing that in a relationship where they feel the need to hide themselves from each other. you cant find yourself that way.

wow look how much nuance i pulled from mike and el without mentioning will once. wow its almost like will is not the reason their relationship is failing

[maddiebrj]

Guilt Weighs Upon Your Shoulders

COZETTE RAMBLINGS UNDER THE CUT:

I have not been able to get Cozette out of my head for well over a month now. I haven't hyper fixated this much on character in a good while. Cozette is just....so interesting to me for some reason.

I've always liked her as I found her bond with Connie to be really sweet, and she felt like this wise and caring woman. And yes, while I do understand that the twist of her being Zokket is predictable( I speculated to myself that she might have something to do with him), the thing I like about it isn't because of how surprising the reveal was, but rather the layer of depth that it adds to Cozette's character that I wasn't really expecting. And it's depth that I really wish got expended upon in the game. At first, I didn't think too much of it; we now know where Cozette was all this time. But then I saw how she acted after we freed her from Reclusa's control...and then after that, I started to think about her for more than 5 minutes and realized just how sad, confusing, and messed up Cozette's situation actually is.

I..I so wish we got to learn more about Cozette throughout the game because no matter how underutilized she is, I just can't help but feel bad for her. She got corrupted in organizing the destruction of the world she loves and is supposed to protect. Separating friends and families, kidnapping people and forcing them to work in factories, spreading glolm and further separating others. All to aid the rebirth of being that wants to destroy all worlds. And she just has to live with all of that. That definitely did something to her mentally.

I can't help but think of all that. And on top of all THAT, I just feel like this was a misoppurtunity for some good and interesting character interactions. I want to know what all the Concordians think of her besides Connie and Patriarc ( who is another character that I wish got explored more), I want to know how she views the Zok troops and those memos she wrote while in the Zokket persona, I WANT HER TO INTERACT WITH EXTENSION CORPS AT LEAST ONCE.

I want to know... what exactly made Cozette fall to Reclusa's grasp in the first place. Connie asks a good question to the Great Conductor: If Cozette really was controlled by someone else, why is she taking this so personally? And while I bet it has to do with what I listed earlier, the Great Conductor mentions that it has to do with her being taken advantage of a weakness she has and I'm sitting there thinking, "Oh okay, interesting...care to elaborate on that????." From there I tried to find something, ANYTHING on what that weakness might be and just...nothing. Those Grampy turnips that give some lore tidbits on some of the major characters? They say nothing about her. Her one sidequest involves her making a decision that you can't stop her from making and comes to regret. To this day, I am still trying to figure out what that weakness is. I do have some theories.

Overall, I have this feeling that Cozette isn't entirely and that her story in this game isn't complete. It feels like the writers introduced this interesting concept but weren't able to expand fully on it. I can only assume they didn't as they realized how complicated of a situation it is, and it would probably draw too much attention away from the main threat, which is Reclusa. Which, do not get it twisted, Reclusa. Is. AWESOME. But I am left with a bunch of questions.

Tldr: Cozette is very interesting. I wish her character got explored a lot more.

(Oh boy, sorry, this was so long. I wanted to talk about Cozette for a while. Please don't take this as me hating on the game. I just care so much about Cozette :))

[inlovewithpandora]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ — Summers In Pandora ᝰ Day 31 - Body Worship/Praising

Artists — Ao’nung x fem!Metkayina!reader

Lyrics — Tonight Ao’nung wants nothing more than to dive between your pretty thighs but after a long day of duties you’re exhausted. His desire for you burns so hot that he offers to do all the work so you can be his pretty pillow princess.

Music Advisory — SMUT [ mature audiences only!], fluff, established relationship [mates], needy!Ao’nung, [implied] pleasure dom!Ao’nung, soft!Ao’nung, oral sex + fingering [fem receiving], double stimulation, face fucking, hair pulling, aftercare, allusions to male masturbation, lots of compliments and praise ᝰ this fic does contain aged!up character smut so if you don’t like that type of content please don’t interact and continue scrolling!!

Duration — 2.7k words

Index — Tsakarem - Tsahìk-in-training・Sayrìp - Handsome・ Syulang - Flower・Yawne - Love

Words from Artist — This was my first time writing smut for Ao’nung and it was really fun! This idea was originally supposed to be for Kinkmas 2023 but I never finished it so I decided to put a spin on it and make it fit this prompt. As always feel free to comment and reblog, I love reading y’all reactions! I hope you enjoy!!

Current Platforms — event m.list・main m.list・event taglist ・prompt list

Today there was a cold wind blowing throughout the village and it was causing a draft in your home. When the cold breeze kept gliding across your skin you could feel yourself shivering so you decided to start a fire and gather around it so it would warm up yourself and your home. When you start the fire you can immediately feel the heat emitting from it and it's already eliminating the cold air that's constantly flowing inside.

Ao’nung is next to you during the whole process and he watches you in awe, loving how you always take charge and make things happen. You've always been the type of woman to get things done no matter what it requires, you never wait around for a man to assist you and that’s one of the main reasons Ao’nung wanted you as a mate, he absolutely loves that quality about you so by watching you in your element he can’t help but feel a little turned on.

After a while both you find yourselves laying down a few inches away from the fire, your head laying on his chest and arm wrapped around his torso while his hand is resting on your thigh. The night is going perfectly just like you wanted, after the long day you’ve had all you want is to lay with your mate until you drift off to sleep. You can feel your eyes growing heavy so you allow them to close, happily letting sleep take over your body but that plan is interrupted when you feel Ao’nung’s hand travel from your thigh to your ass, squeezing it gently before rubbing it in a circular motion. You already know what he's implying by his actions, you know your mate very well. When he starts rubbing against the flesh of your ass, moving your hair out the way to place soft kisses on your neck, and teasing his fingers around the strings that are holding your loincloth together you know he wants sex.

When you feel his other hand inching toward your bra top you grab his wrist and stop him. “Not right now, baby. I’m tired and I just want to sleep.” From completing your numerous duties around the clan and also having to do your Tsakarem training with Ronal which took several hours, drained all the energy you had stored for the day. If this was a normal day and you had a good amount of energy you would of course engage in the marital act with Ao’nung but tonight you’re just too worn out. “Just let me take a nap and then I’ll do whatever you want, okay?”

Everything you just said basically went in one ear and out the other. Ao’nung doesn’t want to wait, he wants you now. He wants the sweet taste of your arousal on his tongue now, he wants to hear your sweet moans now, he wants to feel your hands gripping his hair as he devoured your heat now, he can’t wait until you wake up from your nap. “I’ll do all the work, all I want is you to lay back and look pretty for me. How does that sound syulang?” Ao’nung practically worships the ground you walk on, whether it’s publicly or privately, he always lets you know how grateful he is to have you, how beautiful you are, and how sexy your body is.

To him this is you’re world and he’s just lucky enough to live in it. Ao’nung is willing to do whatever it takes to see you squirm underneath his touch, he doesn’t want you to feel like you need to please him because by allowing him to pleasure you is enough for him, he could cum from simply knowing he’s satisfied you to the best of his abilities.

When you hear Ao’nung’s offer all you can do is let out a little laugh, you can tell he really wants to dive between your thighs. His eagerness is definitely turning you on, knowing that your mate is craving you without even having to do anything sexual is starting to make a pool of slick form between your legs. At first you were going to brush him off but now his horniness is rubbing off on you so you decide to cave and allow him to have his way with you. “That sounds perfect, sayrìp.”

The words barely have time to settle in Ao’nung’s mind before he pulls you in for a lustful kiss, swirling his tongue around your mouth while gripping your chin, moving his hand down and wrapping it gently around your neck. When Ao’nung can’t contain himself any longer he moves his hands down your body, using his mighty strength to rip off both articles of your clothing, revealing your round perky breasts and the mound of your sweet pussy.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that? Your body is so perfect, made just for me.” Ao’nung whispers as his eyes scan your body in awe, wondering how Eywa found him such a gorgeous and perfect mate. He feels like your body is carved and sculpted just for him, just for his hands to touch, for his eyes to see, and for his body to be pressed against. It isn’t long before his head is between your thighs, the sweet smell of your arousal making him feel like a man possessed as he runs his tongue over your slit, spreading you open in a swift manner before lapping up your juices so the sweetness of your arousal can dance on his tongue. His tongue finds its way to your clit, sucking on your precious pearl which makes you squirm within seconds.

Ao’nung continues swirling his tongue around your clit, giving it a deep kiss while it throbs against his palate, making a breathy moan from you fill the air. It’s a continuous process: flick, lick, suck, all the motions that’ll bring you great pleasure which is exactly what your mate wants. You can feel him spreading your juices on your inner thighs and his saliva running down your folds, making the flat of his tongue caress every pleasure point. After a while he comes up for air, wanting to savor your delicious taste and amazing scent. “Eywa, woman you taste good.” Ao’nung groans, his chest heaving as he catches his breath which makes you giggle because you’re ultimately doing the same before he continues feasting on you.

Once his lungs feel replenished he lowers his head between your thighs again, causing your breath to hitch in your throat at the unexpected feeling of his tongue swirling around the entrance of your pussy. After teasing you for a few moments, enjoying the desperate whines from you filling his ears while making it seem like he would place his tongue inside but only circling around the outer edge, he finally gives you what you want, intruding your hole and pushing his tongue inside.

“Oh, fuck,” You can feel your legs instinctively spread to make more your room for Ao’nung’s head that’s now moving in multiple directions, and your hips thrust upward wanting to feel him as much as possible. Your hands make their way to the top of his head, tangling your fingers in his curly hair as you grind against his face, practically suffocating your poor mate but he’s so drunk off your pussy he doesn’t give a damn.

With each stroke of his tongue he can feel you opening more and more for him, your warm slick leaking out and sliding down his tongue while the access drips down his chin and travels down his neck. Seeing how you’re reacting to him, tightening your grip in his hair, rutting against his face like an animal, and how you’re so eager to cum all over his face makes him want to ram his cock inside you until your eyes are puffy with tears, seeing your arousal stick to his pelvis as he thrusts inside you until he’s filled you to the brim with his warm seed.

The lewd thoughts he’s conjured up in his mind makes him moan into your heat, pressing his tongue further into you as he uses his hand to gently rub circles against your clit for added stimulation and double pleasure. Every small spasm and tiny twitch that ripples through you, Ao’nung call feel. Any movement you make, any warning tremor your body makes that you’re about to cum he reads loud and clear, wanting to make sure when you cum, you cum hard.

“Mmm! Don’t fucking stop!” And with that the Metkayinan goes into overdrive, his mouth, tongue, and fingers begin to work tirelessly, switching between slurping up every single drop of your sweet juices and swirling around your clit, smothering himself by stuffing his nose into your mound to reach the depths of you and fill his nostrils with your intoxicating aroma. Right now he doesn’t even care about his aching jaw, throbbing cock, or lack of oxygen, all he wants to do is please the woman he’s been blessed with.

Ao’nung slips two of his fingers into your wetness with ease and curls them just right, causing his fingertips to press against your sweet spot. His thick fingers stretch you out beautifully, and that paired with his controlled strokes, powerful sucks and long licks of his mouth, he coaxes you over the edge, bringing forth an ecstasy that only he can give your body. A sharp gasp leaves your lips, your grasp tightening the strands of his hair as your thighs snap close around his head, not allowing him any movement other than continuing to devour your heat.

Your orgasm almost takes you out, it makes you shake, your muscles spasm and twitch uncontrollably as your back arches off the mat underneath you and soon it turns into complete bliss. His fingers continue their relentless pace of pumping in and out of you, lengthening your orgasm while he gently kisses and sucks on your clit until your body slowly goes limp from the incredible pleasure he’s inflicting on you.

Ao’nung’s hand wraps around your thigh, gently tapping your supple skin, silently telling you to untangle yourself from him which you do in an instant, unwrapping your legs from around his shoulders and allowing him to sit up properly. When your eyes look up at him he’s glistening in your slick. His chin, lips, and nose are covered in your juices, making your cheeks heat up from the sight. When your eyes trail down his body you notice the outline of his hardened cock straining against the woven material of his loincloth, making your mouth water at how enlarged it looks and the blots of pre-cum you can see soaking through.

You blink up at Ao'nung, still feeling the warm tingles of aftershocks in your body as he starts to clean you with careful, practiced strokes. The damp cloth is soothing against your oversensitive skin, his touch so light it feels like a whisper. His soft hums of approval and the quiet murmurs of praise in your native tongue send shivers down your spine. "You are perfection, syulang," he murmurs, his deep voice like a soothing balm. "You have given me all I need tonight. Just seeing you like this... it is enough."

Your hairless brows knit together, lips parting as you glance down at the evidence of his own arousal, still taut against the fabric of his loincloth. The woven material struggles to contain him and his cock is practically growing in size by the minute. Your mate is anything but sated, and you know it. “But Ao’nung,” you protest while propping yourself up by your forearms, your voice slightly hoarse as you try to speak. “you haven’t—”

Ao’nung’s hand pauses, the damp cloth resting on your thigh as he takes a moment to study your face and the expression it holds. The slight flush in your cheeks, the way your chest rises and falls as you catch your breath, and the glazed-over look in your eyes tell him everything he needs to know. “You’re exhausted, y/n,” he murmurs, his voice laced with special tenderness that’s strictly reserved for you. He gently brushes a stray strand of hair away from your damp forehead, his fingers lingering against your temple. “I pushed you enough tonight. You’ve done more than enough for me.”

“But yawne—”

He shakes his head firmly, though his touch remains soft as he resumes cleaning you with the damp cloth. “No, syulang. You need to rest. It doesn’t feel right to make you do more when I can see how tired you are.” His gaze flickers to your trembling thighs and then back to face that clearly shows how sleepy you are. “I’ll be fine. Just go to sleep.”

As his wife you feel like it is your duty to sexually gratify your husband no matter what so the idea of leaving him unsatisfied sits uneasily in your mind. You reach for his wrist, stopping him mid-movement. “It doesn’t feel right to leave you like this,” you tell him, your voice firm despite the fatigue threatening to pull you under. “You’re my mate. I need to take care of you too.”

Ao’nung’s lips quirk into a faint, affectionate smile. “Stubborn, as always,” he mutters under his breath, though his tone is filled with nothing but adoration. “You’ve already taken care of me. Watching you cum for me is all I needed.”

Still, you persist, your hand tightening slightly around his wrist, wanting him to just give in already and allow you to reciprocate the pleasure he gave you. “Well, It doesn’t feel like enough.”

Ao’nung lets out a low chuckle at how persistent you are and how you’re fighting sleep just so you can return the favor, which makes him just fall deeper in love with you. His free hand comes up to cup your cheek, forcing you to meet his gaze. “It’s enough for me,” he says softly, his thumb brushing along your cheekbone. “I would much rather you rest than push yourself when I know you’re already spent.”

You open your mouth to argue again, but Ao’nung leans forward, pressing a firm kiss to your forehead that causes you to silence your words before you can make them audible. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll take care of it myself if I need to.” He doesn’t mind jerking off to flashbacks of you trembling under his touch, imagining your warmth wrapped around his cock, and running his thumb over his oozing tip and imagining it as your tongue, if it means his mate can get some well deserved rest.

“Ao’nung, just let me—”

“Shh,” he murmurs, his fingers sliding down to your shoulder, guiding you gently to lie back down so you can finally get sleep. “Close your eyes. You’ve done more than enough for me tonight.”

A part of you wants to push and continue fighting him on the idea of letting him handle his hardened cock alone but the weight of exhaustion finally takes over, your body sinking into the soft mat and you allow your mate to win this time. Ao’nung pulls the blanket over you, his hands lingering to make sure you’re fully covered and comfortable.

As your eyelids grow heavy, you hear him whisper in your ear one last time, his voice low and soothing as he lightly strokes your hair, something he knows helps calm your mind and body. “Sleep, my beautiful mate. You’re all I’ll ever need.” As the words leave his lips he settles beside you, his presence warm and protective as you drift off into a dream state. For now he’s here to make sure your night is peaceful and your sleep is without interruption but later tonight, when you’re hours into your much needed rest, he’ll be in the other room stroking his cock to the thought of your exquisite beauty and gorgeous physique.

Fanbase — @eme1hyst @o-kingston @erenjaegerwifee @Kaydoux @biaaaaaaaa1 @hikotaru @thisaintredwine @lexieeeeeeeei @that-gurl25 @simpingforbelphegor @Peanut713521 @anemonelovesfiction @jakesullyfatjuicypeen @makaylalovessmut @lustforlana4 @Anita @pandoraslxna @iris-xoxo-juhu @domineezy @hc-geralt-23 @ikeyniofthetayrangi @aonungmyaddiction @savagemickey03 @buble787635 @normspellmann @em-x0 @sliqeramx @lexasaurs634 @deadgirlrin @lina @merlinbtch @sussybaka10 @galactict3a @shima @rae @bigdikzaddy @roseblushpink1 @3xclusive_kylani @Bubble787635 @casualmilkshakecupcake @ninaa @atomicslimetoadstudent @shmaptainbonky @moonstidalwaves @jayy-24 @emilymikado

— all rights reserved © INLOVEWITHPANDORA 2025. all fanfics belong to me, do not copy, translate, repost nor recommend on tiktok any of the works seen here.

[lou-struck]

Made With Love Part 5

Made with Love  pt 5

OM Brothers & Datables x reader

Featuring: Simeon and a bonus character

SERIES MASTERLIST

Warnings: yandere Simeon, mentions of kidnapping, passing out, overexertion. Slightly suggestive behavior.  Love Potion based personality changes, obsessive behaviors, mention of suggestive behavior, lots of teasing, kissing, touching, etc.

A/n: Thank you to everyone who stuck with me through this process, I know it took awhile to finish this mini series but I hope that it’s worth it.

As the Sorcerer's words echo through the dark, a disbelieving shiver trails down your spine. "Can you please repeat that, Solomon," you ask, hoping that your fatigue has made you auditorily hallucinate and everything will be fine.

His hand comes to rest on your arm, the comforting gesture does little to calm your nerves when the worry in his eyes shines as bright as the human world sun. "Depending on many factors, potions can affect individuals differently. As an angel, this twisted love potion may be much more potent on Simeon than it was on any of the Demons. I advise you to be on your guard when confronting him."

"So the kiss may not work at all?" you ask, trying your best to remain calm, but the slight tremor in your voice betrays you.

He shakes his head, "I'm afraid that's the case." His eyes fill with concern as they flick to the window. "I wonder if I should head back to the lab to try and create an antidote, in case you were to, to."

"In case I fail," you say dryly, understanding the severity of the situation. "But there still is a chance that I can help him, so I'm gonna take it. You should go back to Purgatory Hall; Luke should be…~"

Crap

For the first time in hours, you remember that you did not start this quest on your own. Poor Luke must be freaking out all by himself. You were supposed to check in with the angel, but after your DDD was waterlogged, thanks to Levi, you haven't been able to contact him at all. 

"What's the matter Mc?" Solomon asks gently, grabbing ahold of your arm. The warmth radiating from his fingertips brings you back down to earth. "You look like you've seen a ghost. 

"It's Luke," you answer, guilt flooding your features at just the mention of the little helper's name. "I was supposed to call him and check in while he has been working on the antidote but I couldn't. Do you have your DDD on you by chance?"

"Do I?" He furrows his brows and pats his pockets. Finding nothing, he frowns. "Sorry, I must've left it in the Banquet Hall. I recall having it when I arrived, but after everything that happened, I must've forgotten to pick it up."

You frown. Just standing around is wasting precious time, but you dread the words that are about to leave your lips. "You should head back. Get the others up to speed and check up on Luke for me, okay?"

"I don't want to leave you," he says; the fire in his eyes tells you that he means it with every fiber of his being. "Not when things are the way they are. 

"Technically, I should be the safest out of everyone." you mention, "At least we know what Simeon wants with me; if one of you guys ran into him, it could be a different story."

The determination on your features draws a long sigh from Solomon, one that really reveals his age. "Are you really okay with trying to find him on your own?"

You nod, giving him what you believe to be a convincing smile. "There is still a possibility that I can break the spell on my own. But if I can't, I promise I will call for help. 

"If that's what you think is best," he sighs, "But I can't say I'm happy with this arrangement."

"I know you aren't," you say quickly.  "But thank you for going along with my plan."

Before he turns to go, he grabs your hand and looks deep into your eyes. "Please be careful, Mc. He may look the same, but that is not the Simeon you know. If things get dicey, just call for me. Please, Mc, promise me you won't try to be a hero and do this on your own. None of us would be able to handle it if something were to happen to you. I wouldn't be able to handle it if you got hurt."

"I promise. I'll be careful," you say solemnly and he shoots you one last glance, begging for you to change your mind before he turns and leaves through a door. 

The feeling of loneliness comes quickly; all of your senses feel as if they have been heightened by your current fear. Every shadow that passes you resembles a hand ready to pull you into the darkness, and now you really want to go home. 

