#(bc he's supposed to solve all her problems) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mimiiiiiiiiisstuff · 5 months ago

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"This is me trying"

Prologue.

ok yall!! so i'm in a bit of writers block for IBDL and the older AU after tumblr deleted the chpaters I spent days writing. Butttt I did come up with this, reader is still neglected bc she can never be happy, but it's a darker Mafia Au. This also sucks bc it also got deleted but i really wanted to post something and get feeback on this concept. This is the prologue! Hope yall enjoy! Likes, asks, reblogs, and comments make my day and encourage me to write more. Send in aks!!

TW: BRIEF SA, IF IT TRIGGERS YOU, DONT READ!

The Wayne Manor was a sprawling gothic monstrosity perched on the edge of the Gotham skyline, a dark and looming silhouette against the backdrop of a city that never truly slept. It was a place where secrets festered, where power and control were everything, and where the lives of the people within its walls revolved around wealth, influence, and fear. For the people who lived in it, this was home. For you? It was a prison.The Wayne family was Gotham's most powerful mafia family, maybe even in all of North America, an empire built on crime, manipulation, and ruthless control. At the top of it all was Bruce Wayne, the cold and calculating godfather. Your actual father. Beneath him, each of his children had their role to play. But you, his biological daughter, were no more than a ghost within the house. You were a byproduct of a two-night stand with a whore, as your family called her, that had long since faded into shadows, and your presence was barely tolerated by the very people who were supposed to be your family.

At least, that’s how it felt after nearly a decade of living here.

You had arrived at Wayne Manor when you were just seven years old, dragged from the wreckage of your mother’s overdose by a man who was nothing more than a stranger. Bruce Wayne—cold, distant, and unforgiving. A man who ruled over the city with an iron fist and a heart as cold as the marble floors beneath your feet. He wasn’t your father, he never had been. He had simply become the man who was tasked with your care, but that wasn’t much of a care at all. Bruce’s love had always been reserved for the empire he had built, not you. You were merely another complication in his already fractured world. He told you that your mother had left you, that you were his responsibility now, and that you needed to prove you were worthy of the Wayne name. A name that, for the longest time, had been nothing but an empty echo in your mind.

Your mother was your hero, a military hero who realized how fucked up America was and retired. She, like most veterans, got hooked on drugs but that didn't mean she loved you any less. When she died, she took your happiest parts with her.

“Prove you deserve the last name Wayne,” Bruce had said when you were first brought into the manor, his eyes hard, his tone colder than the mansion’s marble floors. He’d looked at you like you were nothing but another part of the vast empire he controlled, a problem to be solved, a name to be earned.

And that’s what you did. You worked. You tried to prove yourself, to be a part of this family—this business. But it didn’t matter. You were invisible to them, a shadow in the background of the Wayne Empire. A ghost that haunted the halls of a mansion that never felt like home.

The moment he had taken you in, he’d told you to keep your head down. "Wayne’s don’t cry. Wayne’s don’t show weakness," he had said, his tone dead and devoid of any warmth. You couldn’t even remember the last time he’d spoken to you unless it was to reprimand or scold you for something minor. You learned quickly that to Bruce, you didn’t exist.

He was the head of the Wayne Mafia and Wayne enterprise, the mastermind who controlled everything from the shadows. He was feared, respected, and never showed weakness. He wasn't your father. He was your boss, distant, cold, and authoritarian. To him, you were nothing. He barely acknowledged you unless you were needed for some mafia-related task, which was almost never. You were neglected in the deepest way possible, emotionally invisible, yet physically present only when it was required.

You learned early on that any attempt to gain his affection was futile. He was too busy running his empire, and any sign of weakness—like wanting to be close to him—was met with disdain. His affection was reserved for his empire and all his other children.

At 15, you had spent eight years in the mansion without a single ounce of affection from him. You were a tool to him, nothing more. And yet, despite his coldness, you still wanted to earn his approval. You knew it was futile, but there was still something inside you that clung to the hope that one day, maybe, he’d look at you like he did the others. You became top of your class, played volleyball, did cheer, ballet, theatre, became student council president, won every award under the sun hoping he’d notice, that one day he’d show up at your award ceremony and bring your siblings. They’d all be grinning at you proudly, they’d make sure everyone knew you were part of the family, they’d let you sit with them at dinner and let you tell them about your most recent tennis match. But that was always a fantasy.

And maybe that was what broke you the most: knowing that he would never see you as a true part of the family.

Earning the Wayne name felt like a distant dream, like something only the others could ever attain. Bruce made it clear when you arrived at Wayne Manor was that you didn’t belong here yet. His blood ran cold when he looked at you, as though you were a mistake he’d have to clean up. There was no room for kindness, no words of comfort. Just a cold gaze, and then the hollow command to stay out of his way.

As you grew older, the cruelty only deepened, and it wasn’t just Bruce.

When Dick Grayson entered the scene, you were still just a child, struggling to make sense of your place in the mansion. He was everything Bruce wasn’t, charming, always smiling, and the golden boy of the family. The way he spoke to you, with that practiced air of kindness, made your skin crawl.