Where could Simeon be?

The Library?

The Botanical gardens?

The Bathroom?

With the thousands of hiding spots in front of you, you can't help but feel a tad overwhelmed. Your heart rate rises and the stone pattern on the tiles blur under your overwhelmed gaze. You stumble slightly over a divot in the hall and reach out to a long end table to steady yourself. 

The porcelain vase rattles but, thankfully, doesn't come crashing down. 

Just as you breathe a sigh of relief, a low laughter reaches your ears, and you turn your end to the wall of shadows at the end of the hallway.

Ah, alone at last Mc," Simeon coo's stepping out from behind a pillar, brilliant white wings out on display as he takes you in with dark eyes. "You have no idea what kinds of fun I have planned for the two of us now that I have you all to myself. His usual angelic aura is replaced with one that is dark and menacing; against your better judgment, you are hit with an incapacitating wave of fear. 

All it takes is one single step toward you for your courage to falter as one thought races through your mind on loop.

This isn't Simeon…

You turn and run.

~

At long last, Luke has done it…he thinks. 

The Lab smells of black licorice and garlic as the angel's slightly elongated reflection stares back at him as he gazes into the Deep lavender concoction that is supposed to solve everything. This cure should make everyone stop acting so scary, and you can still have the Valentine's Day party you deserve. 

But something feels wrong. 

You haven't messaged him once through this whole process. Every time Luke stares at his empty inbox, his heart breaks a bit more as he imagines those obsessive demons taking you away forever. 

Simeon'

What is going on over there?

Unable to wait any longer for the potion to cool, Luke takes it off its burner. The vial is painfully hot in his hands, but he doesn't let go as he puts a cork in it and runs out of the Lab in a flash. 

The sudden burst of cold air in his lungs makes the little angel struggle to breathe, but he keeps running. The taller demons he passes on the street give him odd looks as he passes, but he doesn't have time to care. 

Keeping his eyes trained on the wet ground below, he doesn't see the large man-shark demon stepping into his path until he makes contact with his slick, gray skin. Being much lighter than that massive demon, Luke bounces off of him and hits the ground hard. 

His knees sting as they scrape the ground and turn an angry red color, but as he struggles to regain his breath, all he can think of is the potion. 

Did he break it?

"Hey, little guy?" the demon he had crashed into earlier says, holding out a fin. "Are you okay? That was quite the spill."

Luke takes the fin and gets to his feet. He holds the antidote a bit closer to his chest. "I'm fine, I'm really sorry for running into you, but I have to go."

"It's cool, I get it." the demon says, smiling with his rows and rows and rows of jagged teeth. "Have a good one."

Luke nods and starts to run once more. His stomach twists and turns as he thinks of Simeon, of Barbatos, of you. 

While his tired, little mind may be making him think the worst, he has this strange feeling that you are in trouble. 

Simeon~

You're in trouble. 

Out of breath, you find yourself in the middle of the empty ballroom. The crystal chandelier gleams in the moonlight as a few white feathers float gently to the ground, each one casting a new shadow in Simeon's image. 

He's toying with you. 

"Are you done running?" His voice echoes through the darkness. "You must be tired, poor thing, won't you come here?" his tone is soft, angelic, and it brings tears to your eyes as you fight your natural instinct to run into his arms. 

Although you cannot see him, you can feel his presence, he isn't just watching you at this point, he's hunting you. The intense power radiating from the darkness causes your knees to tremble as you stumble over to the wall. Your body feels far weaker than normal, but your mind is still sharp. 

The potion is clearly still effective on him, so it could be entirely possible that he truly is as possessive as the others claimed he was. Meaning, you can use it to your advantage. 

"Simeon, c-could you please come out here?" you call, forcing your voice to waver a bit more than necessary to lure him out.  "Please, I got rid of the others, so It's just us. I-i want to spend my Valentine's Day with you."

You pause, awaiting his response, but get nothing. If your angel heard you, he doesn't seem to be taking the bait. Squinting through the room, you search for any sign of motion finding nothing. 

Walking over to the partially drawn curtains, your fingers close around the thick woven cord and give it a light tug. A bit more moonlight would make your search for Simeon a bit easier, but you find it doesn't budge. 

Gritting your teeth, you pull at it again and again, until the velvet drapery slides, revealing a disheveled Simeon who greets you with a manic grin. 

"You've done well my darling." he coo's those bright, beautiful blue eyes of his practically concealed by those enlarged hearts. "You found what was behind curtain number one."

His skin feels like it's on fire as his hand latches around your wrist. You gasp at the sensation and instinctively try to step away, but he doesn't let you. 

You are enveloped in his steaming embrace as he nuzzles his face into your hair. The faint glow of his wings illuminates the room as his feathers cocoon you. Despite the circumstances, you relax under his familiar touch. "Please don't be afraid of me." he murmurs, his voice soft and genuine as he tries to comfort you.

"I'm not afraid of you Simeon," you answer truthfully, "I could never be afraid of you. Today has just been difficult."

"I know My Love," he says, smiling into your hair. There is something eerie in his tone that puts you on edge. "It must've been difficult playing this little game of hide and seek all by yourself, but you did it. You found everyone, Just like I thought you would."

As his words wash over you, your stomach sinks and you twist around to face him. "What are you talking about?"

He smiles as he grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze as he eyes you with predatory hunger. "Did you have fun getting your special little moment with everyone else? Did you enjoy their pathetic displays of infatuation, picking off each lovesick fool one by one and sending them off with just a little kiss?"

The Venom in his words causes you to squirm in his hold. "You were watching me?"

"Since you stepped foot in this castle," he grins his nails gently tracing the side of your face. "But unlike those demons, I showed restraint and waited for them to get out of the way. Like always, they were too greedy to focus on the big picture."

Perhaps it's the unusual bout of exhaustion you are feeling, but you're having trouble seeing what Simeon is referring to as the 'big picture' as well. "And what would that be?" You ask carefully.

"Before now, I was always the one to make sacrifices when it came to spending time with you. Whenever I try, you always get taken away from me to either play peacemaker to those selfish demons when they cause problems they lack the mental fortitude to fix themselves, get treated like one of Solomon's little lab rats, or play babysitter to Luke, who is afraid of his own shadow." He is so vexed at the words spewing out of his mouth that his body temperature increases even higher than before, making this smothering contact stiflingly warm. 

There is real pain behind his harsh words, the kind that definitely could be exploited by a personality-altering Love Potion; your heart breaks for the neglected angel. "Simeon…"

"So you can see it too?"  I am done taking a backseat and watching everyone sweep you off your feet while I am obligated to give up my heart's desire." White feathers twitch as their owner stares down at you darkly. "So I will take you away and dedicate every waking moment of my life to keeping your content."

With wings like those, Simeon could easily carry you away from the Devildom, and judging from the look of desperation on his face, he is planning on doing just that. 

"Please listen to me," you plead, placing your hand on his chest; his heart is beating out of control, "It's the Love Potion talking; you don't really want to do this. Let me help you."

He looks as if you had just slapped him across the face. His emotions are going from one extreme to the other. "How can you say that, Mc? How can you say that I wouldn't want to be near you at all times?"

"I'm sorry, I just never saw things that way until now." you apologize softly. "I never realized how little time we get to spend together. But I would like to fix it if you would allow me to."

The hearts shrink in size as you gently cup his overheating face, his blush looks painfully deep as you press your lips to his, softly at first, but the kiss quickly turns desperate as you think of all the times Simeon has had to play the good sport. 

Although kindness is one of his best traits, you fell in Love with Simeon, not the worn doormat he perceives himself to be at the moment. You love his wit, his creativity, his warmth. 

You pour your affections into the kiss, but something feels off. 

Your body tingles as you feel your energy being drained from you at a rapid pace. Your arm becomes slack as it falls from Simeon's face and hangs limply.

Your eyes widen as you stare up at Simeon helplessly. A look of Victory on his face as he boops your nose. "Oh come on Darling; You're going to have to give me much more than that."

~

The doors to the banquet hall part for Solomon as he approaches, but as he sees the nine pairs of eyes on him, he wishes he could be anywhere else at the moment. When the awaiting demons realize it is just him, their eager, hopeful looks turn mostly cold and disinterested.

It stings. 

"Diavolo is the first to greet him with a warm smile as the Prince strides over and pats him on the back. "Solomon, I am relieved to see that you have come back to us in one piece~."

"Where's Mc?" Mammon says interrupting his monarch, earring a murderous glare from Barbatos and a thwack to the back of the head from Lucifer.

Exhaling, his thoughts return to you, "Mc…Stayed behind to find Simeon on their own. I offered to help but they felt it was best if they faced him alone. Given the circumstances."

Satan sits up straighter in his chair, "That appears to be the best course of action," he relents. "We all saw Simeon; I fear if he were to run into one of us, he might become violent. But he would never hurt Mc, potion or no potion."

Asmodeus, the only one of the Avatars of Sin Solomon has a pact with, narrows his eyes, and sends the Sorcerer an accusatory glare. "There's something you're not telling us Hon; what is it?"

Signing deeper, he internally curses the demon for seeing through him so quickly. "There is a chance Mc will not be able to break the spell on Simeon with just a kiss. I heard Luke is back at Purgatory Hall working on an antidote as we speak in case they were to fail."

The room goes deathly quiet as everyone recalls Simeon's deranged promises from earlier. If you are at his mercy with no way of breaking the spell, he may have the upperhand and escape the Devildom with you. 

"That is serious," Diavolo frowns, addressing the room, "We must find them and restrain Simeon before he does anything he'll regret. Mc's safety takes priority right now."

"Something's wrong," Lucifer says from his seat. "I'm having trouble detecting Mc's presence."

"Has the Dark Angel made his move already?" Levi shudders. 

"Did you really give Simeon a nickname at a time like this?" Belphie asks, looking rather irritated. "I'm tired of waiting around while Mc is in danger."

Tired

That one little word causes Solomon's eye to widen as the passage of potion side effects flashes through his mind. 

"I know that look," Barbatos says wearily. "What are you thinking about?"

"I think," he says, his mouth bone dry as he speaks. "We need to go find Mc, right now."

Simeon II ~

"Did you really think it was going to be that easy, Mc? Did you really think that I would just throw away the chance to keep you all to myself because of a little kiss?" He asks, his hand rising to gently stroke your cheek, forcing you to stare into his unnerving heart-shaped pupils. The hearts are dilating and constricting so rapidly they look as if they are beating. "I want more…"

"What's going on?" you breathe as Simeon holds your numb body like you're a porcelain doll. "Simeon, why can't I move?"

"Don't worry My Darling. It's not permanent, but this does make our dramatic escape a bit easier for me." He smiles, pressing another kiss onto your forehead as if he is mocking your earlier attempt of breaking the spell. Upon seeing your frightened features, he gently bushes a few strands of hair from your face. "Oh, don't look at me like that, Mc; my heart won't be able to take it."

"What did you do?"

His smile grows wider, "I didn't do anything. The one responsible for the little state of exhaustion you find yourself in, is you."

"Wha~"

"My selfless little love, did you not realize that with each kiss you gave to break the spell, you have been draining your energy?" he asks amusedly. "Or did you believe you were tired from walking all this time?"

"You're right," you say after a moment of contemplation. You have felt the tug of exhaustion but never even considered that breaking the spell would have an effect on you. You really thought you were feeling the effects of stress or not drinking enough water. "But how did you know?"

"Because I see you, Mc," he coos, "The others, time and time again, take advantage of that big, beautiful heart of yours. Let me help you. Let me take you away from all of this so I can worship you the way you deserve to be. Every day will feel like heaven; I will dedicate every waking moment to your rapture; you will be so content, you will never long for anyone else, only me."

He steps closer to the balcony doors as you scream at your tired limbs to move. Your Fingertips twitch slightly, but it's not enough. You need to buy yourself some more time. "Simeon, we can't do this. We can't just leave behind everyone else."

He stops in his tracks, "You don't love me?" he asks, his voice tender with emotion as hurt fills his bewitched eyes. The hearts have stopped beating, but yours aches at the accusation. 

"Of course I love you Simeon," you say quickly, the wide, lovesick grin returning to his face at your words. "But I am happy here, and I know you are too. The other~"

"Will never stop using you," he interrupts, not taking his eyes off of you. "Aren't you tired Mc? Every day, you get thrown into the path of danger. And have to be the one to fix it. I saw what Leviathan did to you. I was this close to stepping in and striking him down, but then you broke the spell, And he was back to his pathetic self."

"That was an accident, he wasn't in control of his own actions." You say, coming to the thirdborn's defense. "But I still care about him."

"The others are not different, Beelzebub, Diavolo, Solomon. Their Love does not even compare to what I feel for you." Tears well in Simeon's eyes as he shakes. These words coming out of his mouth are so unkind; there is no way Simeon would say these things about his friends, his former brothers, and Luke, the one who looks up to him like an older brother.

"What about the Love you have for them? These are your friends, your family. How can you turn on them so easily?" 

"Because you are~" he pauses, furrowing his brow as he tries to remain focused on his words, on his obsession. It seems that the real Simeon is fighting below the surface, trying to break out of the enchantment. "You are everything to me, the only Love I need. And I will do whatever I can to keep you safe."

He starts to walk out the balcony doors. The cold air makes you shiver as your stomach sinks in despair. You can't fail, not now. 

"Simeon, I can't let you do this." 

With your remaining energy you reach up to grab his face, kissing him once more, pouring not just your Love into the action, but everything else you possess. With Simeon fighting the battle on the inside, the two of your souls meet at the impact point.

Your muscles go slack as you and Simeon drop to the floor, exhausted. Your lids are heavy as you watch him blink away the hearts in his eyes. 

With the fog cleared, he stares down at your weakened form with fear. "Mc? What happened? What did I do?"

"You're back. I'm so relieved." you murmur before you lose consciousness. 

~

Simeon holds you gently, real tears streaming down his cheeks as he sobs out quiet apologies for only you to hear. Although the details come back to him slowly, he knows that he is the one to blame for the state you are in. Alive, but completely drained of energy.

He had brought you back inside from the chilly balcony, allowing his wings to disappear. He does not feel very much like an Angel right now.

A stampede of footsteps approaches and he tenses up, waiting for the consequences of his actions to tear him apart. 

~

Being completely drained of energy is a weird sensation. 

You aren't unconscious, but you aren't quite with everyone. Many concerned voices come through your ears, muffled, as if your ears have been stuffed with cotton. 

Mammon, as the fastest of the bunch, was the first to come to your side. You recall him sliding across the marble floor, stealing you away from Simeon's trembling arms, trying desperately to shake you awake. 

"Why aren't they waking up?" he mumbles, his tone worried, yet angry, and you know he is looking at Simeon.

"They used all their energy," another voice, Solomon, says plainly. "It was a side effect from breaking the spell we were under. I didn't put two and two together at the time, but Mc gave us each a bit of their energy with their kiss."

"I see," Barbatos muses "So that was what was bothering you Solomon."

You feel your body taken carefully from Mammon's arms as you are cradled against a broad chest. Diavolo's voice is comforting in your ear as he whispers. "You did well, Mc; once again, the Devildom is in your debt." his warm power courses through you as you begin to recover a part of your strength. 

"But when will they wake up?" Beel asks worriedly. "They need to eat if they want to restore their strength."

"Maybe we should let them sleep," Belphie hums. "That always makes me feel better."

"Yer always sleeping," Mammon sighs. 

"I'm awake." You mutter weakly, opening your eyes. You are completely surrounded by your loved ones, the nine demons and the Sorcerer look weary but relieved to see you awake.

"You did it, Hon." Asmo smiles, smoothing your messed up hair. "You saved us all."

"And I'm sure I've never looked better," you quip, earning a warm chuckle from Diavolo and the others, but you notice something just out of the corner of your eye. "Oh Simeon.."

Simeon watches you from afar, still on the floor. When he notices you looking at him, he quickly averts his gaze, ashamed of his actions under the spell.

Seeing him like this breaks your heart. Sensing your distress, Lucifer breaks away from the group. You watch as he walks over to Simeon and extends a hand to his former brother. "Come on," he says, "Mc should spend the rest of the day with everyone they care about." 

You nod encouragingly to Diavolo to set you down as Simeon takes Lucifer's hand, getting slowly to his feet. His steps are small as he approaches. "How are you feeling?" he asks softly. 

You wrap your arms around him, and he relaxes under your gentle touch. "A little tired, but I'm glad that everything is back to normal."

"I'm relieved to hear you say that. But words cannot express how sorry I am for putting you through all that." he begins, this time looking around at everyone. "The potion seemed to feed on my inner insecurities, twisting my desires and taking control of my body, please believe me that the words I was saying were not entirely my own."

"I am sure we all said things we didn't mean," Diavolo shudders, recalling his earlier behavior, "But I promise you that no one here is at liberty to pass judgment.

"Even so, you were an amazing Final Boss Simeon." Levi gushes, the respect he has for his idol not diminished in the slightest.

"Oh, well thank you Leviatan." Simeon replies. "Perhaps this will make for an entertaining plot in my next novel. Perhaps you could assist me with the details."

Levi looks so overjoyed he is about to faint, so you step in, taking Simeon's hand and giving it a squeeze, "I'm just glad we are all together now."

"Does that mean we can get back to the feast?" Beel asks hopefully. "I'm starving."

"What else is new?" Satan sighs, turning his attention to you. "You had us worried, you have to stop doing that."

"Speaking of worried." Barbatos adds with a frown. "Where is Luke?"

"Oh my," Solomon pales. "In the excitement, I forgot to contact him when I arrived at the banquet hall. Should I go find him and tell him that the spell has broken?"

"Poor Chihuahua, he must be freakin out right now." Mammon sighs, running a hand through his hair. 

"Perhaps you should go get him, Mammon," Lucifer says. 

"I'm here," a small voice calls, pushing through the doors. 

Luke pants hunched over, holding a small glass vial close to his chest. "I got the antidote."

"You created an antidote all by yourself?" Simeon asks, coming over to crouch next to his out-of-breath companion. "I am so proud of you, Luke."

"Me too," you hum, coming to the other side of him. 

He preens under your praise but looks around the room, counting each individual with a frown. "Wait… Is everyone back to normal? What did I miss?"

The room falls silent as everyone glances at each other awkwardly, not wanting to discuss the more intimate details of your afternoon with the Little Angel. 

"Mc was able to break the spell," Babatos answers simply. "But your alchemic success will not go unnoticed, I'll see to it that you receive extra credit in your chemistry class."

Luke's cheeks burn crimson at Barbatos' compliment. "R-really?"

"Absolutely, you did well Luke," you say kindly. "But I am sorry for not contacting you, I fell into the pool and my DDD was ruined."

"My bad," Levi mutters, his face turning redder than Lukes. 

Diavolo, being the diplomat he is, claps his hands together. "Since we are all together now, I saw we all return to the banquet hall and enjoy the rest of the party. I believe Mc would enjoy some rest and refreshments."

"No more cookies though," Asmodues chuckles, sending you a playful wink. "I don't think Mc could handle any more excitement today."

"I'll dispose of them personally when we get back to the banquet hall," Lucifer promises you, placing his hand on your lower back, "But I will make sure to reward you for your efforts when you regain your strength."

"Hey, stop flirtin' with 'em, Lucifer," Mammon grumbles, yanking you away from the firstborn. "They've had enough of that today."

Mephisto (Bonus) ~

Although the President of the RAD Newspaper Club heard that today, Lord Diavolo had thrown together a private celebration in your honor and canceled his many appointments, he still decided to stop by the castle.

There is a large, elegantly wrapped present in his hands as he walks eagerly toward the banquet hall. Imagining the look of surprise on your face when you see that he has brought you some of your favorite gifts. 

Presenting you with such a gift would surely make the Noble Demon look better in the eyes of his Prince. 

It certainly isn't because he has feelings for you or anything like that. 

It's just politics… or so he tells himself. 

Checking his reflection in the hallway mirror just outside of the banquet hall. He readjusts his tie and smoothes out his hair, making it look just so.

With no attendants on duty, the doors open for him, magically revealing, much to his disappointment, an empty room. 

'Where is everyone?' he murmurs, scanning the room. The tables are filled with food, and there is a large, unopened pile of gifts by the fireplace, but none of the attendees are around to enjoy them. 

The dark hum of magic fills the room causing the demon to turn to the end table, where a small plate of heart-shaped cookies sits innocently seeingly appeared out of thin air. 

"Strange," he says to himself observing the platter. The warm smell tantalizes his nose, and he is reminded of the sweet vanilla fragrance you wore to the ball the other night. "I wonder…"

He looks around sheepishly, hoping no one observes his little lapse in self-control. He had been taught by his governess from a young age that it is rude to take food from a gathering he wasn't invited to. 

But he can't help it. 

Raising the cookie to his lips, he takes a bite.

Tagging; @pixelcafe-network

[tiredandoptimistic]

I've seen the take floating around that Henry's death at the end of season three was unnecessary, so now I'm feeling the need to ramble a bit about why it had to happen that way.

We all know that the vibes of MASH gradually shift over the run of the show, and that the first three seasons are a lot more lighthearted overall than the later ones. More Requiem for a Lightweight, less Death Takes a Holiday. While the show is never exactly "hijinks at the front" and does have some early episodes that lean into darker themes (such as, famously, Sometimes You Hear the Bullet), it's still more comedic than dramatic in the early years.

Because of this tone, the audience is set up to expect things to be a little angsty here and there but still turn out alright overall. Sure, soldiers die all the time (even named ones like Tommy), but all the main characters were supposed to get out okay. From a Doylist perspective, they need to survive because they're leads on a show and they're getting paid to come back regularly. Not Henry though. McLean Stevenson chose to leave after season three, and the writers had to give Henry a proper sendoff.

I'm not feeling the need to go on a tangent right now about how great Henry is, but rest assured that I love his character. The show makes it clear that he's the one with the most waiting for him back home. Sure, Trapper and Frank have wives and kids too, but Henry gets multiple episodes about how much he loves Lorraine and even home videos of his happy domestic life. Plus, he's got a baby son born while he was overseas, someone he desperately wants to meet. Out of all the characters, he's got the most American dream and apple pie life waiting for him across the ocean.

All of that makes Henry a great person to send home, and it's why he could never make it there.

Once Stevenson decided to leave MASH, Henry was fated to leave as well. He got the discharge letter and the celebrations; everything all the characters had been dreaming off since their deployment. It would have been so easy to just let him return to his family. He's off the show either way, why couldn't the writers let him be happy? Because it's a fucking war, and even a plane home doesn't guarantee anyone's safety. The show needed to kill Henry off to remind the audience that they are watching a tragedy dragged across dozens of countries and millions of people. The closer they let him get to home, the more pointless his death was in the grand scheme of things; the more important it became.

Killing Henry is how MASH fully lived up to it's own expectations. The show is full of little tragedies and people with rich lives who never returned to live them, but we never really felt that loss as more than a concept. Sure, Tommy is instantly likeable and his death his deeply impactful, but we the audience only get the implication of Hawkeye's deep friendship with him. Henry is someone we've come to love on our own. All these deaths are pointless and cruel, none of them had to happen. Because we've spent three seasons getting to know and care for Henry (and are aware that the writers could have easily let him live), we finally feel that pointlessness.

Going forward after Henry's death, nothing is quite the same. Death is suddenly a true option, and no one is entirely safe from needless tragedy. When Trapper goes home and Hawkeye doesn't get to say goodbye it isn't just sad because he can't throw his friend a party or give him a hug, it's heartbreaking because he doesn't know that Trapper will even make it back to Boston.

Going home will always be the ultimate goal of all the characters, but it can never be a simple "get out of trauma free" card. The war will always follow them.

[mcrdvcks]

—what is this feeling?

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: 16.2k+ (31.6k+ total)

pairing: Peter Lyman x fem!reader

notes: i watched scoop (2006) for the first time a week-ish ago and i needed to write something with peter. it's kinda canon to the movie—in the sense that it follows a tiny bit of the story, mainly just the parties that were shown.

this was actually a bit hard to write, i kept second guessing myself wondering if i got his character right or not. i hope i did, bc this is a roller coaster. and also, be sure to look at the tags, because when i say toxic peter lyman, i mean it. and please don't ask how this is 32k words, i have no idea how it happened 😅

since it is so long, there are two parts to this since tumblr has a word limit!

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 2 ♡

You looked away from the mirror at your friend Olivia, who just got off the phone. “I’m sorry. I can’t go tonight. My boss just called about a work emergency and it’s all hands-on deck.”

“Oh.” You replied, setting down your lipstick, one you thankfully hadn’t applied yet. “Well, I guess I’ll get out of your hair and go back to my pla—”

Olivia gasped, holding you by the shoulders. “What? No, you’re going to that concert.”

Your eyebrows rose and you stuttered, “but—”

She cut you off with a grin, “c’mon, it’ll give you time to bond with Peter.” Olivia drawled.

You felt your cheeks heat up, “I don’t…” You trailed off, looking away from her and focusing on the wall behind her. There was a small blotch of white paint on her tan wall.

“You’ve spent a lot of time with him. Ever since we were kids.”

"Yeah, but he’s your cousin," you interjected, hoping Olivia would drop it.

Olivia rolled her eyes, squeezing your shoulders for emphasis. “Seriously, Y/N, it’s Peter. He’s nice, he likes you, and you’ve been to a million family things with him. What’s the big deal?”

You frowned, shaking her hands off. “It’s different, okay? You’re usually there, or someone else is. I don’t—I just feel awkward when it’s just the two of us.”

She gave you a knowing smirk, leaning against the doorframe. “Awkward, huh? Or are you worried you’ll stutter every time he so much as looks at you?”

“I don’t—” you started to protest, but Olivia laughed.

“You do. You totally do.”

You crossed your arms, cheeks burning. “Can we not do this right now? I’ll just tell him you can’t make it, and we’ll both skip—problem solved.”

Olivia groaned and grabbed her coat. “Nope, not happening. He’s already on his way to pick us up. You’re going. You’re putting on that lipstick. And you’re going to sit through the concert without spontaneously combusting.”

“Liv!” you whined, but she just winked, swinging her bag over her shoulder.

“Have fun!” she chirped, then disappeared out the door before you could come up with a good excuse to chase her down.

---

Peter arrived about fifteen minutes later, sharp as ever in a tailored black coat and that impossibly confident smile. You opened the door, trying not to feel self-conscious under his gaze.

“Y/N,” he greeted warmly. “Ready for the evening?”

“Uh, yeah,” you stammered, stepping aside to let him in. “Liv had a work thing come up, so it’s just, um… us.”

He raised an eyebrow, a flicker of surprise passing over his face before he nodded. “Shame she can’t make it. But I suppose it’ll give us a chance to catch up.”

You managed a small smile, grabbing your coat. “Right. Catch up.”

---

The car ride to the concert hall was quiet, save for Peter’s occasional remarks about the evening’s program. He seemed perfectly at ease, while you stared out the window, hyper-aware of how close you were sitting.

When the car stopped, Peter stepped out first, offering you a hand as you climbed out. “You’ve been here before, haven’t you?” he asked, gesturing to the grand concert hall.

“A few times,” you replied, trying to sound casual. “It’s always… impressive.”

He smiled. “Wait until you hear tonight’s performance. It’s one of my favorites.”

---

Inside, you settled into your seats—side by side, of course. The lights dimmed, and the orchestra began to tune, the hum of violins filling the air. Peter leaned closer, his voice low.

“Do you know this piece?”

You turned to him, surprised by how close he was. “Not really. Should I?”

He chuckled softly. “I think you’ll like it. Very dramatic.”

You nodded, quickly looking back at the stage, but you could feel his eyes on you for a moment longer before he leaned back into his seat.

---

At intermission, you both stood in the crowded foyer, surrounded by elegant couples sipping champagne. Peter handed you a glass, his expression thoughtful.

“So,” he said, “how are you finding it so far? Be honest.”

“It’s… really beautiful,” you admitted, fidgeting with the stem of your glass. “I don’t usually go to things like this, but it’s nice.”

He studied you for a moment, then smiled. “You’ve always been good at appreciating the little things. It’s one of the things I’ve always liked about you.”

You nearly choked on your sip of champagne, glancing up at him in surprise. “Oh. Um… thank you.”

Peter’s smile widened, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “You don’t need to look so startled, Y/N. It’s just a compliment.”

“Right,” you said quickly, cheeks heating up again. “Of course. Thanks.”

He tilted his head slightly, as if trying to figure you out. “You’re adorable when you’re nervous, you know that?”

“I—what?” you stammered, but before you could finish, the bell chimed, signaling the end of intermission.

Peter offered his arm, his tone light but teasing. “Shall we?”

You hesitated for a moment, then looped your arm through his, your heart pounding as you followed him back to your seats.

---

Once the concert was over, Peter led you out of the concert hall, his hand resting lightly at the small of your back. The crowd thinned as the night air hit your face, crisp and cool compared to the warmth inside. His car waited at the curb, sleek and polished, and he opened the door for you without hesitation.

“Still enjoying yourself?” he asked once you were both seated, his tone light.

“Yes,” you replied, glancing at him. “It was… really amazing. Thank you for inviting me.”

He gave a small, thoughtful smile, his hands resting loosely on the steering wheel. “I’m glad you came. I was afraid I’d be sitting through it alone tonight.”

The comment was harmless, but you couldn’t stop yourself from wondering—was that why he hadn’t seemed to mind Olivia’s absence? You pushed the thought aside, unsure what to say, and instead watched the city lights blur through the window.

---

When the car pulled up in front of your apartment building, Peter stepped out quickly, coming around to open your door. You murmured a quiet “thank you” as you stepped out, feeling the weight of his presence beside you. He walked you to the building’s entrance, his movements effortlessly graceful as always.

“You didn’t have to walk me up,” you said softly, fumbling with your keys.

Peter raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his expression. “It’s the gentlemanly thing to do, isn’t it?”

You smiled faintly, unlocking the door and stepping inside with him close behind. The elevator ride was silent, though you caught him glancing at you once or twice. Your heart felt like it was lodged in your throat by the time you reached your floor.

When you reached your apartment door, you turned to face him, unsure how to say goodnight without sounding awkward. Peter beat you to it.

“Tonight was lovely,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “You were good company.”

“Thanks,” you said, heat rushing to your face. “You too.”

There was a beat of silence, and then Peter’s expression softened, his tone casual but warm. “You don’t have to feel obligated to say yes every time Olivia drags you along, you know. I’d hate to think you’re going to these things just because you feel like you should.”

Your chest tightened. Was he saying he thought you didn’t want to be here? That you’d only come because Olivia wasn’t around to take your place? You forced a polite smile, ignoring the strange twist in your stomach.

“I don’t mind,” you said lightly, hoping it sounded convincing. “It’s always nice to catch up.”

Peter smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes this time. “Good. Then… goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight,” you replied softly, watching as he turned and walked back toward the elevator. You stood there for a moment, listening to the faint hum of the elevator descending before you finally stepped inside your apartment and leaned against the door.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, your thoughts spinning. Did you just get friendzoned? You shook your head, groaning under your breath. “Don’t overthink it,” you muttered to yourself, but the knot in your chest didn’t budge.

---

The next morning, Olivia burst into your apartment, barely waiting for you to open the door. “Well? How was it?” she asked, her grin wide as she plopped onto your couch.

You blinked, still holding your mug of coffee. “Uh, it was fine.”

“Fine?” she repeated, narrowing her eyes. “You went to the Philharmonic with Peter Lyman, and all you’ve got for me is ‘fine’? No way. Spill.”

You sighed, setting your mug on the table and sitting down across from her. “It was fine. He was polite, as always, and we had a nice time. But…” You hesitated, staring at your hands.

“But?” Olivia prompted, leaning forward eagerly.

“I think he sees me as, like, your friend who tags along to family stuff. He made some comment about not feeling obligated to go to these things, like I only went because you couldn’t.”

Olivia frowned. “What? That doesn’t sound like Peter.”

“Maybe not, but that’s how it came across,” you said, shrugging. “It’s fine. I didn’t expect anything else.”

She tilted her head, studying you. “You’re not seriously going to let one weird comment freak you out, are you?”

“I’m not freaking out,” you replied quickly, though the heat in your face said otherwise. “I just… I don’t want to make things awkward.”

“Y/N,” Olivia said, crossing her arms. “Peter’s not an idiot. If he said that, he probably didn’t mean it the way you’re taking it.”

You shook your head. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter anyway.”

Olivia rolled her eyes. “You’re hopeless, you know that?”

“Thanks,” you muttered, but she just laughed.

“Don’t worry,” she said, standing up. “If I know Peter, he’ll figure it out eventually.” She paused, giving you a sly grin. “In the meantime, maybe try not to overthink it.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands as she left the room.

---

A week later, you and Olivia had a movie night at your place, and old romcom she loved in the DVD player.

You had your legs tucked under you, barely focusing on the movie before gaining enough courage to face her. “Liv? Do you think… well—you, I got…”

She took her gaze away from the TV. “Hmm. Could be anything that’s got you stuttering like that.” She grabbed your hand, giving it a squeeze. “Okay. Spill.”

You took a deep breath, blurting out, “Joshua asked me on a date.”

Olivia sat up straighter, grabbing the remote and pausing the movie. “Joshua? Like Lord Beckett’s youngest son? That Joshua?”

You squirmed under her gaze. “Yeah. Apparently, he works as a journalist. He came over to the firm and was interviewing my boss.”

Olivia blinked, then leaned back with an exaggerated laugh. “Oh my God, that’s rich. Joshua Beckett, out of nowhere, asking you out?” She shook her head in disbelief. “How’d he even swing that?”

You frowned. “I mean, he was… nice? Polite? We just talked for a bit after his meeting, and then—bam—he asked.”

Olivia smirked. “Did you say yes?”

“Well, yeah. I didn’t want to be rude,” you admitted, your voice shrinking.

She threw a pillow at you. “What the hell, Y/N? This isn’t ‘polite conversation’ territory—it’s a date! You can’t just agree because you don’t want to hurt someone’s feelings.”

“I didn’t know how to say no!” you shot back, clutching the pillow to your chest. “He caught me off guard. And honestly, he seemed… fine?”

“Fine,” Olivia deadpanned. “High praise, as always.”

You sighed. “Look, it’s just one dinner. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Olivia squinted at you like she didn’t buy it for a second. “Right. And this has nothing to do with Peter, huh?”

Your stomach flipped, and you quickly avoided her gaze. “This has nothing to do with Peter.”

“Uh-huh,” Olivia said knowingly. “So, when’s this casual, meaningless dinner happening?”

“Friday,” you mumbled.

“Friday,” she repeated with a hum, then grinned slyly. “Guess who’s getting a phone call.”

You looked at her in alarm. “No! You’re not calling Peter!”

“Oh, I’m not?” she teased, already reaching for her phone.

“Liv, I swear—”

“Relax, I’m kidding!” she said with a laugh, setting her phone aside. “But seriously, Y/N… Joshua? You’re going to have to explain that one to me.”

You groaned, flopping back against the couch. “I don’t know, okay? I panicked. It’s not like Peter’s lining up to ask me out, anyway.”

Olivia’s smirk softened into something more thoughtful. “Peter’s… complicated,” she said after a moment. “But you know he cares about you, right? I mean, he wouldn’t—”

You cut her off, shaking your head. “Let’s not do this. I can’t think about Peter and… whatever this is. Not when I’m already overthinking everything else.”

Olivia hesitated but eventually nodded. “Fine. But for the record, I don’t think you’re overthinking. I think you’re underthinking Peter.”

You groaned again, burying your face in the pillow. “Can we just finish the movie?”

“Sure,” she said, grabbing the remote. But as she pressed play, she muttered under her breath, “You’re totally underthinking it.”

---

Peter glanced at Olivia, who was reclining with a magazine in one hand and a cup of tea in the other, her legs crossed lazily. The faint echoes of splashing water and the quiet hum of conversation filled the air around the indoor pool.

“Perhaps you’d like to come to the garden party Father is throwing on Sunday,” Peter said, his voice casual as he stretched his arms.

Olivia glanced up briefly. “Sure, sounds nice. Is it the usual crowd?”

Peter nodded, stepping to the edge of the pool. “More or less. Family, some of Father’s associates. Nothing too overwhelming.” He paused, his tone shifting just slightly. “Will Y/N be coming?”

Olivia raised an eyebrow, setting down her tea. “Oh, I don’t know. I’ll ask her after her date tonight.”

Peter froze, mid-step, before lowering himself to sit at the pool’s edge. “Date?” His voice was calm, but the word lingered in the air.

“Yeah, with Joshua Beckett,” Olivia said nonchalantly, flipping a page in her magazine. “You know, Lord Beckett’s youngest. He ran into her at work and asked her out. She said yes.”

Peter’s expression didn’t falter, though his fingers tapped lightly against his knee. “Joshua Beckett,” he repeated, as though testing the name on his tongue.

“Mhm,” Olivia said, still focused on her magazine. “Journalist. Apparently, he’s charming. She didn’t seem overly excited, though.”

“Hmm.” Peter slipped into the pool gracefully, the water rippling around him. “Well, good for her. I hope it goes well.”

Olivia glanced at him over the edge of her magazine, a smirk tugging at her lips. “You sound thrilled.”

Peter’s lips twitched in a polite smile, though he avoided her gaze. “Just being supportive.”

Olivia snorted, setting her magazine aside and standing up. “Right. Well, I’m off to the spa. I need a massage after this long week. Don’t drown or anything.”

Peter waved a hand as he began a slow backstroke. “Enjoy your massage.”

“Thanks,” Olivia said breezily, heading for the door. “Oh, and I’ll let you know if Y/N decides to come on Sunday.”

Peter didn’t reply, his focus seemingly on the water, though his strokes became a little sharper, his movements a touch less fluid. When Olivia was gone, he exhaled slowly, staring up at the high ceiling.

“Joshua Beckett,” he muttered to himself, his voice low and contemplative, before diving underwater.

---

You and Olivia walked through the hedges into the garden area, where small tables were set up and people already mingling.

“Do you think they have those finger sandwiches I like?” you asked Olivia, scanning the tables set up around the garden. Your voice was quieter than usual, the low hum of polite chatter filling the air.

“I’m sure they do,” Olivia replied, smirking. “I mean, Peter’s father wouldn’t dare host a garden party without catering to your very specific sandwich preferences, right?”

You rolled your eyes, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “You’re hilarious.”

“Always,” she said, giving you a quick pat on the shoulder before her eyes drifted to the side. “Oh, speaking of Peter—there he is. He looks like he’s on host duty already.”

Before you could turn, Olivia raised a hand, waving him over.

Peter approached with his usual effortless confidence, a light smile on his face. His suit was perfectly tailored—charcoal gray, understated but sharp—and he moved with the ease of someone who had never once felt out of place in a crowd.

“Olivia,” he greeted warmly. “Y/N.” His gaze flicked to you, lingering just a second longer than necessary. “Glad you could both make it.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Olivia said, grinning. “I already saw the sandwiches, by the way. You’ve kept Y/N’s favorites. Excellent hosting.”

Peter chuckled softly. “Of course. Wouldn’t dream of disappointing.” He shifted slightly, his eyes scanning the immediate area. “Where’s she gone?”

Olivia blinked and glanced beside her, only to realize you were no longer there. “Wait, what? She was just—”

Peter raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Impressive. That might be the quickest escape yet.”

“She does that sometimes,” Olivia said, sighing dramatically. “It’s like she’s made of smoke or something. Well, I’m sure she hasn’t gone far. I’ll catch up with her in a bit.”

Peter gave a polite nod, though his gaze was already moving past her, scanning the clusters of guests. “No need. I’ll find her.”

Without waiting for a reply, he turned and disappeared into the garden’s maze of tables and guests.

---

You were standing by one of the smaller tables, a tiny plate in hand, already nibbling on a finger sandwich. You’d ducked out as soon as Peter walked over—not because you didn’t want to talk to him, but because it was always a little overwhelming when he was around. Somehow, he managed to be both incredibly easy to talk to and completely impossible to read at the same time.

The garden was peaceful, at least. You focused on the sounds of the birds and the clinking glasses, taking a moment to settle your nerves.

“Enjoying yourself?”

You jumped slightly at the sound of Peter’s voice, almost dropping your plate. He stood just a few steps away, his hands casually tucked into his pockets.

“I—uh—yes,” you stammered, quickly wiping your mouth with a napkin. “I was just…” You gestured vaguely to the table of food.

“Finding the sandwiches, I see,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Yeah,” you admitted, glancing down at the one in your hand. “They’re really good.”

“I’m glad,” Peter replied, stepping closer. “I’ll have to thank the caterer for getting them just right. Though, knowing you, you probably would’ve just been polite if they weren’t.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his observation. “Well, I mean… it’s not like I’d complain.”

He chuckled, his gaze steady on you. “No, you wouldn’t. But I’m glad they’re up to your standards.”

There was a beat of silence, the kind that felt heavy despite the lightness of the conversation. You fidgeted slightly, unsure what to say, until Peter spoke again.

“Did you enjoy your date?”

Your eyes snapped up to meet his, startled. “What?”

Peter stood much closer than before, his expression casual, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of curiosity. “Your date,” he said smoothly, as if it were the most natural topic in the world. “With Joshua Beckett. Olivia mentioned it.”

You ducked your head, suddenly finding your plate very interesting. “Oh, right. That. It was fine.”

“Fine,” Peter repeated, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Such high praise.”