But the smile he wore to the rest of the world was never the one he gave you. The moment the doors closed behind you two, that smile would disappear, replaced with a smirk that spoke volumes. His jokes about you, his casual jabs, it was like nothing you did would ever be good enough. He was always pushing you, always finding ways to make you feel small.

“You know, if you weren’t so weak, Bruce might actually notice you,” Dick would say as he walked by, his eyes flicking over you like you were nothing more than a nuisance. "But don’t worry. Maybe you’ll prove yourself one day. Maybe.”

His words, though they came with a laugh, always carried the sharp edge of cruelty.

The eldest of the children, the perfect golden boy, the one who could do no wrong in Bruce’s eyes. Dick was no different than the rest. As a leader of a section of the family’s operations, he was a busy man. He had his own goals and ambitions, and when it came to you, he cruel.

To Dick, you were a lost cause, someone who wasn't worth the effort, the butt of the joke. While he didn't mock you as often as Damian or Jason, he certainly didn’t love you, he didn't even like you. He was more likely to ignore you entirely, but if you caught him in a bad mood.........He never tried to be a big brother, and in moments when you needed comfort, he’d either brush you off or simply laugh at you and make you feel worse.

Damian—Bruce’s biological son. Your little brother who seemed to have it all. The heir to the throne, groomed for greatness, your father's love. It wasn’t hard to see the resentment and hatred in his eyes whenever you crossed paths. At 13, Damian was already a lethal force, training under the most dangerous men in the world. But what you hated most about him was that, despite the bitterness, he always seemed to find ways to put you down.

your younger half-brother, was the perfect assassin in training, and he hated you. He hated how you existed in his space, how you took up time and energy that could have been spent on his training. To him, you were a nuisance, a shadow in his way. He didn't care about family bonds or affection. You were just the member of the household that didn’t belong.

Damian's cold demeanor was the product of years of indoctrination into the Wayne family’s brutal world. He was protective of the family, of Bruce’s approval, so any sign of weakness or attachment from you only made him more disgusted. He’d learned to use violence as a way to control people, but when it came to you, he was especially harsh, never lifting a finger to defend you, but constantly mocking, hurting, and ridiculing you, making you feel small and insignificant.

Damian never missed a chance to make cruel remarks about you, as though any attempt at closeness with you would be seen as weakness.

"You're nothing more than a distraction," Damian would sneer as he walked past you, his green eyes glowing with disdain. "Father is wasting time on you. You’ll never be one of us."

His words sliced through you like a blade, and it only made the ache of rejection burn deeper.

Tim was the one who ignored you the most. He had a sharp intellect, a mind for strategy, and an indifference to almost everyone around him, including you. You had tried to talk to him once, hoping for some sort of connection, you were around the same age after all, but he just stared through you as though you weren’t there.

When he did speak, it was never pleasant.

"Could you be quieter for once?" he snapped one evening, his gaze never leaving his laptop screen. "Some of us are trying to work."

It was a pattern, one that left you feeling invisible, like you didn’t even exist in his world. On rare occasions, when he was in a particularly bad mood, he’d throw a cutting remark your way, something meant to remind you that you were just a nuisance in his eyes.

"You think you’re important just because you’re here?" Tim would sneer. "Get over yourself. You’ll never be more than a side character."

The family’s strategist, and tech genius, was the quietest of the bunch. Tim was obsessed with perfection, everything had to be meticulously planned. When it came to you, he was condescending. He believed you were too naïve, too soft for the harsh world they lived in. It was clear that he didn’t consider you part of the family in a meaningful way. To him, you were just another piece in the game, and you were never treated like an equal.

Tim would lecture you about what you should be doing, constantly putting you down in subtle ways that made you question your worth.

Jason was the worst of all, next to Damian of course. Where the others merely ignored you or made snide comments, Jason was outright cruel. He made it clear that he didn’t want you here from the moment you arrived. He’d watch you with a sneer on his face, like you were something he had to tolerate rather than a part of the family.

“Do you ever stop being pathetic?” Jason growled one night, cornering you in the hallway. He was older than you—by eight years—and his presence was always overwhelming, his anger like a shadow that clung to him wherever he went. “You’re nothing but a waste of space. Bruce should’ve left you on the streets where you belong.”

You could never forget that night. The venom in his words, the way he towered over you with that sick, twisted smile that barely concealed the disgust he felt for you—it stayed with you, festering in your mind.

Your older brother, was once a wild and rebellious soul, but after his brutal experience with the Joker, he became even more distant. He had built walls around himself, and those walls excluded you. To him, you were nothing more than a symbol of the dysfunction that ran through the Wayne family. He didn’t care about you, he resented you for simply existing.

Whenever he interacted with you, it was laced with sarcasm and cruelty. He would always mock you in front of the others, tearing down your self-esteem at every opportunity. Your attempts to reach out to him were met with disgust, and sometimes even attacks. If you tried to talk to him about anything personal, he’d brush you off with an eye roll or sarcastic comment.

He was a silent witness to your pain, and he didn't care to acknowledge it.

The girls—Steph, Cass, and Barbara—were no better.

Stephanie would occasionally feign interest in you, only to turn it into a mocking session. "You really think Bruce cares about you?" she’d ask with a smirk. "He just likes having more bodies around to do his bidding. And you? You’re nothing but a backup plan, a mistake."

Cass, though quieter, was no less cruel. She had a way of looking at you as if you were beneath her, like you didn’t even deserve to breathe the same air. Her silence was more suffocating than any words could be.

Barbara, though, was the most calculating. She used her intelligence to manipulate, twisting everything into a game of control. She’d often mock you in front of the others, making it feel like you were a joke.

“Do you really think you’ll ever be anything but Bruce’s charity case?” she asked one day, her voice laced with sarcasm. "You’ll never be one of us. Don’t kid yourself.”

They were mean in every sense of the word, they made fun of your looks, your weight, your height, they gave you insecurities you never would’ve thought of.

Alfred, the Wayne family’s butler, was perhaps the only one who ever showed any genuine care, but even that was limited. Alfred's soft-spoken nature meant he was there for you, but he was more like a caretaker than a father figure. He was more interested in making sure you were fed, safe, and well taken care of, but he never pushed against Bruce or the others to make sure you were emotionally okay. Alfred was loyal to the family and followed Bruce’s commands, no matter how cruel they were.

And then there was Duke.

Duke, the one who never even seemed to acknowledge your existence. He was polite—always saying "hello" when he passed by, but that was the extent of it. He didn’t hate you. He didn’t love you. He just… ignored you. It was almost worse than anything the others did. At least when they made fun of you, you existed to them.

But Duke? He acted as if you weren’t even in the room.

In the end, you were just a shadow in Wayne Manor. There was no love here, no family. Just a constant, searing reminder that you didn’t belong.

You were nothing. You were nobody.

But you’d change that. You had to. You had to prove yourself worthy of the Wayne name. Even if it meant enduring their cruelty.

Because deep down, you knew that in a family built on power and fear, only the strongest survived.

And maybe, just maybe, you could become something more.

At Gotham Academy, you were untouchable.

There was no other way to put it. You were awkward and lonely in middle school but that changed as soon as you hit puberty in high school. Suddenly you were the girl everyone wanted to be or be with. Effortless grace and charm, the kind of girl who seemed to have it all together. You were the captain of the cheer team, the student body president, the girl who could throw a party, lead a project, and still ace every test. The guys chased after you with varying levels of persistence, but none of them knew who you really were. They didn’t know you were a Wayne.

They didn’t know you were just a forgotten child in the massive, shadowed halls of Wayne Manor.

At school, you were alive. Teachers fawned over you, praising your work ethic, your achievements, and your positive attitude. "Your essays are brilliant," Mrs. Summers would say, always raising her eyebrow in surprise when she saw your name at the top of the page. "You never fail to impress, your parents must be proud." You smiled, the words coming easily, just as they always did. The praise felt good, almost like an escape from the emptiness that waited for you when you returned to Wayne Manor.

But the truth was, you were dying for something real, something that made you feel seen at home.

When school let out, you gathered your things, avoiding the usual parade of admirers by slipping through the back doors of the school to your waiting car. Today, there was no stopping the swarm of boys who followed you from class to class. Josh from the football team had been practically suffocating you all day with his relentless compliments, while Lucas, the track star, was constantly finding excuses to "study" with you. Both of them seemed to think your "no" was just another challenge. But despite their attention, you were still the one who didn’t belong.

Because once you left Gotham Academy, once you stepped into Wayne Manor, you were nobody.

Bruce never cared to acknowledge your presence, let alone make you feel like part of the family. He was always wrapped up in his business empire or his “other life,” never bothering to check in on you. The closest thing you had to a father was Alfred, the ever-loyal butler, who was the only one who seemed to care about you. But even his affection was distant, a courtesy reserved for a child who didn’t quite fit.

Damian, Tim, Stephanie, and Duke all attended Gotham Prep, the elite school for Gotham’s privileged. Bruce had never bothered enrolling you there, and you wondered, sometimes, if it was because you weren’t good enough, weren’t worth the effort.

And yet, despite their indifference, you longed to be seen by them. Maybe if you earned their respect, earned Bruce’s approval, they would start noticing you.

But it was always the same: emptiness.

The one place you could truly escape to was Grace's house. Grace was your best friend, your sister in every way that mattered. She was the one who saw the real you, the one who didn’t care about your last name or your family’s wealth. She was the only one who knew you were the unwanted daughter of Gothams most infamous mobster. She accepted you as you were: a girl who was as talented as she was misunderstood.

At Grace’s house, you felt alive. It was a normal, cozy home, filled with laughter and love, the kind of place that had never been offered to you at Wayne Manor. Her parents treated you like their own daughter, and her two older brothers—Isaac and Nathan—had taken to protecting you like you were their little sister. Her youngest brother, James annoyed you as much as he did Grace and somehow, you loved him for it. It was nice being a big sister to someone who was actually normal and didn't try to kill you all the time.

Grace’s oldest brother, Daniel, was another story, he treated you like a sister even though you've had a crush on him since you were 10.