You looked up, narrowing your eyes slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He tilted his head slightly, his tone light. “Nothing at all. Just… ‘fine’ doesn’t exactly scream thrilling success.”

“Well, it wasn’t a disaster,” you said defensively, clutching your plate tighter. “He was nice.”

“Nice,” Peter echoed, his tone amused. “That’s the second glowing endorsement.”

“Peter,” you sighed, finally meeting his gaze. “What are you getting at?”

He paused, studying you for a moment before responding. “I’m just curious. You don’t usually go out with people like Joshua.”

Your brow furrowed. “People like Joshua? What does that even mean?”

“Well,” he began, his voice as smooth as ever, “he’s the youngest son of a very ambitious family. Polished, charming, likely quite used to getting what he wants.”

“So… people like you,” you countered without thinking, then froze, immediately regretting it. “I mean—uh, not that you—just that—”

Peter laughed softly, the sound low and rich. “Touché.”

You pressed your lips together, looking down at your sandwich. “For the record, he didn’t get what he wanted.”

His brows lifted in mild surprise. “Oh?”

You shifted uncomfortably. “I told him I wasn’t interested in a second date.”

There was a pause, and when you glanced up, Peter’s expression was unreadable. “I see.”

Before you could decipher his tone, he straightened, glancing past you. “Excuse me a moment,” Peter said, his tone as smooth as ever. He stepped around you, heading toward the two new people with an effortless grace.

You turned, following his line of sight. A young woman with straight blonde hair and wiry glasses stood by the tables with an older man wearing a copper blazer.

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his attention. Before you could process it, Olivia appeared at your side, holding a glass of sparkling water.

“Who’s he off to save now?” she asked, smirking as she handed you the glass.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, nodding toward the two strangers. “They just walked in, and he left to meet them.”

Olivia squinted in their direction, taking a sip of her drink. “Hmm. They don’t look like the usual crowd. Maybe business?”

“Could be,” you murmured, watching as Peter shook hands with the older man before gesturing toward the house.

“Should we ask?” Olivia teased, nudging your arm.

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “It’s probably something private. Let’s just stay out of it.”

Olivia grinned knowingly. “Right, because that’s exactly what we’re doing by standing here and staring.”

You sighed, looking away from the scene. “I’m just curious, okay? It’s not like I’m going to eavesdrop.”

“Sure,” Olivia said, clearly unconvinced.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Peter lead the two guests toward the house. His hand rested lightly on the small of the blonde woman’s back as they disappeared into the crowd. You tried not to let it bother you, but Olivia didn’t miss the way your grip on your glass tightened.

“Who’s jealous now?” she muttered under her breath.

“I’m not jealous,” you replied quickly, though your tone betrayed you.

“Uh-huh,” Olivia said, smirking. “Well, if you’re not going to ask, I will.”

Before you could stop her, she turned and started following the trio.

“Olivia, wait—” you called after her, but she waved a hand dismissively over her shoulder.

---

A few minutes later, Olivia reappeared, her expression a mix of curiosity and amusement. She found you lingering near the garden’s edge, nervously sipping your drink.

“So, I have news,” she announced, leaning against a tree.

“Olivia,” you groaned. “What did you do?”

“Relax,” Olivia said with a grin, casually tossing her hair over her shoulder. “I just asked Peter who they were. Turns out, the blonde is Jade Spence—some aspiring actress from Palm Beach—and her father, Mr. Spence. They’re staying with the Fultons.”

You blinked, trying not to let your curiosity show too much. “The Fultons? As in… the Fultons?”

Olivia nodded, her smirk growing. “Yup. And Peter’s apparently been playing tour guide or something. He mentioned meeting her a few days ago.”

You frowned slightly, glancing toward the house where Peter had disappeared with Jade and Mr. Spence. “Tour guide?”

Olivia shrugged, swirling the water in her glass. “Or lifeguard, maybe. He said something about saving her from drowning in the pool.”

Your head whipped around. “What?”

“I know, right? So dramatic,” Olivia said with a laugh. “Apparently, it was this whole thing. She was swimming alone, started panicking, and Peter swooped in like the hero he is.”

You looked down, fiddling with the edge of your plate. “Well, that’s… nice of him.”

“Uh-huh,” Olivia said, giving you a pointed look. “And now he’s escorting her around garden parties. Very hands-on for a guy who’s usually so… you know. Detached.”

Your stomach churned uncomfortably, but you forced a nonchalant tone. “Maybe he’s just being polite. She’s staying with the Fultons, after all.”

“Polite?” Olivia echoed, raising an eyebrow. “Y/N, Peter doesn’t do polite for strangers. He’s always charming, but this is different. He’s… interested.”

You felt your chest tighten, but you quickly shook your head. “It’s probably nothing. She’s just visiting, and he’s being a good host.”

Olivia studied you for a moment, her smirk fading. “You know, you’re allowed to be annoyed.”

“I’m not annoyed,” you said quickly, but your voice wavered just enough for Olivia to catch it.

“Right,” she said, crossing her arms. “Because you’re totally fine with Peter playing Prince Charming for a random blonde from Florida.”

You frowned. “What do you want me to say, Olivia? It’s not like Peter and I—” You cut yourself off, your cheeks burning.

Olivia leaned in, her voice low but teasing. “Not like you what? C’mon, Y/N, finish that sentence.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Forget it.”

“Nope, not forgetting it,” Olivia said, pulling your hands away. “Listen, I’m not saying you need to storm the house and stake a claim or whatever. But if Peter’s trying to make you jealous, it’s working.”

You blinked at her. “You think he’s doing this on purpose?”

"Could be. I mean, Peter’s smart. He knows what he’s doing," Olivia said with a shrug, her eyes glinting mischievously.

You snorted, shaking your head. "That’s ridiculous. Why would he try to make me jealous? He doesn’t even like me like that."

Olivia tilted her head, giving you an exasperated look. "You seriously believe that?"

"Yes," you said firmly, though your voice wavered slightly. "Peter’s always been polite, maybe a little flirty, but that’s just how he is with everyone. He doesn’t—" You stopped yourself, suddenly self-conscious.

"He doesn’t what?" Olivia pressed, leaning closer with that knowing smirk.

You rolled your eyes and sighed. "He doesn’t see me that way, okay? I’m just… his cousin’s friend. The tagalong at family stuff. That’s it."

Olivia’s smirk dropped, replaced by something softer. "Y/N, you’re seriously blind if you don’t think he’s at least interested."

You bit your lip, fidgeting with your drink. "It doesn’t matter. Even if he were—which he’s not—he’s clearly more interested in Jade right now."

Olivia snorted. "Jade Spence? Are you kidding? That’s just Peter being Peter. I bet he swooped in to ‘save’ her and now feels obligated to play the perfect host."

"Or maybe he actually likes her," you muttered, barely audible.

Olivia stared at you for a beat before sighing dramatically. "You’re exhausting, you know that? The guy practically lights up every time you’re in the room, and you’re over here acting like he’s planning a wedding with some random actress from Florida."

You opened your mouth to respond, but Olivia cut you off, pointing her finger at you. "Nope. Don’t even argue. If you’re too stubborn to see it, fine. But mark my words, Y/N—he’s not into Jade. He’s into you."

"That’s insane," you said quickly, brushing past her toward the refreshments table. "You’re reading way too much into this."

"Am I?" Olivia called after you, clearly enjoying herself. "Guess we’ll see."

---

Later that day when you got back to your apartment, you walked over to the rotary phone and dialed the number.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Joshua. I know I said I wasn’t interested in a second date, but—well, if you were, not that you have to…”

You cringed, gripping the phone cord tightly as silence filled the line. Then, Joshua’s warm voice came through, as composed as ever.

“Y/N, hi. I wasn’t expecting this, but… I’d love to. If you’re sure?”

You glanced at the clock on the wall, your stomach twisting with nerves. “Yeah, I mean… I thought maybe I judged too quickly last time. You’re really nice, and it wasn’t fair to just—”

“Don’t overthink it,” Joshua interrupted gently. “How about Friday? Dinner at that Italian place by the park?”

“Sure,” you replied quickly, your voice higher-pitched than usual. “Friday sounds good.”

“Great,” he said, his tone genuinely warm. “I’ll call to confirm. I’m glad you changed your mind, Y/N.”

You hung up, staring at the phone for a moment before groaning. “What am I doing?”

---

By the time Friday rolled around, Olivia had found out about the second date, of course.

“I can’t believe you called him,” she said, draped across your bed as you picked through your closet. “It’s like you’re trying to drive yourself crazy.”

“I didn’t call him to drive myself crazy,” you shot back, holding up a simple black dress. “I called because—”

“Because you were spiraling after seeing Peter with Jade Spence,” Olivia finished smugly.

You turned toward her with a glare. “That’s not why.”

“Right,” she said, sitting up and smirking. “So why is it, then?”

You hesitated, biting your lip. “Maybe I just don’t want to waste a chance with someone who’s nice to me.”

Olivia snorted. “Nice? Joshua Beckett is nice? That’s the bar now?”

You sighed, tossing the dress on the bed. “He’s not just nice. He’s smart, and he listens, and—”

“And he’s not Peter,” Olivia interrupted, raising an eyebrow.

“Liv,” you groaned.

“Okay, okay,” she said, holding her hands up in mock surrender. “Wear the black dress. He’ll like it. Or whatever.”

---

While you went on your date with Joshua, Olivia went to the party Peter was hosting at his place. When she entered, Peter looked at the door and grabbed two glasses of champagne. “Ah, Olivia.” They kissed each other’s cheeks as a greeting. The door closed behind her causing Peter to glance over at the now shut door. “Where is Y/N? She’s not sick again, is she?”

Olivia shrugged off her coat handing it to the waiter with a thanks. “Oh, no. She’s on a date with Joshua.” She grabbed both glasses from Peter’s hands, one clearly meant for you.

Peter’s expression didn’t change immediately, but his fingers tightened into a momentary fist. “Joshua,” he said slowly, his tone neutral. “I see.”

Olivia sipped from one of the glasses she’d swiped, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “Yup. Second date. She called him, actually. Kind of a bold move for Y/N, don’t you think?”

“Very bold,” Peter replied, his voice calm but clipped. “I thought she wasn’t interested.”

Olivia shrugged, her lips curling into a sly smile. “She changed her mind. Or maybe someone made her change her mind.”

Peter’s gaze flicked toward her, sharp as glass. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing,” Olivia said innocently, taking another sip. “Just that she seemed a little… distracted after your garden party. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

“Of course not,” Peter said smoothly, though there was a flicker of something in his eyes. “I didn’t realize I had such influence over her decision-making.”

Olivia tilted her head, studying him. “You know, for someone who’s supposedly indifferent, you seem awfully interested in her dating life.”

Peter’s jaw tightened imperceptibly. “She’s your friend. Naturally, I’m curious.”

“Right,” Olivia drawled, clearly enjoying herself. “Well, if you’re so curious, maybe you should ask her about it. Or better yet, tell her why it bothers you so much.”

“It doesn’t bother me,” Peter said, his tone cool. “She’s free to make her own choices.”

“Uh-huh,” Olivia replied, giving him a knowing look. “So, you’re totally fine with her going out with a guy like Joshua Beckett? Polished, ambitious, very… not you?”

Peter’s lips curved into a faint, humorless smile. “What an interesting way to phrase it.”

“Just calling it like I see it,” Olivia said lightly. She leaned closer, lowering her voice. “You know, Peter, you could just admit you like her. Might save everyone a lot of time.”

Peter didn’t answer immediately, his gaze drifting toward the door. “I think I’ll fetch another drink,” he said finally. “Excuse me.”

“Running away?” Olivia teased, but Peter was already walking off, his steps measured and deliberate.

---

“He was actually quite nice. And he likes math and sci-fi movies,” you said, plopping down onto Olivia’s couch.

Olivia leaned against the armrest, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Math and sci-fi movies? Be still my heart. Did he also show you his extensive collection of pocket protectors?”

You frowned, tossing a throw pillow at her. “I’m serious! He’s smart, and… I don’t know, easy to talk to.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, dodging the pillow effortlessly. “And yet, here you are, talking to me about him like he’s your neighbor’s golden retriever. You’re trying too hard to sell it, Y/N.”

“I’m not trying to sell anything,” you muttered, crossing your arms. “It was a nice date. That’s it.”

Olivia raised an eyebrow. “Did you agree to another one?”

You hesitated, fiddling with the hem of your sweater. “He asked. I said I’d think about it.”

“There it is,” Olivia said, sitting up straight. “You’re not even sure, are you?”

“It’s not like that,” you protested weakly.

“It’s exactly like that,” she shot back. “You’re trying to convince yourself he’s interesting because—oh, let me guess—Peter has you in knots.”

You sighed heavily, rubbing your temples. “Why does everything always come back to Peter with you?”

“Because you get weird whenever he’s involved!” Olivia said, throwing her hands up. “Seriously, you were fine until Jade Spence showed up with her Barbie vibes, and now you’re spiraling.”

“I am not spiraling,” you said firmly.

“Oh, please,” Olivia scoffed. “You practically ran to Joshua the second you saw Peter being nice to her. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

You glared at her. “Maybe I just wanted to see if there was something there with Joshua.”

“And?” she challenged.

You hesitated, biting your lip. “…And I don’t know.”

Olivia sighed, leaning back into the couch cushions. “Y/N, listen to me. You can go on a hundred dates with guys like Joshua, but it’s not going to change how you feel about Peter.”

“I don’t—”

“Don’t even try,” she interrupted, holding up a hand. “You do. And it’s painfully obvious to anyone with eyes. So, instead of wasting your time on Mr. Math Enthusiast, maybe you should figure out what’s actually going on with Peter.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the sound of the doorbell ringing cut you off. You looked at Olivia who looked at you.

“What are you doing? Go answer it.” Olivia said.

“What—but this is your apartment!” You argued.

Olivia pushed your side, “go on!”

You stood up and made it past her before turning around. “Peter’s not at the door is he?” She shrugged, not responding. “Olivia! You—”

The doorbell rang again, pulling you out of your thoughts. Olivia waved her hand toward the door, not bothering to look away from the TV. “Go already! It’s not going to answer itself.”

Muttering under your breath, you shuffled toward the door, half-wondering why Olivia wasn’t doing this herself. You swung it open, and there he was—standing impeccably dressed in a casual button-up and dark slacks, as if he’d stepped straight out of a magazine.

“Peter?” you blurted, gripping the doorknob a little tighter than necessary. “What are you doing here?”

He offered you a polite smile, holding up a small clutch. “Olivia left this behind at the party. I thought I’d return it before it got lost in the shuffle.”

You blinked, glancing at the bag in his hand. “Oh. Right. Well, thanks for bringing it by.”

“Of course.” His voice was smooth as always, but his eyes flicked past you into the apartment. “Is Olivia in?”

“Yeah, she’s—”

“Watching TV!” Olivia called from the couch. “Bring it here, Peter. And while you’re at it, grab me a soda, would you?”

You shot her a glare over your shoulder, but Peter chuckled softly. “Should I let myself in, or…?”

“Oh, come in,” Olivia said loudly. “Y/N doesn’t bite.”

Peter stepped past you with an easy smile, and you resisted the urge to retreat to the kitchen. Instead, you followed him into the living room, your stomach doing a weird little flip as he handed Olivia the clutch.

“Your soda,” he said with a smirk, “you’ll have to get yourself.”

“Ugh, useless,” Olivia teased, but she took the bag with a grin. “Thanks, though. I’d have never remembered it.”

Peter turned back to you, his expression unreadable. “So, Y/N. How was dinner with Joshua?”

Your cheeks burned immediately. “Oh, um, it was… fine.”

“Fine,” he repeated, the faintest hint of amusement in his tone. “You use that word a lot.”

“Well, it’s a good word,” you muttered, crossing your arms.

Peter didn’t look away, his gaze steady. “I take it things went well, then?”

Before you could answer, Olivia snorted. “She’s not seeing him again, if that’s what you’re fishing for.”

“Olivia!” you hissed, glaring at her.

“What?” she said, feigning innocence. “I’m just saving time.”

Peter’s brow lifted slightly, though his expression remained calm. “Not seeing him again?” he asked, directing the question to you. “That’s surprising. He seemed like a… suitable match.”

You frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Peter tilted his head, his lips curving into a faint smile. “Only that he seemed like someone who’d check all the right boxes.”

“Well, maybe I’m not interested in someone who just checks boxes,” you said before you could stop yourself.

Peter’s smile deepened, his eyes glinting with something unreadable. “Interesting.”

The silence stretched, thick with unspoken things, until Olivia cleared her throat dramatically. “Well, this is fun, but if no one’s grabbing me a soda, I’ll do it myself.”

She hopped off the couch, leaving you alone with Peter. You shifted awkwardly, clutching your arms. “So… thanks for bringing her bag by.”

“It was no trouble,” Peter said, his voice gentler now. “I could’ve had it sent over, but I thought it’d be nice to see you both.”

You hesitated, biting your lip. “Right. Well… it’s good to see you too.”

He stepped closer, his voice dropping just slightly. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

Your eyes widened. “What? I haven’t—”

“You disappeared at the garden party,” he interrupted, his tone calm but firm. “And you weren’t at my party yesterday.”

You looked down, heat creeping up your neck. “I wasn’t avoiding you. I just… had other things going on.”

“Like Joshua?” he asked, his voice sharp enough to make you flinch.

You glanced up, meeting his gaze. “Why does it matter?”

He held your gaze, his expression softening. “Maybe it doesn’t.”

The sound of the fridge door slamming broke the moment, and Olivia reappeared with a soda in hand. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No,” you said quickly, stepping back. “Peter was just leaving.”

Peter’s lips twitched into a small smile, but he didn’t argue. “I should be going. Thank you, Olivia.”

“Anytime,” she replied, smirking. “Bye, Peter.”

He turned to you one last time, his eyes lingering for a moment. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight,” you whispered, watching as he left.

Once the door shut, Olivia let out a low whistle. “Well, that was something.”

“Don’t,” you warned, already heading for the kitchen.

“I didn’t say anything!” Olivia called after you, her voice full of laughter. “But seriously, Y/N, you might want to think about what you’re doing.”

You groaned, opening the fridge. “What I’m doing is making tea.”

“Sure,” Olivia said lightly. “Because tea will totally solve your Peter problem.”

You slammed the fridge door shut, wishing it were that simple.

---

Joshua invited you over to a philharmonic concert. He had brought it up while he had taken you out for lunch during your break.

You accepted and now were walking through the elegant, familiar foyer of the concert hall, arm in arm with Joshua. The polished marble floors reflected the soft glow of the chandeliers, and the hum of polite conversation filled the air.

Joshua glanced at you, his smile easy. “You’ve been here before, haven’t you? You seem comfortable.”

“Once or twice,” you replied, trying not to think about the last time. With Peter.

“Ah, of course,” Joshua said lightly. “It’s one of my favorite venues. The acoustics are exceptional.”

As he spoke, your eyes caught a familiar figure just across the room. Peter. He was standing near the staircase, chatting with Jade Spence, who laughed at something he said, her hand briefly touching his arm.

You stiffened, and Joshua followed your gaze. His brow lifted slightly. “Peter Lyman. What a surprise. Didn’t expect to see him here tonight.”

Your voice was tight. “He enjoys the Philharmonic.”

Joshua chuckled softly. “Don’t we all? Come on, let’s say hello.”

“Wait—” you started, but Joshua was already steering you toward them.

Peter noticed you first. His eyes flickered from Joshua to you, his expression unreadable, though there was a subtle shift in his posture. Jade turned as well, her bright smile widening when she saw Joshua.

“Joshua Beckett,” Peter greeted smoothly, his voice carrying that effortless charm. “Good to see you.”

“Peter,” Joshua replied, shaking his hand. “And Jade Spence, of course. I heard you were in town.”

Jade’s laugh was nervous. “Uh—yes, with my father.” Her gaze shifted to you, her smile polite but curious. “And you are?”

“Y/N,” you said softly, glancing at Peter briefly. His gaze was steady, focused, and unsettlingly intense.

“Ah, yes,” Jade said, her tone light. “I think Peter mentioned you.”

Your stomach flipped at that, but Joshua cut in before you could dwell on it. “Y/N is a dear friend. We’re enjoying the evening together.”

Peter’s jaw tightened, though his smile didn’t falter. “How lovely. I’m sure you’ll both enjoy the program tonight. It’s one of my favorites.”

“You’ve got great taste, as always,” Joshua replied smoothly, before glancing at his watch. “We should find our seats, Y/N. Don’t want to miss the overture.”

“Of course,” you said quickly, eager to leave the tension hanging in the air.

“Enjoy the performance,” Peter said, his eyes lingering on you as Joshua led you away. You didn’t dare look back.