You flirted with him constantly. It wasn’t anything serious, but Daniel had a way of making your heart race in a way that the boys at Gotham Academy never could. He was a older than you, maybe 21, with a confident charm that made him irresistible. Tall, blonde, jacked, he was the perfect All-American boy. You knew he wasn’t ever going to see you as anything more that a little sister but that didn’t stop you from trying. Every time he walked into the room, your heart did a little skip, and you couldn’t help but turn into a blushing mess. Grace teased you endlessly for it. Daniel was your first ever crush and that feeling would never really go away, no matter how much you saw him or how sisterly he treated you.

Most nights, you stayed over at Grace's. It became a regular tradition—weekends spent in her house, sprawled out on her couch for movie marathons, stealing her clothes, gossiping about school, and stealing snacks from her kitchen. You loved it there. You could forget about Wayne Manor, forget about the neglect and the loneliness, and just be a normal teenager. You came over for Thanksgiving, your birthday, and for Christmas they even had a stocking with your name on it.

One night, after a particularly grueling practice, Grace invited you to another sleepover at her house. As usual, you packed a bag with the essentials, pajamas, a change of clothes, and your phone, just in case. You already had most things at her house, you practically lived with her at this point. The moment you arrived, Grace’s dad, Thomas, greeted you with a warm hug, his hearty laugh filling the room. “Here comes trouble!” he said, ruffling your hair in that easy-going way he did every time you showed up.

You felt the pang of longing for a real family, but you pushed it away, embracing the warmth of the moment. You wanted to be part of this family, a normal family.

Grace’s siblings were equally welcoming. Nathan tossed you a snack and winked. “You ready to get your ass kicked at Mario Kart again?” he teased, knowing full well that you were unbeatable.

James groaned "I knew I smelled another loser walk in" You gasped dramatically and put him into a headlock, ruffling his hair till he apologized.

As the night went on, and you all sat around Grace’s kitchen table, laughing and joking, you couldn't shake the feeling that your life at Wayne Manor, and the family that barely looked at you, was a shadow that still loomed over your heart.

But then, as if to prove that life couldn’t just be simple for you, the front door of Grace’s house swung open, and your phone buzzed in your pocket. You glanced at it, your stomach dropping as you saw the name.

Alfred.

You knew what it meant. You couldn't sleep over tonight. Bruce was having people over and you had to be there in case the guests asked about you. Another night where you'd sit at the table in the maids kitchen, listening to your family get along without you. Pretending that Bruce’s absence didn’t eat away at you, didn't make you feel less than. You ignored his message. You didn't want to go home, really the guests never even knew Bruce had a biological daughter, they wouldn't ask about you. This was just Alfred's way of trying to make the family bond with you.

It was always the same. Bruce only ever reached out when he needed you for something, when his empire demanded your presence. But never for the reason you truly needed. Not for affection. Not for love.

You stood up abruptly, suddenly feeling suffocated by the laughter and warmth of Grace’s home. You didn’t want to leave. Didn’t want to go back to the place that always made you feel so… alone. But you had to. You had no choice. You already ignored Alfred's text long enough, you missed dinner so you had to get home or else Bruce might actually kill you, if he even noticed you weren't there.

No matter how far you ran, how many awards you won, or how many boys followed you around at school, the question remained: when would you finally be seen by the ones who mattered most?

That night, your prayers were answered, your bravery caught the entire family's attention just when you had gotten okay with their negligence, began to enjoy doing whatever you wanted from the shadows.

The rain was fucking relentless.

It hammered down from the heavens, soaking you to the bone as you walked through the backstreets of Gotham. The kind of rain that made you feel like you were being baptized in cold, dirty water. You pulled the hood of your jacket up, not that it did a damn thing to keep you dry. The city’s grimy streets were slick with water, reflecting the neon lights like a damn funhouse mirror. You kept your head down, trying to ignore the chill creeping through your clothes.

Grace’s house had been a brief escape from the cold, suffocating grip of Wayne Manor. For a few hours, you’d felt like a person again. Like someone who could actually live, instead of just existing as a piece of forgotten furniture in the mansion. But that was before Alfred had texted. Before you saw his name flash across your screen, making your stomach twist in a knot.

"Shit," you muttered under your breath, shoving the phone back into your pocket. Not today. Not now. You needed more time before you went back to that suffocating place. But you knew it wasn’t a choice. Bruce would be pissed, and when Bruce Wayne was pissed? Everyone knew about it.

Still, you had to push forward. It was Gotham, after all. A rainstorm in this city could mean anything from a mugging to a full-on shootout. Every step felt heavier as you neared the looming silhouette of Wayne Manor. The mansion stood there like some kind of ancient titan, always watching, always waiting, and never giving a damn about who you were.

The door creaked open, and you slipped inside, trying to make as little noise as possible. Maybe you’d get lucky and Bruce would be too busy with whatever the hell was going on to notice you sneaking in.

Fat chance.

The foyer was dark, and the mansion smelled like dust and expensive wood polish. You should have felt comforted by the familiarity, but instead, all you could feel was that gnawing sense of isolation. The Manor had always felt like a prison to you, and not the kind you could escape with a couple of well-timed sprints or clever words. This was a cage built with stone and glass, and you were stuck inside it.

You started down the hallway, the faint sound of voices growing louder as you passed the dining room.