---

Your seats were directly in front of Peter and Jade. As the orchestra began, you focused on the stage, but you could feel Peter’s gaze like a weight on your back. Joshua leaned closer to point out something about the composer, his voice low and warm, but you barely heard him.

Peter, meanwhile, wasn’t paying attention to the orchestra at all. His eyes never left you, the flicker of a frown crossing his face whenever Joshua leaned in or made you smile.

Jade noticed. She shifted slightly in her seat, her voice a soft whisper. “Peter, you’re not even looking at the stage.”

He didn’t respond immediately, his eyes still locked on you. Finally, he leaned back, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Just admiring the company,” he said smoothly.

Jade glanced at you and Joshua, then back at Peter. Her brow arched, but she said nothing, returning her attention to the performance.

---

At intermission, you stayed in your seat, flipping through the concert program and trying to focus on the upcoming pieces. Joshua had gone to grab drinks, leaving you alone in the steadily emptying hall. The chatter of other patrons filled the space, but you tuned it out.

The soft creak of the seat next to you folding down made you glance up. Peter.

He sat with effortless ease, one leg crossed over the other, his hands resting on the arms of the chair. “You always were the studious type, weren’t you?” His voice was smooth, teasing but gentle.

You blinked, glancing between him and the program in your hands. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s intermission,” he replied simply, his gaze steady. “Thought I’d say hello. Is that a problem?”

“No,” you said quickly, shifting slightly in your seat. “It’s just… unexpected.”

Peter smirked faintly. “I’ve been told I’m full of surprises.” He leaned back slightly, his tone casual. “You know, this concert reminds me of when Olivia insisted you both take violin lessons. What were you—ten? Eleven?”

You stared at him, caught off guard by the memory. “I was ten. Olivia was eleven.”

He nodded, his smile growing. “Right. And she quit after one session, didn’t she? Said something about the teacher being ‘a tyrant in a cardigan.’”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly. “She hated it. And she convinced her parents it was pointless for both of us to continue, even though I wanted to keep going.”

Peter’s eyes softened. “I remember. You were disappointed for weeks.”

You glanced down at the program, your voice quieter now. “I didn’t think anyone noticed.”

“I noticed,” Peter said, his tone gentler. “You have this way of hiding how you feel, but it’s always there if you know where to look.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but before you could respond, Peter glanced toward the aisle. “Here comes your date.”

You followed his gaze and spotted Joshua making his way back, carrying two glasses of wine. Peter stood smoothly, his polite smile firmly back in place.

“Enjoy the rest of the concert,” he said, his tone light as he stepped aside to let Joshua pass.

Joshua handed you one of the glasses, glancing at Peter as he moved back toward his own seat. “What was that about?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly, taking a sip of your wine. “He was just saying hello.”

Joshua nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. “You and Peter are close, aren’t you?”

You hesitated. “I guess. We’ve known each other a long time.”

“Hmm,” Joshua murmured, his gaze flicking briefly toward Peter and Jade, who were chatting again near the back of the hall. “He seems… invested.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked, your voice defensive.

Joshua shrugged, a faint smile on his lips. “Just an observation.”

The bell chimed, signaling the end of intermission. You followed Joshua back to your seats, settling in as the lights dimmed.

As the orchestra began, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. You didn’t dare glance back, but you could feel Peter’s gaze like a tangible weight.

Joshua leaned closer, pointing out something in the performance. You nodded along, but your focus was elsewhere.

Behind you, Peter sat beside Jade, his expression unreadable as his eyes lingered on you. Jade noticed, her voice barely a whisper. “Peter, you’re missing the performance.”

“I’m not,” he murmured, though his gaze remained fixed on you.

Jade sighed softly but didn’t press further, turning her attention back to the stage.

You, meanwhile, tried to ignore the tension coiling in your chest, the strange awareness that had followed you since intermission.

The music swelled, filling the hall, but all you could think about was the man sitting just a few rows behind you.

---

“He what?” Olivia shrieked. “Oh, man. He’s relentless.”

“What do you mean ‘relentless?’” you said, crossing your arms and leaning against Olivia’s kitchen counter. “He’s the one who’s dating Jade in the first place.”

Olivia froze mid-sip of her tea, her eyebrows shooting up. Slowly, she set the mug down and turned to face you fully, her lips curling into a sly grin. “Ohhh, so now you admit it.”

“Admit what?” you asked, avoiding her gaze.

“That you care,” Olivia said, smirking. “Because last I checked, you were all ‘Peter’s not into me,’ and ‘Jade Spence is just a guest,’ blah, blah, blah.”

You scoffed, pushing off the counter. “That’s not what this is about. I just think it’s ridiculous you’re calling him relentless when he’s clearly moved on.”

Olivia gasped, clutching her chest dramatically. “Moved on? From what, exactly? Because to move on, you’d have to have been on something in the first place. And as far as I know, nothing’s ever happened between you two.”

“Exactly,” you said quickly, throwing your hands up. “So what’s the point?”

“The point,” Olivia said, stepping closer and poking your shoulder, “is that you’re jealous.”

You rolled your eyes, though your cheeks were starting to burn. “I’m not jealous.”

“Really?” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Because you literally just said, ‘he’s the one who’s dating Jade in the first place.’ That’s got ‘green-eyed monster’ written all over it.”

“That’s not—” you started, but Olivia cut you off.

“Y/N, come on,” she said, her tone softer now. “You’ve been acting weird ever since Jade showed up. You’re suddenly going out with Joshua, of all people, and now you’re watching Peter like a hawk every time he’s in the same room.”

“I’m not—” you tried again, but Olivia just kept going.

“And don’t even get me started on the way you probably looked at him during the concert,” she said, crossing her arms. “You might as well have had a flashing sign over your head that said, ‘I wish I was sitting next to him.’”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “You’re reading way too much into this.”

“Am I?” Olivia said, leaning closer. “Because from where I’m standing, it’s pretty obvious. You like Peter. And whether you want to admit it or not, him hanging out with Jade is driving you nuts.”

You didn’t respond right away, staring at the floor as Olivia’s words sank in. Finally, you muttered, “It doesn’t matter. He’s with her. End of story.”

“Y/N,” Olivia said, exasperated. “You don’t get it, do you? He’s not with her. He’s using her.”

Your head snapped up, your eyes narrowing. “That’s a terrible thing to say. Peter’s not like that.”

“Oh, please,” Olivia said, rolling her eyes. “Peter’s a lot of things, but subtle isn’t one of them. He’s parading Jade around because he’s trying to get a reaction out of you.”

“That’s insane,” you said, shaking your head. “Why would he—”

“Because he likes you, you idiot!” Olivia practically shouted, throwing her hands up. “And he doesn’t know how to deal with it because you’ve been so busy convincing yourself he doesn’t!”

You stared at her, stunned into silence. For a moment, the only sound in the room was the faint ticking of the clock on the wall.

Finally, you found your voice. “If that’s true,” you said quietly, “then why hasn’t he said anything?”

Olivia sighed, her expression softening. “Because he’s Peter. He’s not going to lay it all out there unless he’s sure it’s what you want too.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat. Deep down, a small part of you wondered if Olivia was right—if Peter’s actions, his lingering looks, and his sudden attention to Jade were all because of you. But another part of you was too afraid to believe it.

“Well?” Olivia said, raising an eyebrow. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Olivia smirked, leaning back against the counter. “Well, you’d better figure it out. Because if you don’t, someone else is going to make the first move. And I don’t think you’ll like how that turns out.”

You swallowed hard, her words echoing in your mind as you stared out the window, unsure of what your next step should be.

---

The party at Baron Edward’s estate was in full swing, and you found yourself clinging to the edge of the crowd, sipping something sparkling and pretending to look interested in the artwork on the walls. Joshua was mingling effortlessly, charming guests with his smooth conversation and quick wit. Olivia had disappeared somewhere, likely causing her usual brand of chaos.

Across the room, Peter was standing near Jade, the two of them engaged in polite conversation with a small group. He looked as polished as ever, his tailored suit sharp against the warm glow of the chandeliers. You noticed his hand resting lightly on the back of Jade’s chair, and for reasons you didn’t want to unpack, it sent a pang through your chest.

Joshua reappeared at your side, offering you a warm smile. "What do you say, Y/N? Care to join me for a dance?"

You felt your cheeks heat up instantly, your fingers tightening on the glass of champagne you’d been nursing for the past half hour. "Oh, um… I don’t really think I’m—"

He gave you an easy smile, his hand already half-extended. "You’ll be fine. I promise not to step on your toes."

You shook your head quickly, the thought of dozens of pairs of eyes on you making your chest tighten. "I think I’ll sit this one out. Sorry."

Joshua tilted his head slightly, studying you for a moment before nodding. "No need to apologize. Maybe next time." He glanced around and spotted Olivia chatting with a group near the drinks table. "Mind if I steal your friend, then?"

"Not at all," you said quickly, grateful he didn’t press the issue.

Joshua smiled, gave you a small nod, and headed off toward Olivia, who didn’t hesitate to accept his offer. You watched as they made their way to the dance floor, Olivia laughing at something Joshua said as he spun her gracefully into the music.

"You could’ve at least warned him you were a terrible dancer."

The low, familiar voice sent a shiver down your spine. You turned to find Peter standing beside you, one hand tucked casually in the pocket of his perfectly tailored suit. His gaze was sharp but amused, his lips curved in a faint smile.

"I didn’t think it was necessary," you muttered, looking down at your glass.

Peter tilted his head, his tone light. "And here I thought you were just trying to keep him from getting too attached."

Your head shot up, your eyes narrowing. "That’s not—"

He chuckled softly, cutting you off. "Relax, Y/N. I’m joking. Though I have to say, I’m a little surprised. You used to love dancing when we were younger."

You frowned, crossing your arms. "That was different. We were kids, and no one was paying attention back then."

Peter’s smile deepened, his gaze unwavering. "And now?"

"Now," you said quickly, "it’s just… not my thing."

"Hmm," he mused, his tone carrying that infuriating mix of charm and challenge. "I don’t believe you."

You raised an eyebrow, trying to mask your growing discomfort. "Well, you don’t have to."

Peter didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he extended a hand toward you, his eyes meeting yours with quiet intensity. "Dance with me."

"What?" you blurted, your heart skipping a beat.

"You heard me," he said, his voice steady. "Dance with me. Just one song."

"I—I can’t," you stammered, glancing around nervously. "Not here."

Peter’s smile shifted, softer now but no less insistent. Without waiting for an answer, he took your glass from your hand, setting it down on a nearby table, and offered his arm. "Then let’s find somewhere quieter."

You hesitated, glancing toward the dance floor where Olivia and Joshua were spinning effortlessly among the other couples. "Peter, I don’t think—"

"Trust me," he interrupted gently.

Before you could protest, he guided you out of the main ballroom and into a dimly lit hallway just off to the side. The music followed faintly, softer now, the sounds of laughter and conversation fading into the background.

Peter stopped near a small alcove, his hand still lightly resting on your arm. "Better?"

You nodded, though your heart was still racing. "A little."

"Good," he said, stepping closer. He took your hand in his, his touch warm and steady. "Now, let’s try this again."

"Peter, I’m going to embarrass myself," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

"You won’t," he said firmly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. "It’s just us, Y/N. No one’s watching."

You hesitated, but the way he looked at you—patient, encouraging, and far too confident—made it impossible to say no.

"Okay," you murmured, your voice so soft you weren’t sure he even heard you.

Peter smiled, a genuine one this time, and placed your other hand lightly on his shoulder. His hand settled on your waist, the touch sending a strange flutter through your chest.

"See?" he said, his voice low as he guided you into a slow, swaying rhythm. "Nothing to it."

"I feel ridiculous," you admitted, glancing at your feet to make sure you weren’t stepping on him.

"Don’t," Peter said softly. "You’re doing fine."

You glanced up at him, his face closer than you’d realized. His expression was calm, but his eyes… there was something in them you couldn’t quite name.

The faint strains of the orchestra drifted through the hallway, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the world had fallen away.

"You’re not bad at this," Peter said after a while, his tone teasing.

You rolled your eyes, though a small smile crept onto your lips. "You’re a very biased judge."

"Maybe," he admitted, his lips twitching into a smirk. "But I’m right, aren’t I?"

You didn’t answer, your gaze dropping to his collar instead. His tie was slightly loosened, just enough to make him look effortlessly disheveled in a way that only Peter could manage.

"Y/N," he said softly, drawing your attention back to his face. His smile had faded, replaced by something quieter, more serious.

"Yes?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He hesitated, his hand tightening slightly on your waist. "Why do you let him distract you?"

"Who?" you asked, confused.

"Joshua," Peter said simply, his tone calm but pointed. "You’re not interested in him."

You froze, your cheeks burning. "That’s not—"

"You don’t have to explain," he interrupted, his voice low. "I just… I don’t understand why you’re pretending."

Your chest tightened, his words cutting far closer to the truth than you wanted to admit. "I’m not pretending."

Peter’s eyes searched yours, his expression softening. "You don’t have to, Y/N. Not with me."

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the distant sound of the music filling the silence.

"I…" you started, but the words wouldn’t come.

Peter leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Think about it, Y/N. That’s all I’m asking."

You couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, as his words settled in the air between you. And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the moment was gone.

Peter stepped back, his hand slipping from your waist. "Thank you for the dance."

You nodded mutely, watching as he turned and walked away, his footsteps fading down the hall.

Your heart was still racing, and as the music swelled again, you couldn’t shake the feeling that everything had just changed.

---

A few days after the party you were laying on Olivia’s couch, a box of tissues in your lap and a cool rag on your forehead.

“Oh, sweetie.” Olivia cooed, taking the rag away from you.

“’M not a baby,” you muttered, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself as Olivia dabbed your forehead with the cool rag.

“I know,” she teased, sitting back on the edge of the coffee table. “But you’re my favorite patient, so deal with it.” You gave her a weak glare, which she met with a smirk. “Honestly, Y/N, you’re lucky I love you. I’ve got work in a bit, and instead of doing literally anything else, I’m here playing Florence Nightingale.”

“Don’t let me keep you,” you replied, your voice hoarse. “I’ll leave when you do. I’ll get a cab back to my place.”

Olivia frowned, crossing her arms. “You’re really going to haul yourself into a cab like this? You can just stay here.”

You shook your head, coughing lightly into a tissue. “I’ll be fine. I don’t want to be in your way.”

“Like you could ever be in my way,” Olivia scoffed, standing and smoothing her blouse. “Alright, if you insist on being stubborn, I’ll drop you at the cab stand on my way out.”

She disappeared down the hall to finish getting ready, and you closed your eyes, trying to focus on the sound of the TV in the background instead of the pounding in your head.

A few minutes later, the doorbell rang. You heard Olivia’s muffled footsteps and then the sound of the door opening.

“Oh, Peter,” Olivia said, her voice laced with mild surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“I was in the neighborhood,” Peter replied smoothly. “Thought I’d check in.”

“Well, I’m heading to work in a minute,” Olivia said, her voice casual. “But Y/N’s in the living room. She’s not feeling great, though, so don’t expect sparkling conversation.”

There was a pause, and then you heard Peter’s footsteps approaching. You opened your eyes just as he entered the room, his expression softening when he saw you curled up on the couch.

“You look dreadful,” he said, his tone gentle but teasing.

“Thanks,” you croaked, giving him a weak smile.

He chuckled, crouching down so you were eye level. “What’s the plan? Olivia mentioned a cab.”

You nodded. “When she leaves, I’ll call one and head home.”

Peter frowned slightly, standing and crossing his arms. “No, you won’t.”

“Excuse me?” you said, sitting up a little.

“You’re not well,” he said firmly. “I’ll take you home.”

“Peter, that’s not necessary—”

“It is,” he interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I don’t trust you to actually rest if you’re left to your own devices. Come on, let’s get you sorted.”

Olivia reappeared, shrugging into her coat and raising an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”

“Change of plans,” Peter said, offering you a hand. “I’m taking her home.”

You hesitated, glancing between them, but Olivia grinned. “Well, aren’t you sweet? Take good care of her, Peter. She’s a nightmare when she’s sick.”

“Noted,” Peter replied, helping you stand. “Let’s go, Y/N.”

---

The drive to your apartment was quiet. You leaned against the cool window, trying to ignore how warm your cheeks felt—not just from the fever, but from Peter’s presence.

When you reached your building, Peter insisted on helping you out of the car and up the stairs, his hand resting lightly on your back as you walked.

“You really don’t have to—”

“Y/N,” he said, cutting you off as he opened your apartment door with the spare key Olivia had borrowed and returned. “Let me help. You’re not going to convince me otherwise.”

Once inside, he guided you to the couch, setting your blanket over you and grabbing a pillow to tuck behind your head.

“Comfy?” he asked, his voice softer now.

You nodded, already feeling more at ease. “Thank you.”

Peter smiled faintly. “Don’t thank me yet. I haven’t even started making tea.”

“You’re staying?” you asked, your eyes widening slightly.

“Of course,” he said lightly, already heading toward the kitchen. “Someone has to make sure you don’t keel over.”

“Peter, I can take care of myself,” you called after him, though the argument sounded weak even to your own ears.

“I’m sure you can,” he replied, his voice teasing. “But humor me.”

You sighed, leaning back into the cushions. As much as you hated to admit it, having him there was… comforting.

“Do you even know where I keep the tea?” you called, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

“I’m resourceful,” he shot back, and you could hear the sound of cabinets opening and closing.

Shaking your head, you closed your eyes, letting the quiet sounds of him moving around your kitchen fill the air.

Peter returned from the kitchen a few minutes later, carrying a mug of tea. He crouched beside the couch, offering it to you with a soft smile. “Here. Drink this.”

You blinked at him, your fingers curling around the warm mug. “You really didn’t have to.”

He leaned an arm on the edge of the couch, his face a bit closer now. “I know. But I wanted to.”

You swallowed, unsure how to respond, so you took a small sip of the tea instead. The warmth spread through your chest, soothing in a way you hadn’t expected.

“Good?” he asked, watching you intently.

You nodded, your voice soft. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

He smiled, his eyes flickering to your hair. Without saying anything, he reached up, brushing a stray strand away from your face. The motion was so casual, yet it sent a flutter through your chest.

“You’re burning up,” Peter said quietly, his hand lingering near your cheek before he pressed it lightly against your forehead. “When’s the last time you took anything for the fever?”

You squirmed under his touch, your cheeks growing warmer—not from the fever, you were sure. “Uh… this morning, I think?”

Peter frowned slightly, standing up and moving toward the kitchen again. “Stay put. I’ll grab something for you.”

You watched him go, your heart thumping unreasonably loud in your chest. He was being nice—nicer than he needed to be—but you chalked it up to Peter just being… Peter. Charming. Polished. Practically perfect. And completely out of your league.

He returned a minute later with a small glass of water and some medicine, handing both to you while placing the mug on the coffee table. “Take these.”

You hesitated but followed his instructions, swallowing the pills quickly and handing the glass back. He set it on the side table before sitting on the edge of the coffee table again, his gaze never leaving your face.

“Better?” he asked.

“Not yet,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I will be. Thanks for… you know. Helping.”

Peter tilted his head, his lips curving into a faint smile. “I’d hardly call this helping. It’s just making sure you’re not miserable on your own.”

You managed a small smile, sinking further into the couch. “Still. Thank you.”

He didn’t reply immediately, his gaze softening. He reached out again, his hand brushing lightly over your forehead as if checking your temperature once more. “You should try to sleep,” he murmured, his tone unusually gentle. “I’ll stay here.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you mumbled, already feeling your eyelids grow heavy.

“I know,” he said softly. “But I want to.”

You didn’t have the energy to argue, letting your head rest against the pillow. Peter adjusted the blanket around your shoulders, his movements careful and deliberate.

Just as you began to drift off, you felt something—a feather-light brush against your forehead. Too tired to open your eyes, you assumed it was nothing, just a fever-dream detail slipping through.

But Peter sat back quietly, his expression unreadable as he watched you settle deeper into sleep. His hand rested on the edge of the couch for a moment longer before he stood, adjusting the light in the room to something softer.

For now, he would wait.

---

When you woke, you weren’t on the couch anymore. Instead, you were tucked into your bed, your blanket pulled up to your shoulders. The soft hum of an old humidifier filled the room, a faint stream of vapor rising from its spout.

You blinked groggily, your gaze settling on the chair near your bed. Peter was there, his jacket draped over the back of the chair and his shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows. He had a book open in his lap but wasn’t reading; his eyes were fixed on you.

“You’re awake,” he said softly, closing the book and setting it aside. “How do you feel?”

“Better,” you mumbled, still half-asleep. “Did you…?”

“Carry you to bed?” he finished, his lips curving into a faint smile. “You were out cold, Y/N. I didn’t think you’d make it to the bed.”

Your cheeks warmed, and you glanced down at the blanket. “You didn’t have to.”

Peter leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You said that already. And I’m still ignoring it.”