And then you stopped. Something in the air changed. The hairs on your neck stood up. You were too close to the dining hall, and the moment you looked in through the door, your breath hitched in your chest.

There, at the long grand dining table, sat your family—or, well, what was left of them. Every one of them was slumped forward, tied to their chairs with ropes, blood trickling from their ears, noses, and mouths. The first thing you noticed was that no one was moving. No one was breathing. They all looked... dead.

Bruce. Damian. Jason. Dick. Tim. Cass. Duke. Steph. Barbra, even Alfred was slumped over in the corner where he usually kept watch. All of them.

Your stomach dropped to your feet as you backed away slowly. This was not happening.

“No fucking way,” you breathed out, stepping back, trying to backpedal before anyone heard you. But your mind was already working overtime. Who did this? Why?

The answer came quickly. It didn’t take much to put two and two together. The guests, it had to be them. The rich assholes who had “business” with Bruce. Except now, you were figuring out that the business they were conducting didn’t involve any stock markets or deals. It was murder.

And then the realization hit: whoever these people were, they weren’t here for some petty robbery. They’d been in the house long enough to take down the entire family without a sound.

Fuck.

Your mind went blank. For a second, you thought you were dreaming. But no, this was real. And this was not happening.

You were about to turn on your heel and haul ass out of there, but that’s when you heard it. Footsteps. Heavy footsteps. Two of them, moving fast, and definitely not the quiet kind. The air around you felt thicker. The kind of thick that made your skin crawl.

You darted to the side, taking cover behind a marble pillar. From the sound of it, someone was coming this way. Your heart pounded in your chest as you held your breath, praying to God they didn’t notice you.

You needed to leave. Now. Run. Go.

But just as you turned, desperate to bolt before anyone saw you, you froze.

Footsteps. Heavy, deliberate, and moving fast.

There was no time to think, you stayed hidden watching them walk around the room. They were wearing crisp black suits, and all three looked like they shopped in the"Big and tall" section. There was no way you could fight off all three, yeah you had some muscle but nothing like Jason or even Tim. Even Bruce would break a sweat facing these guys. They seemed to be checking Bruce's pockets right now, looking for something.

While they were distracted, you took deep breathes, trying to calm down. Who the fuck were these people? How did they manage to trick the infamous Wayne Family? What did they want? How could you get out of this and save your family?

Did you even want to save your family?

You shook the thought away quickly; of course you wanted to save them, they were cruel and horrible but who were you to decide their fate without trying to help them? Who made you judge, jury, and executioner?

Then you saw it, Bruce's emergency button, hidden on the wall. Only noticeable to someone who's wandered these halls for years. You almost fell to your knees in relief as you sneakily crawled over to it and pressed it.

Help was on the way and the intruders didn't know you were here! You smiled feeling pure relief at your quick thinking.

How's that for useless huh Damian? You wanted to taunt him as you looked at his unconsious form. He was so much better this way, they all were. They were silent.

Then, you heard it, the loud blaring of alarms and sirens. "Emergency." "Emergency." Alfred's voice rang through the whole manor and the sirens alerted the men that you were in the dining room.

You groaned, eyes burning with tears, "Who's the fucking dumbass that made the silent alarm LOUD?"

The men came rushing into the dining room yet it seemed to be your lucky-unlucky day. Only one of them had a gun.

Time seemed to slow as he aimed it at Bruce's soon to be lifeless head. You don't know what came over you as you tackled Bruce's unconscious body out of the bullets way.

You regretted it as soon as you did it, your vision went white with pain as the bullet hit you shoulder.

You pushed through the pain and grabbed a butter knife as one of the unarmed men approached you. You punched and ducked but the pain slowed you down. He hit you hard right in the ribs, so you did him one better and gouged his right eye out with your butter knife. Those boxing classes really did do some good, no wonder your mom insisted on them.

More shots rang out and it was out of pure adreneline that you were able to pull almost each and every member of your family under the table. Damian was the only one left and as you stood to pull him down too, you saw the armed man pull the trigger of his gun. He was going to kill your baby brother, he was aiming at the 14 year old's head. No matter how cruel or vicious Damian was, he's still a child, still your little brother.

You couldn't let him die. Maybe that's why you threw your self on top of his body, protecting him from the two bullets aimed at him.

Fuck.

This hurt. No wonder people hated being shot. This hurt more than cheer warm ups, did you think you were bulletproof?

You decided that you would just allow the next person to be shot. The man's footsteps were coming closer and you were getting more light headed from the pain. You turned to Jason's unconscious body and punched him. "Wake up you fucking loser! I can't fight this guy."

Obviously, Jason didn't wake up, why did you even think anyone in this family would ever try and help you?

As you shook him and panicked even more, you noticed something shining in Bruce's pocket. So much for "No weapons at the dinner table."

A sleek black gun, any other day you would've marveled at the custom design on it and focused on the monograming, but right now all that mattered was getting it before you bled out and the man killed you. You crawled and those five steps felt like eternity and when you finally grabbed the gun out of Bruce's armani suit pocket, the scary man was standing above you with a cruel grin.

Your heart dropped as he knelt next to you and stroked your hair, "Hey, pretty." He breathed out as he knelt next to you, his hands wandering around your body and up your skirt. Bile rose to your mouth and your heart dropped. No. This isn't happening. "If I had know Bruce had such a pretty thing, I would've been come here. You're certainly the looker compared to your sisters." He said as he began smelling your hair.

You don't know how it happened, but suddenly he was laying on the floor with blood coming out his throat. You looked between your hand holding the gun and his now lifeless body in horror. The last thing you heard before passing out was a flurry of boots and gunshots and a man that sounded like your father yelling for a doctor. The last thing you saw was a tall boy lifting you up, his eyes as blue as the sky, and you genuinely believed you died and went to heaven.

The room was cold, sterile, a sharp contrast to the emotional storm raging inside you. The pain in your shoulder and stomach was nothing compared to the weight on your chest, the realization that no matter what, you couldn’t escape this life anymore. You had made your choice, whether you liked it or not.

You woke to the soft beeping of machines and the scent of antiseptic in the air, your vision still blurry. It didn’t take long for the footsteps to reach you—slow, deliberate. The door creaked open, and one by one, they walked in.

Dick entered first, his expression calm but unreadable. His gaze lingered on you for a moment, and instead of his usual mocking smile, there was something more restrained about him now. The newfound respect he had for you was obvious, but there was a subtle weight behind it. He didn’t say much, just gave you a nod.

“You’re still breathing, that's good,” he said softly, his voice low, a simple acknowledgment. “We all owe you for that. For what you did.” The words weren’t a compliment, they were recognition, quiet and heavy. The respect was there, but so was the unspoken truth: You were one of them now.

You expected to feel happier. You imagined this day so many times before, you prayed for it, so why were you sick to your stomach now that it's happened? Why didn't you want it anymore and why hadn't you realized it till now?

Damian was next, stepping in with his usual, stoic expression. His eyes flicked over you briefly, but there was no anger in his gaze, only a quiet understanding, maybe even admiration, hidden beneath the surface. He didn’t bother with pleasantries.

“Your actions saved all of us,” he said, voice flat. “You’ve earned your place here. Just don’t forget it.” His words weren’t harsh, but there was no room for doubt. You had proved yourself. And that meant something far more permanent than any spoken affirmation could express.

Ungrateful brat. You took a bullet for him and he couldn't even thank you. God, you hated him. You were starting to wish you weren't a good person and let them all die. The inheritance would've been insane.

Jason followed suit, and though his rough edges remained, there was a faint softness in his expression as he looked at you.

“Damn, princess,” he muttered, his eyes scanning you with quiet intensity. “You really pulled through. You did what most of us couldn’t.” His gaze softened for just a moment, and then he leaned against the doorframe. “Didn't realize I had such a badass as a little sister. The knife move, the way you ducked and punched? Sick."

Jason, of all people, was praising you. Treating you like his sister rather than dirt at the bottom of his shoe. The nickname, princess, he once used to ridicule you, was said with a quiet revrance; like he actually thought you were a princess now. You couldn't help but feel good, this was all you wanted all these years. And in that moment, you would get shot again without hesitation if it meant you would get that everyday.

Tim entered next, and though his face was stoic, his eyes betrayed the flicker of respect, maybe even admiration. “We all saw it,” he said, his voice steady, but tinged with something quieter. “What you did… It wasn’t just about surviving. It was about protecting us. You earned the right to stand beside us. We all thank you.”

Well, it's not great but at least someone is appreciative. None of them would've done the same for you.

Cass entered, silent as always, but the look she gave you spoke volumes. She didn’t need to say anything—her eyes, sharp and understanding, told you that she saw your sacrifice, saw what you had done for them. She gave you a slight nod, acknowledging your place among them.

Then Duke and Stephanie stepped in.

Duke’s eyes were calm, but you could see the flicker of something more behind his gaze. The weight of what had happened didn’t escape him. His voice was steady as he spoke.

“You did what we couldn’t,” he said, his tone quiet but unshakable. “You kept us alive. All of us. And that means something. You’ve earned your place in this family.” His eyes softened, just the slightest bit. “Just don’t forget... that this family doesn’t leave anyone behind. Not anymore.”

And then there was Stephanie. Her usual energy was gone, replaced with something more somber. She didn’t crack a joke or make a snide remark. Her eyes scanned you with something like respect, but more than that, a quiet understanding that you’d been forced to prove yourself in ways none of them had ever been asked you to.

“Guess you really are one of us now,” she said softly, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, but it wasn’t lighthearted. It was tired. “I don’t know about you, but I’m glad you’re still here.” Her voice wavered slightly, but she pulled herself together quickly. “You’ve got our backs. We’ve got yours.”

Barbra stood next to her in agreement, looking hesitant to say something. She was the only one who noticed how much you resented them even though you were desperate for their love and approval.

What. The. Fuck.

No way this is happening. This is not real. Who knew saving someone's life could have them do a complete 180. Stephanie said she had your back. Duke acknowledged your existence. Jason didn't make you cry. Damian didn't attempt to kill or maim you. It's like the sky turned pink.

Finally, Bruce.