You fiddled with the edge of the blanket, unsure of what to say. “Thanks,” you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he replied, his voice low. “I wanted to.”

You glanced at him, your heart skipping a beat at the way his eyes softened when they met yours. He reached over, brushing a hand lightly across your forehead. His touch was warm, lingering just a second longer than necessary.

“Your fever’s down,” he murmured. “That’s good.”

You nodded, too shy to meet his gaze for long. “How long have you been here?”

“Long enough,” he said lightly, leaning back in the chair. “Olivia called to check in. I told her you were still alive.”

You huffed out a quiet laugh. “She’ll probably tell everyone I’m being dramatic.”

“She might,” Peter said with a faint smirk. “But I’ll set the record straight. Tell them you were very brave.”

“Stop,” you mumbled, pulling the blanket up to your face to hide your smile.

Peter chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Fine. I’ll spare you the teasing. For now.”

You peeked over the blanket, catching his grin. “I didn’t know you were such a good nurse.”

“I’m full of surprises,” he said smoothly, standing up and stretching. “Do you need anything? More water? Tea?”

“No, I’m okay,” you said quickly, though your voice came out quieter than you intended.

Peter crossed his arms, studying you for a moment. Then, without a word, he stepped closer, adjusting the blanket around your shoulders. His hand brushed yours briefly, and you swore your heart skipped a beat.

“Comfortable?” he asked, his voice softer now.

You nodded, unable to meet his gaze. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Peter didn’t move right away. His hand rested lightly on the edge of the bed, and you could feel the weight of his presence. Finally, he straightened, his expression unreadable.

“Try to rest,” he said, his tone gentler than before. “I’ll be in the other room if you need me.”

“Wait,” you blurted, surprising yourself. When he turned back to you, eyebrows raised, you faltered. “I mean… you don’t have to stay in the other room. If you’re tired or something, you can… I don’t know, sit here? If you want?”

Peter’s lips twitched into a small smile, his gaze softening. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to bother you.”

“You’re not bothering me,” you said quickly, then immediately looked down, your cheeks burning. “I just… I don’t mind.”

He hesitated for only a moment before pulling the chair closer to the bed. “Alright,” he said simply, settling back into it. “If you insist.”

You relaxed a little, letting your eyes close again. Peter didn’t say anything else, and for a while, the only sounds in the room were the quiet hum of the humidifier and the soft rustle of pages as he reopened his book.

Before you drifted off, you felt the edge of the blanket shift slightly, as though he were tucking it in more securely. It was such a small gesture, but it left your heart fluttering in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

---

As you cleaned up your spreadsheet a knock on your office door drew your attention away from your computer.

“Someone’s here to see you. A… Peter?” Alyssa said.

You rolled your chair back a little before standing up, “Peter?” You repeated. “Oh—uh, yeah, send him in.”

Alyssa smiled and went back to the reception desk. You sat back down just as Peter knocked a few times on your open door before entering, a brown paper bag in his hand.

“Good afternoon,” he said smoothly, stepping inside like he owned the place. “Thought I’d stop by and see how my favorite accountant was doing.”

You blinked, immediately flustered. “Peter, what are you doing here?”

He held up the bag with a small smile. “I remembered you’re terrible about taking lunch breaks, so I thought I’d bring it to you.”

Your cheeks warmed as you glanced at the bag. “You didn’t have to do that. I was going to grab something later.”

“Were you, though?” Peter teased, pulling up a chair without asking. “Or were you planning to survive on coffee and determination?”

You sighed, knowing he wasn’t wrong. “Okay, fine. But really, you didn’t need to go out of your way.”

“It wasn’t out of my way,” he replied, leaning back casually. “Besides, I wanted to.”

You hesitated, unsure of how to respond. Peter always had this way of saying things that left you completely off balance. “Well… thanks,” you mumbled, reaching for the bag.

“You’re welcome,” he said, his tone softer now. “It’s just a sandwich and some soup, but I figured it’d hold you over.”

You opened the bag, the warm aroma of tomato soup wafting out. “This is… really nice of you.”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Peter said with a faint smirk. “I can be nice.”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t,” you replied quickly, glancing up at him. “It’s just… unexpected.”

Peter tilted his head, studying you with an unreadable expression. “I like surprising you.”

Your stomach flipped at the way he said it, but before you could respond, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “So, how’s work?”

You shrugged, grateful for the change in topic. “Same as always. Spreadsheets, numbers, more spreadsheets.”

“Thrilling,” Peter teased, though his tone held genuine interest. “And Joshua? Has he been stopping by with sandwiches too?”

You froze, your spoon hovering over the soup container. “What? No. Why would he?”

Peter shrugged, his eyes glinting with something you couldn’t quite place. “Just curious. Thought maybe he was trying to impress you.”

“Well, he’s not,” you said quickly, though your cheeks felt like they were on fire. “We’ve only gone out a couple of times. It’s not that serious.”

“Good to know,” Peter said smoothly, sitting back in his chair.

You frowned, glancing at him. “Why does it matter?”

“It doesn’t,” he said lightly, though his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Just making conversation.”

You hesitated, searching his expression for some kind of clue, but he was impossible to read. “Okay,” you said finally, turning your attention back to your soup.

Peter watched you for a moment longer before standing. “I’ll let you get back to it. But if you need another delivery, you know where to find me.”

You glanced up, surprised by the sudden shift. “You’re leaving already?”

He smiled faintly. “For now. But I’ll see you soon.”

Before you could respond, he was already heading for the door. You stared after him, the warmth of his gesture lingering even as his presence left the room.

Peter paused in the doorway, glancing back over his shoulder. “Don’t skip lunch tomorrow, Y/N.”

“I won’t,” you promised, though your voice was softer than you intended.

His smile widened slightly, and then he was gone, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the small, unexpected weight of his visit.

---

The Apollo Theatre foyer buzzed with excited chatter as you stood with Joshua, clutching your program and trying not to look overwhelmed. Olivia spotted you almost instantly, weaving through the crowd with her signature enthusiasm.

“There you are!” she exclaimed, wrapping you in a quick hug before turning to Joshua. “And look who’s with you. Hey Joshua. Ready for the show?”

Joshua smiled warmly, shaking her hand. “Always. How could I pass up an evening at the theatre?”

Olivia turned back to you, grinning. “Y/N, are you ready for this? I’ve heard Wicked is incredible. And you know how I feel about The Wizard of Oz.”

You laughed softly. “You’ve only mentioned it a thousand times.”

Before Olivia could retort, another familiar voice joined the conversation. “Quite the reunion, isn’t it?”

Your head snapped toward the source. Peter stood a few feet away, looking effortlessly composed as always. Beside him, Jade smiled politely, her golden hair catching the soft light of the foyer.

Joshua straightened, his expression slipping into something cooler. “Peter. Jade. Fancy seeing you here.”

Peter’s smile didn’t waver as he glanced at you. “Is it? I thought this was the hottest ticket in town. Wouldn’t miss it.”

Olivia’s eyes darted between the two men, her smirk growing. “Wow, all four of us together. How cozy.”

“Five,” Jade corrected with a light laugh. “Don’t forget me.”

“Right, of course,” Olivia said, her tone borderline teasing.

Joshua’s hand brushed lightly against your back. “Shall we find our seats, Y/N? I think intermission mingling will suffice for this particular group.”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “Actually, you’re all in our row. They’ve just started seating.”

Your heart sank slightly as Peter gestured toward the usher holding the door open. Of course you’d all end up sitting together—it was just your luck.

Joshua’s jaw tightened ever so slightly, but he maintained his composure. “Well, that’s convenient.”

Peter stepped forward, extending an arm toward you. “Shall we?”

Joshua opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Olivia interjected, her tone bright and amused. “Go ahead, Y/N. Peter knows the way better than any of us.”

You shot Olivia a quick glare, but Peter was already waiting, his arm still offered. Hesitantly, you placed your hand on his sleeve, letting him guide you toward the theatre. Joshua followed close behind, his expression unreadable.

---

The row was, unsurprisingly, a bit of a squeeze. Olivia sat on the far end, with Joshua next to her. You were in the middle, flanked by Peter on your left and Jade on his other side.

“This is… cozy,” Olivia quipped as everyone settled into their seats.

“Intimate, even,” Peter added smoothly, his gaze sliding to you. “How are you finding your evening so far, Y/N?”

“It’s nice,” you said quickly, fidgeting with your program. “I’m excited for the show.”

“As you should be,” Peter replied, leaning closer. “It’s a masterpiece. Though, I’ll admit, some moments can be quite… emotional.”

“Good thing I brought tissues,” Olivia teased from the other end.

Joshua cleared his throat, drawing your attention. “Are you familiar with the music, Y/N? I could hum a few bars if you need a preview.”

You laughed softly, trying to ease the growing tension. “I think I’ll manage, thanks.”

Peter’s lips twitched into a smirk. “Careful, Joshua. You wouldn’t want to spoil the magic.”

Jade glanced between the two men, her smile polite but strained. “Isn’t it wonderful how theatre brings everyone together?”

“Truly,” Peter said, his tone light but sharp enough to earn a glance from Joshua.

Before the exchange could escalate, the lights dimmed, and the orchestra began its overture. You turned your attention to the stage, grateful for the distraction.

---

Throughout the performance, you couldn’t help but feel hyper-aware of Peter. His arm rested lightly on the shared armrest, close enough that your elbows brushed once or twice. Each time, you shifted slightly, but he didn’t seem to notice—or perhaps he did and simply didn’t care.

Joshua, meanwhile, leaned in occasionally to whisper something about the show. His commentary was kind and thoughtful, but your responses were distracted, your focus tugged toward the man on your other side.

When intermission arrived, Olivia stood immediately. “Drinks, anyone? I could use something fizzy.”

“I’ll come with you,” Jade said quickly, standing and smoothing her dress.

Joshua glanced at you. “Want to stretch your legs, Y/N?”

Before you could answer, Peter turned toward you, his expression casual but intent. “Or we could stay and chat. The lobby will be packed.”

Joshua’s jaw tightened, but he managed a smile. “It’s up to you.”

You hesitated, feeling the weight of both their gazes. “I think I’ll stay,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joshua nodded stiffly. “Alright. I’ll grab you a drink, then.”

As he and the others filed out, Peter leaned back in his seat, his posture relaxed. “Interesting choice.”

You turned toward him, fidgeting slightly with the program in your lap. “What is?”

“Staying behind,” he said lightly, his gaze steady but unintrusive. “I thought you might want a break from all this.” He gestured toward the crowded theatre.

You shrugged, unsure how to respond. “I don’t mind staying. It’s quieter now.”

Peter’s lips quirked into a small smile. “True. Quieter can be nice sometimes.”

You nodded, clutching the program tighter. The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was heavy in a way that made your chest feel tight.

“You’re enjoying the show, I hope?” Peter asked after a moment, his tone light.

“Yeah, it’s amazing,” you said quickly, grateful for the neutral topic. “The cast is incredible.”

“It’s a masterpiece,” Peter agreed. “I remember the first time I saw it. Defying Gravity gave me chills.”

You smiled faintly. “It’s definitely the kind of show that sticks with you.”

He studied you for a moment, then leaned a bit closer, resting his arm on the shared armrest. “You know, I’ve always admired your taste in music.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What? Why?”

Peter shrugged casually, though there was a glimmer of something deeper in his eyes. “You’ve got a good ear. You appreciate the details most people miss.”

Your cheeks grew warm under his gaze. “I don’t know about that. I just… like what I like.”

“That’s what makes it genuine,” he said simply. “You don’t pretend to like things just because it’s expected. It’s refreshing.”

You glanced down, fiddling with the corner of the program. “I guess I’ve never thought about it that way.”

He chuckled softly, his voice warm. “That’s what makes it true.”

You dared to look up at him again, finding his expression unusually soft. “You’re being… really nice today.”

“Am I not usually nice?” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

“No, you are,” you said quickly, stumbling over your words. “It’s just… different.”

Peter tilted his head, his smile growing. “Maybe I’m just trying to put you at ease. You always seem a little… on edge around me.”

“I’m not,” you protested, though your voice lacked conviction.

“You are,” he countered gently. “But I’m glad you stayed. It’s nice talking like this.”

You hesitated, unsure how to respond. Finally, you muttered, “Yeah, it is.”

The corners of his mouth lifted slightly, and he leaned back into his seat, his hand resting on the armrest just a little closer to yours. “Do you remember the first play we went to? At my father’s estate? You must’ve been—what? Eleven? Twelve?”

You smiled faintly at the memory. “It was A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Olivia made me go with her.”

Peter chuckled. “And you spent the entire first act whispering that you didn’t understand why people thought Shakespeare was funny.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Please don’t remind me. I was such a pain back then.”

“You weren’t,” he said softly, his tone sincere. “You were curious. That’s what made it endearing.”

You peeked at him through your fingers, your voice muffled. “Endearing?”

“Very,” he said with a small grin.

Before you could respond, the others began filtering back into the row. Joshua handed you a drink with a polite smile, his eyes flicking briefly to Peter. “Hope I got the right one.”

“Perfect,” you said quickly, taking the glass and shifting slightly in your seat.

Peter leaned back, his expression unreadable, but his gaze lingered on you for just a moment longer before he turned his attention to the stage.

As the lights dimmed and the show resumed, you couldn’t shake the feeling of Peter’s presence beside you. It was magnetic, grounding in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

And as the music swelled, you found yourself wondering if staying behind had been the right choice—or if it had only complicated things even more.

---

It was nerve-wracking going on dates with Joshua, but meeting his parents? That felt like a completely different level of stress. Lord Beckett’s estate was sprawling, the kind of place you’d only seen in magazines, and the garden party looked like something out of a period drama.

“Relax,” Joshua said, offering you his arm as you both approached the grand lawn. “They’re going to love you. And even if they don’t, they’re far too proper to say anything about it.”

“That’s… oddly comforting,” you muttered, glancing nervously at the clusters of guests sipping champagne and chatting under the shade of elegant white umbrellas.

“You’ll be fine,” he said, his tone warm. “Just smile and let me do the talking.”

You managed a small nod, though your stomach twisted with nerves.

Joshua led you toward a group near the center of the lawn, where Lord Beckett stood in a sharp navy suit, his posture as upright as his title implied. His wife, Lady Beckett, was beside him, her features poised and polite.

“Ah, Joshua,” Lord Beckett said, his deep voice carrying over the hum of conversation. His sharp eyes flicked to you. “And this must be… Y/N, is it?”

“Yes, sir,” you said softly, offering a polite smile.

“Welcome,” Lady Beckett said, her tone more cordial than warm. “It’s lovely to meet you. Joshua’s spoken highly of you.”

You blinked, glancing at Joshua, who grinned. “What can I say? She’s easy to talk about.”

Lady Beckett’s smile widened just a fraction. “How charming.”

Before the conversation could go much further, another familiar voice cut in.

“Lord Beckett,” Peter said smoothly, stepping into the group with Jade on his arm. “Always a pleasure.”

Your breath caught, and you instinctively looked away, focusing intently on the glass in your hand.

“Peter Lyman,” Lord Beckett greeted, his tone polite but measured. “You’ve been making quite the rounds lately.”

Peter chuckled. “What can I say? It’s hard to resist a good garden party.” His gaze flicked to you briefly, his smile unwavering. “Y/N. Fancy seeing you here.”

Jade added with a light laugh, “it’s practically a reunion, isn’t it? How lovely.”

Joshua’s arm tensed slightly under your hand, but he kept his tone pleasant. “Peter, Jade. Enjoying the season?”

“Absolutely,” Peter replied, his tone smooth as silk. “And you? Busy keeping Y/N entertained, I assume?”

Joshua’s smile tightened just enough for you to notice. “She’s been wonderful company. Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

You nodded quickly, feeling the weight of everyone’s gaze. “Yes. Very.”

Peter’s lips quirked, his expression unreadable. “Good to hear.”

Jade broke the tension with a bright laugh, linking her arm with Peter’s. “Peter’s always said these events are better with good company. Haven’t you, darling?”

“Something like that,” Peter said lightly, though his eyes flicked back to you briefly.

“Shall we, Y/N?” Joshua asked suddenly, his tone smooth but insistent. “I’d love to show you the south gardens. They’re a bit quieter.”

You nodded, eager for an escape. “Of course.”

As Joshua guided you away, you couldn’t help but glance over your shoulder. Peter’s gaze was still on you, his expression calm but intent, as if he was waiting for something you weren’t sure you could give.

“Don’t let him get to you,” Joshua said quietly as you walked, his voice low but firm.

“What?” you asked, startled.

“Lyman,” Joshua clarified, glancing at you. “He likes to play games. Don’t let him pull you into one.”

You frowned, unsure of how to respond. “I don’t think he—”

“He does,” Joshua interrupted gently but firmly. “Trust me.”

You didn’t answer, but your thoughts were a storm of doubt and confusion as you followed Joshua toward the gardens.

---

The south gardens were quieter, with fewer guests and a small fountain bubbling in the center. Joshua stopped beside it, turning to face you fully.

“You’re tense,” he said softly.

“I’m fine,” you replied quickly, though your voice wavered.

Joshua studied you for a moment, his expression softening. “Y/N… if this is too much, you don’t have to stay.”

“No, it’s okay,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “I just—this isn’t really my scene, you know? But I’ll manage.”

He nodded, his lips curving into a faint smile. “I know it’s not easy. But you’re handling it well.”

“Thanks,” you said, though your thoughts were still elsewhere.

Joshua’s gaze flicked past you for a moment, and his expression shifted, growing cooler. You turned to see Peter approaching, his stride measured and confident.

“Hope I’m not interrupting,” Peter said smoothly, stopping a few paces away.

“Actually—” Joshua started, but Peter cut him off.

“Y/N,” Peter said, his tone softer as his gaze settled on you. “Do you have a moment?”

Joshua’s jaw tightened, but he kept his tone even. “We were just about to head back, actually.”

Peter ignored him, his eyes still on you. “Just a moment, Y/N. That’s all I need.”

You hesitated, glancing between them. Joshua’s expression was calm but tense, while Peter’s was unreadable, his usual charm tempered by something more serious.

“Go ahead,” Joshua said finally, his voice tight. “I’ll wait here.”

You nodded slowly, stepping toward Peter. “What is it?”

Peter waited until you were out of earshot before speaking, his voice low. “You don’t have to stay with him, you know.”

“What?” you asked, frowning.

“I mean it,” he said, his tone soft but firm. “If you’re not happy, you don’t have to keep pretending.”

“I’m not pretending,” you said quickly, though your voice sounded unconvincing even to your own ears.

Peter’s eyes searched yours, his expression softening. “You are. And you’re not very good at it.”

Your chest tightened, but you couldn’t bring yourself to argue.

“I know this is all… complicated,” Peter continued, his voice gentler now. “But I can’t stand watching you with him, knowing you’re not where you want to be.”

“Peter,” you started, but he shook his head.

“Just think about it, Y/N,” he said quietly. “That’s all I’m asking.”

Before you could respond, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there with your heart racing and your mind spinning.

---

Later, while you sipped your glass of champagne and held a small plate with a scone, Joshua leaned down, his voice low and warm. “I’m going to say hello to the Westford’s,” he said, pressing a light kiss to your cheek before walking away.

You blinked, your heart skipping a beat as you glanced around, hoping no one had noticed. It felt like such a public display, something you weren’t used to, especially with so many watchful eyes at a gathering like this.

Unfortunately, someone had noticed.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Peter standing with Jade near the edge of the garden. His expression was calm, but there was a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze. And then, with deliberate ease, Peter turned toward Jade, leaning down to whisper something in her ear.

Jade laughed softly, tilting her head up to him.

And then he kissed her.

It wasn’t a quick, polite kiss, either. It was slow, deliberate—enough to catch the attention of more than a few nearby guests.

Your stomach twisted as you froze, your fingers tightening around your glass. For a moment, you considered looking away, but your gaze betrayed you, snapping back to Peter.

And that’s when he looked at you.

Even as he kissed Jade, his eyes met yours, holding your gaze with an intensity that sent a chill down your spine. It wasn’t a glance; it was deliberate, calculated.

You felt your chest tighten, heat rising to your face. Before you could process what had just happened, you set your plate and glass down on a nearby table and turned on your heel, heading toward the side of the lawn.

You found Joshua near the Westford’s, laughing at something Lord Westford had said. He glanced up as you approached, his expression softening. “Y/N, are you alright?”

“I’m not feeling well,” you said quickly, your voice tight. “I think I’m going to head out.”

Joshua frowned, stepping closer. “What’s wrong? Do you want me to call for a car?”

“No, it’s fine,” you replied, shaking your head. “I’ll grab a cab. I just need to go.”

“Are you sure?” he pressed, his brow furrowing.

“I’m sure,” you said, your tone firmer this time. “Thank you for the invitation. It was… lovely.”