He stepped into the room, his presence overwhelming. The familiar weight of his gaze was on you immediately, but today there was something different—something almost proud in the way he looked at you, as if he finally saw you as more than just a forgotten name in the Wayne family history.

He was quiet for a moment, his hands folded in front of him. And then he spoke, his voice steady, unyielding, but carrying an undertone of something that almost felt like respect. “You did more than survive. You saved our lives. Every single one of us.” His eyes didn’t leave you. “You’re part of this family now. You’ve earned it. You earned the name Wayne.”

The words hit you harder than anything else. Part of the family.

It was like a weight dropping onto your chest—something heavy, something that couldn’t be easily brushed away. There was no turning back. You were one of them now, and that scared you, you hadn’t anticipated that.

Bruce’s eyes softened, just slightly, but his voice remained firm. “From this moment forward, you have a curfew. Midnight. You may have earned your place here, but you’ll follow the rules, just like the rest of us.”

You didn’t say anything. How could you? His words settled into your chest like stone, the finality of them carving out any space for protest. There was no choice in the matter. You were in this life now, whether you wanted to be or not. Midnight was late for a curfew anyway, Grace had to be home by 9.

“We all owe you our lives,” Bruce continued, but there was no gratitude in his tone, only a recognition of the debt. “But that doesn’t mean you’re exempt from the responsibilities we carry. Understand?”

You nodded once, slowly, the words caught in your throat. You wanted to speak, wanted to scream, to tell him that you weren’t sure you could do this, that you didn’t know if you were ready to live this life—the life of a Wayne, the life of this family.

What did a mafia family even do? Did you run around being Bruce's useless henchman, or did you have to go around trying to kill people? Could they be more specific about the pros and cons?

But nothing came out. There was nothing you could say that would change anything now.

Jason gave you a crooked grin,“Guess you’ve got to start following the rules now, huh? Welcome to the real family business.”

Tim’s gaze lingered for a moment, his eyes unreadable. “We’re all in this together,” he said quietly. “Whether you like it or not.”

Damian’s face softened, but only slightly. “I expect you to keep up,” he added, before turning to leave. “No slacking. We all carry our weight in this family.”

Cass’s presence remained, her silent approval almost suffocating in its quiet intensity.

Duke gave you one last nod before he turned, the weight of his gaze a reminder that you couldn’t slip out of this, no matter how much you might want to. He wasn’t angry—just silently resolute in his understanding. “You’re one of us now. That means something.”

And Stephanie? Her eyes lingered on you for a moment longer, before she gave you a small, tired smile. “We’re with you. All the way.”

Bruce? He gave you one last look, his eyes still holding that rare spark of approval—but it wasn’t soft. It wasn’t warm. It was measured, like a general overseeing a soldier. You were part of the mission now.

“We’ll train,” he said, his voice unwavering. “We’ll teach you everything you need to know. But it’s clear you’ve already proven yourself.”

You lay back against the pillows, the silence that followed hanging heavy in the air.

This is so weird. Why are they all being nice? How do you react to it? How do you interact with them? Is it genuine gratitude for saving their lives or is it a cruel joke to make you feel like you're important.

As they left, one by one, you stayed there, immobilized by the weight of it all. You’d earned your place here. But what did that mean now? What did it mean to be part of this family? You weren’t sure you even wanted it. But it was too late to turn back now.

OK YALL HERES THE PROLOGUE!! LMK WHAT YALL THINK AND HOW I SHOULD/ IF I SHOULD CONTINUE THIS FIC!!! HOPE YALL ENJOYED!! SEND IN ASKS! SORRY IF IT SUCKS LEAVE ME ALONE!!

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kyri45 · 6 months ago

Text

✨ShadowPeach Bio Parents Bio AU Q&A! 23/12✨

Welcome to the Q&A! A space where I can answer related or similar question about the Shadowpeach Bio Parents AU! If you submitted your ask anonimously, then you’ll have to check the whole post if it’s answered here, if it’s not, worry not! Your asks might have been used for a future comic or just in the queue~

@boonalina ha chiesto: Question: Why does Wukong's biblically accurate form have two faces? Also, was there some inspiration for you that made you want to design him like that? (Since I know he doesn't have any canonical Kaiju form in LMK) Also also, DAMN that Kaiju fight was so freaking pretty!! The colors were so well done!

thank you!! He has 3 actually, but in the panels you can see 2 bc the third is facing away from the camera aha.

Anonimo ha chiesto: would you make a Shadowpeach bio parents au zine?

yes I would. But it requires an enormeous amount of organization, plus you need multiple people to organize a zine, from contacting, to marketing, to production, to logistic etc… I don’t have the time right now as I’m already working.

@stro-lmk-enjoyer ha chiesto: Head canon that Red Son uses/used to use the ‘rubber duck’ method while working. The rubber duck method is: when making something by yourself you may get stuck/stressed out because you can’t find a solution to a problem. Have a rubber duck on your desk just so you can verbally explain your problem, which could help you solve it by actually hearing it out loud. But a side effect of this is now Red Son will talk to himself while he works, even if it does help it still freaks his parents out hearing him mumbling to himself when they pass his room. Just something I learned recently when watching a video about writing a characters backstory 👍 I thought you might like this too! Bye <3

i know need Red Son just talking about project to a cute rubber duck and MK finding it adorable.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Will LBD come back ? Even if it is just in a dream ?

maybe

Anonimo ha chiesto: how old is MK ? Like 18-21 ???

almost 22.