Joshua hesitated, his eyes searching yours for a moment before he nodded. “Alright. Just let me know when you’re home, okay?”

“I will,” you promised, already turning to leave.

You made your way out of the estate, barely registering the elegant gardens or the soft chatter of the guests. Your chest felt tight, and your thoughts were a jumbled mess as you flagged down a cab and climbed inside.

---

By the time you arrived at Olivia’s apartment, your head was spinning. You fumbled with the spare key she’d given you, finally unlocking the door and stepping inside.

“Y/N?” Olivia called from the couch, her voice muffled by the blanket draped over her. She sat up, a bowl of popcorn in her lap. “What are you doing here? I thought you were at Lord Beckett’s thing.”

You dropped your purse on the nearest chair, your hands trembling slightly. “I was. I just… I couldn’t stay.”

Olivia’s eyes narrowed as she set the popcorn aside and stood, crossing the room in a few quick strides. “Okay, spill. What happened?”

You hesitated, your throat tightening. “Peter happened,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

Olivia blinked, then sighed, crossing her arms. “What did he do this time?”

You sank onto the couch, burying your face in your hands. “He kissed Jade. Right in front of everyone. And then he… he looked at me.”

“What?” Olivia asked, her tone sharp. She sat down beside you, her hand resting on your arm. “Are you serious?”

You nodded, unable to keep back your sobs any longer. “I don’t know what he’s trying to do, Liv. One minute he’s nice, the next he’s… playing games. I can’t keep up.”

Olivia frowned, scooting closer and pulling you into a hug. “Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to figure it all out right now.”

You leaned into her, your face pressed against her shoulder. “It’s just… he said something to me before he kissed her.”

She pulled back slightly, her hands still on your arms. “What did he say?”

Your voice wavered as you tried to explain. “He said… he couldn’t stand seeing me with Joshua. That I wasn’t where I wanted to be. And then—then he just… walked away. And not even ten minutes later, he’s kissing Jade like it’s nothing.”

Olivia exhaled sharply, pulling you back into her arms. “Oh, Y/N. I’m so sorry. That’s so… Ugh, I don’t even know what to say.”

You sniffled, your hands clutching the fabric of her sweater. “Why would he say something like that if he didn’t mean it? And then do the exact opposite? It’s like he’s trying to mess with me.”

She rubbed your back gently, her voice soft. “I know it feels like that. But right now, you don’t need to make sense of it. You’ve had a hell of a day. Let’s just… focus on getting you through this moment, okay?”

You nodded weakly, wiping at your eyes. “I feel so stupid, Liv. I shouldn’t even care, but I do. I always have.”

“You’re not stupid,” Olivia said firmly, pulling back enough to look you in the eye. “You’ve had feelings for him forever. This isn’t something you can just turn off.”

You didn’t respond, your chest still tight as you struggled to catch your breath.

“Alright,” Olivia said after a moment, her tone more practical. “Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re staying here tonight. I’ll make us some tea, and we’ll find something mindless to watch on TV. No more thinking about Peter, Jade, or Joshua. Deal?”

You hesitated, but the thought of not dealing with any of it, even for a little while, was too tempting to resist. “Deal.”

“Good,” Olivia said, standing and giving you a small smile. “Stay put. I’ll grab the tea.”

As she headed to the kitchen, you curled up on the couch, pulling the blanket tighter around you. Your thoughts were still spinning, but Olivia’s presence was grounding, her no-nonsense approach exactly what you needed.

When she returned with two steaming mugs, she set one down in front of you and plopped onto the couch with the other. “Alright, your choice: rom-coms or reality TV?”

You hesitated, then managed a small smile. “Rom-coms. Something ridiculous.”

Olivia grinned, grabbing the remote. “You’ve got it.”

As the opening credits of some over-the-top romantic comedy filled the screen, you leaned back into the cushions, trying to let the chaos of the day fade into the background. Olivia reached over, giving your hand a quick squeeze before settling in beside you.

“Hey,” she said quietly. “Whatever happens, you’ll figure it out. You always do.”

You nodded, your voice too shaky to respond. For now, you let yourself focus on the warmth of the tea in your hands and the comfort of Olivia’s shoulder against yours. It wasn’t a solution, but it was enough for the moment.

⁠♡ part 2 ♡

[kayakima]

Why do you think Jean and Pieck work well as a couple? (srs)

I know you have a fic of it but I'm curious about your direct take.

Oooo I’m definitely not the first person who has said this but a lot of the appeal with Jean x Pieck lies with the post-canon potential between the two of them as opposed to scenes that you directly see in the manga/anime!

Jean and Pieck are both shown to be incredibly pragmatic, level-headed, and loyal characters, (where their loyalty primarily lies with people as opposed to the systems that brought them up. I.e. Pieck saying she doesn’t trust Marley but the people she’s fought with, and Jean telling Reiner that they’re no different from each other, so it’s wrong to judge their actions), and in their few short scenes together, it shows that they immediately read how the other works in a way that they can work together efficiently in a fight. They don’t hold anything against each other for past instances, because right off the bat they both understand that nothing is personal in war, and when they’re finally at a point in the narrative where it’s time to join up, they do so immediately without hesitation.

From a physical standpoint, Jean canonically likes girls with dark hair, and while that in and of itself isn’t enough to say “oh they’re canon because she has black hair”, it does lend to the idea that Pieck may have partially been designed to serve as a potential secondary love interest for Jean, considering that she was originally supposed to be a middle aged man. Even if that change wasn’t intended to open that door, their scene together on Eren’s Titan very clearly pushes a “hey guys this is also a new potential love interest situation so pay attention to these two!!!” Type of agenda that’s really common in this type of storytelling. Pieck herself is portrayed as being inseparable from Porco, who also has a fiery temperament and dirty-blonde hair, and while Porco and Pieck lack the absolutely absurd height difference between her and Jean, we still see her interactions with a male character that has similar traits with Jean. Once Porco dies, Pieck is clearly upset, but then chooses to push forward to fulfill her duty to her fellow warriors (who else in this story chose to follow through to make a difference to honor a comrade that was in one way or another killed because of Reiner???) they’re reflections of the same character traits in different bodies, and they mirror each other incredibly well when they barely even interact onscreen.

But in the parts where they DO interact, I can’t tell you how many shows and movies I’ve seen that have had two side characters that previously didn’t talk much suddenly wind up in a long fight sequence together, and more often than not, it does lead to a character change and emphasized romantic potential by the end of the story. Character blocking in scenes is incredibly important, and when two characters are placed together for a 4-5 minute scene of just the two of them, then the contrast of both their visuals and their personalities is much more noticeable. Then we get into the boat scene, where Pieck is the one to tease Jean about his hair, and he makes just as equally cheeky a response. I do think their time as ambassadors would put them in close quarters very often, and in real life, people fall for each other all the time when they’re together 24/7. I think it was intentional that Pieck was the one to start the banter with Jean to go back on my previous statements, and I think by the end of the story, that’s implied that there’s a good chance the two of them either currently have something going on, or that there’s something that will happen between them eventually. I also like the idea that since they met as adults, and with wildly different life experiences, they could have a lot to learn from each other without years of trauma and baggage that affects their relationship. They’re two entirely separate people that have the potential to become something completely new together as opposed to being together in the shadow of everything that happened to them when they were younger.

Also consider this: incredibly attractive and smug man meets even more attractive and smug woman. Then they have four kids.

[cleolinda]

JANUARY 6: I fought my first monster in Silent Hill 2, or any video game, for that matter. It was rough, but James and I prevailed.

JANUARY 7: I went back to try the combat tutorial again and get some practice. This audio (my voice only) is more of a walkthrough than just the fight itself—a description of the "lying figure" monster, my inability to get over hitting the wrong healing key, the way the game teaches you 1) how to pick up healing items and 2) disappointment, the side effects of long covid, and my continued struggles to get James through doors. And then, finally, we fight. I've improved so much!

CURRENT DAY: I am working on getting some actual video gameplay of my fights (yes, multiple) with Pyramid Head. I sincerely have 20+ minutes of him killing me 11 times so I can practice Basic Gamer Skills. This will follow the video of me originally shrieking for 3 minutes.

(Comments directed at my player character are in parentheses.) {Comments directed at the enemy/monster are in brackets and bold.} Content: Vomit is one of the monster's attacks but I don't describe it at much length (I don't care for it either). A body-horror monster is described but only in terms of clothing.

The problem was that when I was trying to fight this lying figure… monster… the camera was way too sensitive, and every time I tried to move, it was going around the room and I wasn't able to see exactly where the vomit was coming from. 


So, if you haven't played Silent Hill, if you're not—Silent Hill 2, rather—and you're not familiar with this—this monster... they're all fucked up, just off the bat. But specifically, this is a... feminine-looking figure... the top half is kind of a weird... I don't really know how to describe this. It's supposed to kind of have.... aspects of maybe a body bag and a straitjacket and kind of some corset lacing detail? This is all like a maroon color. Uh... it doesn't have a face, that's covered. Somehow it's able to vomit through all this. It vomits acid—HUGE shower—cone of—of acid, and the bottom half is just like... legs... in platform heels. When I get to the actual recorded gameplay, we'll talk about what the fuck this has to do with anything, because it's got—it—this imagery is for a reason. They never explain it in-game, but it's for a reason. 

So I'm having to rock up to this figure—oh, it doesn't have arms. It does, but they're like... bound underneath this straitjacket-type... business. So all it can do is... run at me... headbutt... vomit... I forget if there's a third thing it can do... specifically. These are extremely difficult, actually—oh, oh, it gets on the floor and it slithers around. That's not helpful either. So, that—which makes it harder to hit—like you want it on the ground where it can't vomit on you? But that also makes it a lot harder to hit it. So... this is what I'm having to deal with [laughing] in my very first combat. And that's why I was sitting there the other day going, “No, no, c’mere. C’mere. Can’t reach you. C’mere.” And that's why I said I got vomited on.... a lot, because I have the camera spinning around the room and I can't see what direction it's coming from. And life is already hard. Life is already hard, and I'm already having a hard enough time making this man walk forward. So...

And there's also a stomp... kind of function—I thought this was maybe a separate control, like press this for hit, press this for stomp. No, it's just whatever James feels like. It's just whatever he feels like in the moment. People really enjoy the stomping—players really enjoy the stomping. And I was like, I don't—I don't know how much I like this. It's a lot of grunting. I'm not—I'm not sure how down with this I am. And [then] I'm like oh, oh okay, I don't get to choose. This is just James working some feelings out. That's. Okay. So stomping actually works really well when something slithers across the floor. So I will let him make that judgment call.

Right now we are in this skeevy house on Martin Street—oh, oh that [camera] is not sensitive enough at all. Oh, boy, yeah that's not fast enough. Okay. Settings—you get to come along for the ride with me, I'm very sorry about that, but... this is.... this is part of the ~journey. “Look” sensitivity [i.e., mouse control of the camera sensitivity]. Let's put you back on [0.]20 and we're gonna see how that goes.

Also, I'm kind of... not sorry we're putting off the combat. I... survived. My first combat tutorial, I survived it... but it was rough. Uh... I nearly failed this man. He was at death’s door. He had the plus sign come up, he had the really thick red border vignette come up. We just managed to find a syringe in time. That was my fault—well, all of this is my fault—but that was my fault because they gave us a health drink before going into this. That's why it's a tutorial, they kind of walk you through—here's what you're gonna need during it, here’s what you're gonna need after it, after you've got your ass beat. And you hit V [key] once to take this health drink that heals you a little bit. And then when you have a syringe, you hold V down to take this greater healing item. And I, in my infinite wisdom, hit V down and held it in my urgency to heal him while getting vomited on, and obviously he didn't have a syringe yet, we hadn't gotten that far, and so I just stood there doing nothing, healing nothing, while getting beaten up by a monster without arms.

So... it was an adventure—see, here's what's so funny. Most people know how to do the health drink tap and they can't figure out how to do the syringe because they miss the part where you have to hold the key down. I did the reverse where I couldn't figure out the normal basic thing. Because that's me. That's me as a person and a gamer. I will always find a new and interesting way to be wrong about something.

All right, let's see... how does this—okay that [camera sensitivity is] livable, that's livable. All right, all right, point the camera. The Camera Is The Most Important Part Of Walking. Nobody told me that. I learned this… for myself. 

[In the room just before combat:] I have to point him at the door knob, not just the door. Okay, so here is the cabinet. We're gonna point him at this cabinet. (No—a little bit—there you go. This is on me. This is not you. This is a little bit on you. E [key], we're gonna pick that up.)

This is the nutritional supplement—how this heals you? I—how would a nutritional supplement heal you? Are we talking like, Ensure? Are we talking Boost? Are we talking kombucha? Yeast? I don't know what this is. Why would—why would this do anything? “For adoh”—[sigh] I can talk. I really can. [Reading:] “For adults only. Do not exceed recommended dose.” So we're gonna take 500 of these. Okay. That's fine. All right, and so then— [The game tells you to tap V to use the health drink.] I'm not pressing V now! I'm not pressing V now! Then there's another cabinet. It's empty. The game demonstrates for us: disappointment. It demonstrates for us that sometimes things will be empty, because I would not have understood that otherwise.

All right, so here is—here is the door. I went through the wrong door last time.

[Long pause.]

My brain just... died, what am I doing? I'm pointing him at the door knob. Okay, I have long covid. I'm blaming that on everything. I'm blaming everything on that—I—both ways. I'm blaming everything on everything. (Please walk through the door, sweetie...) [I am struggling to direct James through doors. Again.] (I know, that's the hinge—don't—don't bump into it like—don't—just act like you're so inconvenienced. Come on. YOU KNOW WHAT A DOOR IS! —That’s the wall, I’m sorry. I—don't—don't just brush into the wall like you're just really playing it up. I know I'm a terrible person.)

(Okay, open door... open door. All right... all right...)

I'm probably gonna die this time. I'm probably going to be complacent and I'm going to die. All right. So: here's our monster detector/wife communicator. “E.” Cutscene. Here we go. (Pick it up!) It's making noise. All right. [Repeating what James says:] “Stay back.” I agree with that, I cosign that. 

Monster falls out. It's fucked up. Stare at it a little bit—the ratio looks a lot better. [I had spent a week trying to figure out how to correct the “wideness” of the picture.] That's what I'm focusing on in this moment—it's standing up. It's standing up. (Okay. Get that stick. [Your first weapon: in the cutscene, James picks up a plank of wood with nails on the end.] Get that stick. Get that stick.) 

{Stay back. Stay the fuck back.} Here we gooooo... [Vehement mouse clicking.] (Hit it? Hit it. Hit it? Hit it. Hit it—) {Are you gonna vomit?!} (Dodge! Dodge? We DODGED IT! All right! Do it again. Do it again. Okay, we’re gonna come forward—we're gonna—beat the shit out of this thing, come on, you can do it! You can do it.) 

{No! Are you about to throw up? Are you about to vomit—}

(Get it! Get it—) Oh! This is so clean. Oh, this is so clean. I didn't—didn't— (STOMP IT. There you go. It's not done until you say “what the hell is that.”) [The combat tutorial is over when James says, “What was that thing?”] (Stomp it? Yeah, just keep hitting it. Yeah.) “What was that thing?” he says. [Audibly clapping hands:] All right... all right. I didn't take a single hit. All right. 

(What was that, James? I don't know, hit it again.)

What are we doing? Okay, okay—where—where are we going? Do we get to leave? Is that a thing we get to do? No? Ever. Do we ever get to leave? Here we go. 

[sga-owns-my-soul]

im having a lot of thoughts today so i'm making it everyone else's problem sharing it with y'all but i keep thinking about how so much of rodney's character SCREAMS deeply closeted gay man??

like i think rodney's main issue in life (aside from being a genius child prodigy in a public high school in the 80s bc let's be real that wouldve Done Numbers on his mental state) is he Does Not Know the difference between Admiration and Attraction

when he sees a woman he admires and looks up to he assumes it has to be attraction, and Men are Supposed To Act a certain way around women, so he tries to do that and of course it fails horribly bc one- his idea of how to act around women is founded in extreme amounts of sexism and two- he's not actually attracted to them and is doing a terrible mimicry at it

like when you look at how he acts around sam, for example. everyone has seen that gif set of sam saying she hates him and rodney thinking they're flirting (which totally sells the idea to me that rodney has mostly if not exclusively had hate sex)(and also that his parents hated each other and fought constantly so that's his only example of "romance") right and we've all also seen that gif set of rodney admitting he's jealous of sam because she's brilliant and i think when you take those two conversations and put them side by side it's really easy to see a man who Is Not Attracted To Women but doesn't know how to act around them except through attraction so he takes all of these criticisms and anger towards him and assumes it has to be flirting because that's what men and women are supposed to do, you yell and scream at each other then have sex about it then do it all over again.

and on the flip side, i think when he sees a man he's attracted to, he assumes it Has To Be admiration because he thinks that's the only way he's allowed to feel towards other men (that or jealousy, which we also see a lot of) so instead of just having a crush on someone he feels the need to defend why they're so cool and amazing and perfect and wonderful because they HAVE TO BE because if they're not why else would rodney "admire" them or be jealous of them?

and i think this HEAVILY plays into how rodney sees john. rodney can't fathom his feelings for john as attraction which means it HAS to be admiration/jealousy and we do see that very often, ESPECIALLY around women. rodney looooooves to bitch about how john gets all the women but when rodney does have a woman actually interested and trying to pursue him he freezes up and stumbles and has no idea what to do or where to go (see: the brotherhood and inferno) rodney constantly goes off about how cool and suave and charming and a ladies man john is and those of us who have eyes and ears are very aware that john is None Of Those Things, and i think rodney's insistence that he is comes from the fact that rodney cannot comprehend that what he feels is attraction and because of his own deeply rooted internalized homophobia he NEEDS john to be this Prime Example of Male Perfection because why else is rodney obsessed with him? why else does rodney want to be around him all the time? if johns not this perfect example of a man, what does that say about rodney and his desire to always be with john?

[kestrelstep]

In Mouthwashing, each character serves a different purpose to the meaning of the game.

[[Cw: mentions of suicide]]

I’ve been noticing as I write about the characters that each one is different mainly in terms of their innocence.

The most obvious one here is Jimbo, he’s obviously the least innocent because he is the aggressor. He’s supposed to be a manipulator and is the abuser in the story.

Then, there’s Anya. Anya is the victim. She gets forced into a situation and does everything she can to stop her abuser from hurting her more. She is a victim even in death, not because she is murdered but because she takes her own life to escape from her abuse.

Curly isn’t an abuser or a monster, but he is an enabler. He has no blood directly on his hands, but rather is manipulated himself into making decisions that worsen the situation. His inactivity when Anya needed his help is the reason everything went so badly in the first place. He’s not innocent, exactly, but he is both a victim and a part of the cycle of abuse.

Daisuke is pretty clear cut here too. He’s the uninformed innocent. He isn’t even on the ship before this haul. He just joined, he’s trying to get along with everyone on board, and he doesn’t know about the situation. If he did know about Anya’s suffering, he still would have no power to do anything about it.

Swansea is harder to place. I can’t say for certain that he knew about Anya’s situation early enough to do something, and even so, there wasn’t much he could have done other than react violently. But the fact of the matter is, he makes a few pretty bad decisions and we know that he is informed later on and still can do nothing. I would consider him an informed innocent, a mirror of Daisuke, but with more control and more information. He’s been here a while, and has respect on the ship, but he isn’t directly involved.

Anyway, those are my thoughts on each character! Mouthwashing has a lot of very interesting parallels and symbolisms between the characters, and I’m definitely gonna talk about it more soon.

[lucabyte]

Hey I know this is kinda stupid but ur little joke comics of siffrin having a bald spot being treated like any other sorta funny thing siffrin has going on is genuinely really affirming as a trans man who might lose his hair one day

ehh its not stupid at all. ill pull back the curtain and say that oh yeah these jokes are supposed to be lighthearted and affirming in that way so like. walk w me here

cuz thats the thing this joke works regardless of headcanon for siffrin/your own gender presentation bc like. transmasc, amab nb, transfem, intersex, hell even just pick-a-rando-off-the-street cis people worry abt going bald because it's just like. a distinct possibility. whether your testosterone is home grown or store bought its just one of the things that it can and may do.

obviously, there's ways to mitigate hair loss. transmascs especially have really good resource gathering for this, it seems? and it's very good to have the options to control your body and how you want to appear.

but that's the thing. weird uncontrollable shit happening to your body as you age is The Great Equalizer. And we'd probably all be better off if we didn't treat it so weirdly or like such a taboo. So making jokes about it the same way you would like, your back getting bad or joints getting creaky normalises it. Because it is normal, and there should be some humour in all shared experience !!!

making this joke abt Siffrin in particular is also not done without intentionality, also. like 1, as you said they already have so much shit going on that adding more is just funny to start with, 2. it makes logical sense with how stressed and deceptively old they are and 3. theyre like. a twink. they aren't particularly masculine (especially owing to the fact that, canonically, they don't consider themselves a man.) and people really do not see balding as anything other than hyper-masculine. so it can cause a lot of perception issues if you want to be seen as... literally anything else. ie. genderless, feminine, or just femme? So it stops people from depicting characters who aren't hyper masculine as balding at all/worse still makes people irl feel ashamed if they Are balding but don't want to be that level of masc. But it shouldn't be that way, because it's not like your genetic response to T (and stress..) cares what either society presently thinks Or what your personal sense of style is. And y'know. just in general. it's cruel to be judgemental about things beyond ones control.

... This is a lot of words for "thank god. im so glad drawing this twink balding is making people feel better because i hope everyone knows i'm not making this joke in meanspiritedness" now go forth and like. be fine with being bald someday. it happens to the best of us

[dock57]

Do I Choose to be Embarrassing Today? Perhaps.

[Well, possibly embarrassing for me to say out loud. I am, a shy fan, not going to lie- so often I don't really post a lot about what I love about a series. I often sit in the back, trying to find the perfect moment to escape through the back door before anyone can see how flustered I can get. This blog is the first fan blog I have ever made.

Anyway, this was not exactly what I was planning on talking about today, but, now its on my mind, consuming it.

Monkey Wrench is an adult show. An adult show I appreciate that gives us characters I would absolutely take on a date as well. I am a hopeless romantic...

So where am I going with this? I'm going to list what I find attractive, like, and reasons why I would date Beebs or Shrike.

Only those two, because they're the ones I would date the most. Everyone has their different tastes and attractions, so don't think I am saying that the others are not dateable, that would be a lie. Just two are my taste.

Shrike still needs work, let's be honest. I do mean in character development as well. Shrike as I would describe right now is going through his "rebellious" phase at a later age. He's the type I would be interested in, but, would really encourage to clean up his act before he considers a deeper bond, no one is going to fix him, that's his own work, and he needs to realize that before he thinks of going into a committed relationship. If he does.

The funny thing about my interest in Shrike- is that physical appearance wise- I am not really attracted to. I like to call Shrike my only "Twink Husband." Because he is. Though, I also would not really call him a typical twink either- A twink is more than just the looks.

Really it is Shrike's character that attracts me.

Shrike is humorous. Yes as a character he is supposed to be. He does end up usually being the one to be the end of a joke. I know there are times when Shrikes tries to be funny, and times when he is not- but I cannot help but to find Shrike cute when he is accidently funny. I find most of the time that Shrike focuses too hard on being someone he is not- and the times when he is more himself, are the times I think that when he is funny- in a good way. I mean let's be honest, anyone who is being themselves, is way better than being who they are not, especially if being themselves is harmless. I also would like to add that Shrike can make some pretty funny jokes at time. I think of the one when Beebs and Shrike are caught up by everyone in Ghost Egg at the Shuttle Station. I know there might be better examples, but I find what he said here to be funny to me.

I also need to add this part when they arrive to the station and Shrike is strolling along like this. In general, Shrike is just a goofy fellow, sometimes I wonder if he knows that.

2. I love when he is passionate about what he loves. This can be done to an extreme, but I think Shrike's passion is just the right amount of being healthy. I love how Shrike is passionate about what he holds close to him- I like that in people. I think not having a deep passion in interests can be a bit concerning, as I feel like that there could be an issue of being passionate to another as well. I enjoy the moments when Shrike speak about his interests and the excitement in his voice for them. I think that Shrike can also slowly learn to become passionate for others in their interests, even at the end of Us & Them when Shrike tries to attempt to play his acoustic guitar again for Beebs.

3. Is Shrike caring? Its in process. Shrike is considered to be selfish and pretty irresponsible. This is something I cannot turn blind to. He uses the company's money on irresponsible costs such as the Bucket becoming red, and of course blowing it at the Casino.As for being selfish, it usually is for when he looking for any opportunity to get money, which, doing favors and expecting money from it, is a selfish desire. Such as when in Us & Them, they response to the distress call. Beebs says "We should check it out-" Shrike points to Beebs' wrist and says "There could be money in it for us~"

You can also say he is selfish in Lythop Liberation as well, as Shrike only seem to start going after Dr. Agnes after she throws his Ship. As he does say "Grind up an entire species on your own time! But when you wreck MY ship... IT GETS PERSONAL!" Though, at the same time, Shrike does care about them being grinded beforehand as well as Shrike does shout out "WH-WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOIN'?" after they were put in the blender. This is why I say he is caring, but in process- it is definitely something he is starting to develop. I think Shrike is a caring person but does not show it really from the outside. I think he does it more through motives. I mean, I would love to do a post more in-depth about this scene in particular, but

The tension, the expression. This is what I mean when I think Shrike does care. He does try to help. But, he doesn't always make the right choice to do so. Shrike does respect Beebs and really has shown to care about him. Even earlier in the episode in Plague Walkers when Shrike is at the bar with Ricket- he only praised Beebs.

I believe that Shrike can become a caring person, I think as of right now, he needs the right push and motivation to do so. So although a process, a caring guy? Who starts to think about others and their interests too? Yeah I think that's a good trait to have.

As of right now, Shrike is a loser. A very lovable loser. One who I also love because I think Shrike might be the type to reflect on himself as time goes on and be open to change as it continues in the series.

Or, that's what I wish for- who knows?

Well then you have Beebs.

Beebs is definitely more of my type when it comes to physical attraction. I like the bigger guys, but its so rare to find good ones in media...

I appreciate Monkey Wrench for going with the approach of Beebs not being the stereotype for fat characters, especially fatter males. Usually they're the ones to be the joke in the end of the day, and not good jokes I might add, usually referring to their shape. Other times, usually fatter males are also just either the evil character arch types or the annoying ones, making them even more unappealing.

So Beebs is such a nice fresh of breath air from media. I have no idea if the creators were even trying, but they did make Beebs attractive, and as I said, not just physically, but as a character as well. I am so glad that Beebs breaks the norm for fatter males.

Oh that's a Caring man, all right. Oh we all know that Beebs is caring, as well as being sentimental. There are so many examples where Beebs shows it. Even if Norbert was annoying, Beebs cared about how they present themselves to him, especially when Shrike was threating to shoot him- Beebs tried to be reasonable and take the time to understand Norbert. Of course in Lythops Liberation, we know he cares about those little guys and what happened to Punti. We know even in Us & Them, that Beebs through out the whole episode tried so hard to think about others, not just their wellbeing but even their feelings as well.

Even though Us could have propose as a threat, Beebs took the time to know them first before making a judgement call- he tries to see the best in everyone. He cares to listen first, he cares about others and shows it through words and actions as well. I love that so much in a man- I think that's something everyone can agree is something that everyone should be.

2. Strong. I know I know, a overrated one. But look, I love me a strong man, especially when the strong type is. done right. I am not going to go over in details about how being physically strong in media is portrayed often incorrectly. Because what we are taught to be "strong" is not the strong you want. Now, will say that not all larger males are just magically strong, its a combination that often overlook. Beebs is the combination of fat and muscle that actually creates a strong character physically. He is what strong is. Of course he is strong as well when it comes to mentally. I give Beebs an applaud for not losing it yet... I bet it is exhausting. He has a good head on his shoulders and manages to keep it together in the most stressful of situations. But he also is strong when it comes to not reacting as well, or returning a reaction. Such as in Plague Walkers when Ajax wanted Beebs to turn back for what he said about his mother- and I KNOW Beebs was really the urge, he still managed to walk away and leave until Ajax comes after him. Though, every strong man- I hope knows- need a time to break down and let it out too...

You Know- You Know...

3. Responsible. And a good thing to counter Shrike who right now- is not. Really who doesn't like a responsible person? Not just getting tasks done, but even when it comes to admitting their mistakes, flaws, or actions. Beebs has been through a lot, and although he is not sure where he fits in the galaxy, Beebs has learn a lot already. From what I watch, I think Beebs has experience of what its like to see when his actions catch up, or when to take up on a task and not. He also questions or steps in when he knows what should be done and not, such as when Dr. Agnes blended the Lythops. Even though Mercs are not suppose to ask questions, Beebs definitely knows when its time to step in and decide between what is morally right and wrong. It is a bit hard to say what happened to Beebs and in his past, but he definitely carries whatever he did with regret, and knows that even he's not 100% clean himself. For all we know, he might be wanting to try and kindle that past, or not, even if running away can be seen as irresponsible, I think Beebs had a good reason, and a reason that may have been a question of moral choices. I think what I am trying to say is that, I find that Beebs is self aware of his own character and is also trying to improve himself as well. Beebs know he is flawed, and is trying to work on himself as well. I like that in a guy...

Beebs also has some work to do, but at least he is aware of it. Still though, I love Beebs and how they did such a good job at making him attractive, despite not being the particular and common types that would draw attention. Beebs is attractive for overall just being a really well thought out character who has good morals and traits, something that be rare to find...

Well, that was a long post. I'm going to now hide behind this screen by putting Tumblr off to side where I can't see it for now. Hope you guys, enjoy! And tell me if there is anything else that you guys think also makes them dateable...]

[thebaldursmouthgazette]

I saw a post on X talking about how Solas mirrors the protagonist as something Trick Weekes said. Summed up it says "If you're arrogant you get arrogant Solas and if you're humble you get humble Solas." More or less the meaning being: He's a spirit and he is what you, the player, make of him. and tbh I feel like that's kind of bullshit given that you can't actually influence him in a way that matters to the plot. Him matching your energy in the moment is not "mirroring" that's just how people do. Also if that was true what does that say about Solas? That he has no real personality of his own and is just a device for the character to create a roleplay scenario? I think I just really dislike the take that only an arrogant player is going to end up with an arrogant Solas.

I've been thinking a lot about Rook's dialogue about Solas making people work hard for the smallest crumbs of approval and that's so true for the player. You can grind and grind for a high approval outcome but it doesn't actually give you much more than "He sees you as a person now." Not a person worth changing for, not a person worth saving. He'll just be sadder about destroying you and your world.

God I hate the mirroring argument. It only really works for inquisition, and even then only for like personal interactions with him and not who he is as a person, and even then not really.

How you speak to him doesn’t change some of the fundamental aspects of his character, namely that he’s committed several atrocities, murdered people he’s supposed to care about, is lying about who he is, is actively planning to end the world, and cannot be convinced otherwise by anyone.

How you treat him in inquisition has no bearing on any of that, it’s just that if you’re kinda rude to him he’s kinda rude back. Which as you’ve said, isn’t a particularly special spirit thing. That’s just how people work. Groundbreaking.

And any merit this had falls apart completely if you try to apply it to veilguard. Because not only do his atrocities, that he commits regardless of anything you do, increase in frequency and are much more focused on in the story, we know who he is from the beginning. The inquisitor being rude to a mostly polite fade expert who presents himself as just wanting to help is one thing, rook being harsh and unforgiving to the man who is literally trying to destroy the world and has committed several awful things already, including grievously wounding their friend because he tried to talk to him (they don’t know he’s dead. They do know that it wasn’t a minor injury) is another thing entirely.

Why should rook be nice to the man who is trying to destroy their world and kill everyone in it, just so he acts politely back while he is actively using blood magic on them to make them hallucinate their friend he murdered (and using the voice of the man he murdered to say things to further manipulate Rook), with the intention of trapping them in prison in the fade for eternity just for the crime of being in his way?

Why is it on them to repeatedly give ground, grin and bear it, smile and be polite, to appease the delicate sensitivities of the man who is going to kill them and everyone they care about regardless?

When it doesn’t change a thing about what he’s going to do, why do they have to go to great lengths to keep the conversation courteous, never question his decisions, never call him out for the awful things he does?

Why isn’t the onus on him to stop being a fundamental knobhead?

The mirroring argument is complete nonsense. More than that, when it’s applied to Rook (or even the inquisitor post trespasser), it absolutely fucking reeks of victim blaming. I frequently allude to Solas as an abusive person because there are so many parallels, and this mirroring nonsense where he is apparently only an asshole if you’re mean to him (even though he does most of his bs regardless) feels a lot like when abuse victims are told their abuser isn’t to blame for what they did because the victim provoked them, and can’t they just be nice and none of this would happen.

[reginaphalangelobster125]

Gone

Avengers x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader (each can be read as platonic or otherwise)

Summary: The team went on a mission, it was supposed to be simple. Supposed to be.

Warnings: Character death, human experimentation, not a lot but some intense violence, lots of angst, no happy ending.

Word Count 1,959

Your day started off like any other, you got up and put your workout clothes on and 4:45 am. You met Steve outside the tower at 5:00 and went on your usual run for about an hour. Once you got back to the compound you made everyone breakfast, that morning you chose pancakes, which the whole team devoured. After breakfast at about 7:15, you all went to the meeting room where Steve started his briefing.

'All right, quick and easy in and out HYDRA base takedown shouldn't take more than 2 hours tops' the Captain stated 'Location, small town just outside of New Orleans'.

'Sweet, we can hit the casino before we head home' Tony said, knowning full well Steve would never go for it.

'I don't think so, Tony' the super soldier said almost rolling his eyes.

You all suited up and piled into the quinjet within the hour and were off the ground by 8:00. You arrived near the HYDRA base, parked the quinjet and placed it in stealth mode all by 10:00.

Bruce stayed in the jet hoping there wouldn't be any need for a 'code green' as the team put it. The rest of you split into pairs and you were with Steve. You and Steve silently became partners a long time ago, you two just always worked well together and after some time you developed a meaningful and strong bond, becoming true best friends. The two of you snuck up on the guards and clocked them before they could even hear you. You put on a couple of helmets to sneak in and make sure there were no civilian hostages before blowing the building into the sky. You went right as Steve went left. You walked over to an elevator and just as the doors were about to shut a HYRDA agent snuck in with you. You were a bit worried he might notice you and as he got closer you just did the first thing you could think of and uttered the phrase 'hail hydra' under your breath, which seemed to work out for you as he returned the sentiment.

You heard some agents talking about 'the subjects' which you were almost certain were captives hidden somewhere, but what you didn't expect was children. You had be through and see things no one should have to, some that included children, but that didn't make it any easier when they were involved. You told Steve over comms, to meet you in the basement where you thought the kids were. You waited in the basement until 1:54 pm when you saw Steve approaching. You two searched the basement while Tony got JARVIS to take as many scans of the building as possible but there was something preventing him from seeing inside.

'J's stumped guys, he can't see through the walls, they're probably lined with lead' Tony grumbled annoyed that he hadn't considered lead.

'I don't know if you should stay in there if Tony can't see anything' Clint stated, concerned like the mother hen he is.

'We're not in there, Steve, Y/n, what do you think?' Natasha asked.

'Your call' Steve said looking to you. You had more experience with discrete infiltration than your super soldier friend who generally just bursts in.

'I say we keep going, we gotta find those kids' you said determined to help the children.

You and Steve ventured further into the basement, uncovering multiple secret rooms, but no kids. You looked for hours taking you to 6:24 pm and still no luck.

'You think we should call it a day?' Steve asked you.

'I can't leave those kids' you muttered back.

'Maybe there are no kids, maybe the agents were wrong'

'Can't take that chance, Captain'

He knew you were serious when you called him 'Captain' as you usually opted for 'Cap' or 'Steve'.

After continuing your search you finally found them. The door was locked so in one swift moment Steve knocked it down with a kick, you knew he's was a super soldier but sometimes you forgot. You rushed in the door started opening cells. Most of the children had some form of injuries but a few of them were.... different. You let one out that had feathers on her arms and another with gills, HYRDA had been experimenting on them. You had seen experimentations before but nothing this successful and not with Steve. When he saw the boy with a fluffy tail and ears you thought he might be sick, no because of the boy's appearance but because he knew the paint if experimental formulas and he hated that a child had to go through that. Many children. You could see the pain in Steve's usually soft blue eyes, not clouding with rage.

At 9:02 you started to help the children out of the building through the vent system, Clint's suggestion of course. You were greeted outside, not very warmly, by what must have been 100 HYDRA agents. The rest of the team joined you and they caught the agents as you and Steve protected the 20 odd kids. One agent grabbed a vulture-like girl, she must've be 5 years old at the most, and pointed a gun to her head. You stopped immediately, placing your weapon on the ground and you hands above your head.

'Don't hurt her, please' you begged the man but he just chuckled in response seeing how much you cared for the girl you had just barely met.

'I'll do want I want, bitch' he barked before tightening his grip on her throat. She looked up at you and muttered the words 'please help me' just before he took the shot. His finger tightened around the trigger squeezing it while staring at you the entire time. You didn't take your eyes off the little girl's. Big, beautiful, brown eyes staring up at you with hope, hope that you would save her life, but you didn't. You watched as he released his grip on her neck, letting her limp body fall to the ground with a sharp thud. You stared at her body. His gruff laughter jolting you back into reality. He knew he was about to die but seeing that he got to you made it all worth it. You turned your head back to face him, not saying a word you pounced on him. You ripped him apart, limb from limb, with your bare hands.

Steve saw you, elbow deep in the agent's bloody carcass. Then he saw the little girl lying on the ground next to you. He didn't say anything, now wasn't the time, he just continued to fight. He unleashed the bottled up rage from when he saw the children earlier.

Everyone was beating the agents senseless and just as you thought the battle was coming to a close more troop came from behind, snatching the kids from you and Nat, who had helped you after seeing what happened with the girl. The agents gather the children up and poured gasoline around them. You thought they were bluffing, even after earlier, you didn't think they would destroy all those experiments at least. You all stared as one man lit a match and smiled as he dropped it.

You where half a mile from them so by the time you all got there the flames were raging at 9 feet from the ground, still climbing.

Even in this state, Hulk knew that Steve and Tony would rush in to save them even though they'd probably due doing it, so he grabbed them and held them both in a huge bear hug making sure they couldn't escape. What he didn't account for was you.

You knew it was stupid, but you couldn't just watch them die. The rest of the team started to turn around, silently admitting defeat, but you didn't. You watched the daunting inferno, towering over you, growing, engulfing trees with the children. You ran into the blaze, covering your face with your arms. You rushed around checking the bodies, searching for any sign of life, until you saw an arm reach out. You bolted over to the girl, only slightly spared because of all the other's corpses piled on top of her, partly shielding her from the flames. You life's the bodies off of her and cradled her in your arms as you ran out of the fire.

Your teammates, your friends were terrified when they saw you run straight into fire. Every second you staying there the more they worried. They clung to the hope that you might come out, you had to.

When they saw you burst through the flames they all breathed a sigh of relief. They say you hold the girl and rushed over to you. Thor took her from your arms and the moment you let her go you collapsed. The last thing you saw was Steve hovering over you.

They saw you fall to the ground, mirroring the vulture girl from earlier. Steve pushed his way out of the Hulk's grip and rushed to your side. He picked you limp body up in his arms and rushed you to the quinjet, to which the others followed quick behind.

At 1:37 am Thor placed the girl onto the on-board med bay. They checked her over on the flight home, sustaining her for the time being and keeping her breathing. The whole time Steve held you in his arms and stared at the scrape, cuts, bruises and... burns that littered your body. The fire had burned through your suit, scorching your skin on your legs, abdomen and back mostly. Those were the worst ones. He stared at the burn that climbed from your neck, up your cheek. It captured a small amount of you hairline and crept it's way to your eye. He could see what looked like little tendrils of scarred skin creeping over the outer corner of your right eye. He ghosted his fingers over it feeling the raised skin, tears pricking at his eyes as you still hadn't moved.

Steve lowered you onto the med bay bed and Bruce checked you over, however hopeless it may seem. Steve held your hand, his glassy eyes not leaving your closed ones for a moment. Bruce inhaled deeply and looked over and the man at your bedside, wishing he didn't have to say what he was about to.

'I'm sorry' he started 'she doesn't have a pulse and she isn't breathing'.

No one said anything, the rest of the team stood around you praying that they heard him wrong.

Natasha walked over to the corner and sunk onto the floor, folding in on herself. Clint tilted his head back, resting it on the wall as a stared at the ceiling. Thor punched a wall of the quinjet, almost breaking straight through. Tony looked down and walked away, his guilty thoughts starting to take over. 'What if I had thought about lead? Then she'd still be alive'.

Everyone was choking back tears, they'd lost one of the most important people in their lives. The person who made them laugh with some of the most stupid jokes known to man. The person who taught them new training techniques, even when they thought they knew them all by now. The person that made them their favourite meal when they were feeling down. The person who nursed them back to health when they were sick. The person who somehow could always get them the best gifts come the holidays. The person who comforted them no matter what. The person that they relied on to be their rock.

You were just gone, and all by 3:00 am.

Tags:

@impetusofadream

@goldfishthegr8

@avengers-official-recruit-agent

@goreygirl03

@xenasolos

@sparklyturtlefox

@rios-sythe