@haru7110 ha chiesto: IS MEI IMMORTAL LIKE MK AND REDSON IN THE SHADOWPEACH AU??? I NEED TO KNOW!! Fornoreasonwhatsoeverobviouslyhahahahaha (angst purposes)

no Mei is not immortal, but I would guess she has a lifespan slightly longer than average bc of her family.

@cutvdo ha chiesto: When you first draw Red Son in his human form he looked small, but later he looks bigger (probably from you getting more comfortable drawing him). I like to think he changed his human form a bit because he found out MK likes big man

this is the best conclusion ever. He would fr fr

Anonimo ha chiesto: Guess you could say MK got his own personal monkey tree

omfg-

@aizieweex ha chiesto: Hey Kyri!!! I LOVE your art, aaaand thanks for the recent repost of my animatic (or animatik?...I honestly don't know which is more correct, I'm not a native speaker at all), I literally screamed, lol (And still screaming). I wanted to ask, how many parts of the comic are you counting on? Do you already have a certain planned number of chapters? Anonimo ha chiesto: Hello! How long will the shadow peach bio parents au be?

there will be 9 parts in total. I don’t know the exact number of chapters left but I can assume around 30.

@copyrightedbystarkindustries ha chiesto: Love your art!!! Are you planning on putting shadowpeach au stuff on your redbubble in the future?

Yes I do! But first I need to finish my job which will be more or less on the 20th of January.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Does MK use a glamour to hide some scars or something his parents aren’t supposed to find out about ?

yes

@twilight-bai-he ha chiesto: When you said during the livestream that MK will have a new outfit when he is magical girl, What do you mean by that ?

that he will eventually own a new outfit as “official outfit” let’s say. That isn’t his temporary fighting outfit he has now.

@magician-kitty ha chiesto: You think Mac will get more flustered now that Wukong’s more muscular thanks to all that weight lifting from the previous chapters?

a little bit yes.

@whotookfinn ha chiesto: Hey!! I’m absolutely in love with your art, it’s so beautiful and wonderful and IM OBSESSED. Anyway, I’m not sure if you’ve been asked this before, but who’s your favorite lmk character to draw?

macaque and Mk, they fluffy.

Anonimo ha chiesto: I HAVE A QUESTION! after your shadowpeach AU will be finished will you do other lmk Au????

nope.

@cjtuy ha chiesto: My question is about tang and pigsy are they married I've always wondered this

no they are not married, but it’s something they have been thought for a little bit. They known each other for years and got together for one. They know they work very well as a couple, and marriage would only be a more “official” way to show their union. It’s on their mind, maybe they will plan it in the near future

Anonimo ha chiesto: Have you seen that Brandon Roger's clip where he loses his kid? I can just imagine macaque going through that right now with mk being kidnapped. "Mothers adrenaline is kicking in!!" "have you seen my son, he's about this tall, clearly gay but we haven't had the talk" https://youtu.be/dJJUFrENZ_o?si=lbacsYlJr8XpaDQQ (this is the sound just in case)

LMAO I know that video by heart yes absolutely those would be the parents.

Anonimo ha chiesto: In the Bioparents AU, is Redson actually going to be able to court so Mk in the end after the whole celestial situation?

they will have time to do their stuff after the heaven shenanigans.

@ashmeertheimp ha chiesto: I hope you are having a lovely day/night and are healthy and well AND TYSM FOR THAT SPICYNOODLES KISS I LOVED IT AND MY HEART WAS ABOUT TO BURST! Anyway I was wondering if mk and Redson parents are gonna have quality time with there Nephew in spirt/potential son in law?

mm yes. Post heaven shenanigans but yes.

@cpazy ha chiesto: About that,

It means that Mac and MK's powers have to do with the moon cycle, like on a full moon they get stronger or something like that? And if there is an eclipse where the moon turns red, their powers would go out of control?

Yes, but the opposite. On a full moon they are weaker, while on a new moon they are stronger.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Hello! Not a question but I just love and ADORE your shadowpeach bio parents au! ❤️ Recently you had posted about LMK fic recommendations, I wanted to recommend "The Constellations Within Us" and it's sequel "Epilogue: Axis" (ongoing) by cloud_somersault on AO3. It's one of my favorite LMK/Shadowpeach fics! The writing and world building are stellar and it includes similar themes as the ones in your comic, like the themes of reconciliation, shadowpeach angst and repairing their friendship and their joint custod- I mean- mentorship of MK! It's a really good fic and I highly recommend giving it a read! https://archiveofourown.org/works/48308065 And again, love your comic so much! Have a great day! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

aaahhhh I will definetely check them out!

@astro-nomaly ha chiesto: Per ur Bio Parents AU, what happens when a courtnapping occurs, but the person getting napped isn’t actually into the courtnapper, and doesn’t want to be napped? Does courtnapping have a “leave whenever you want” clause or..? (I love ur au akshhenwb)

they are allowed to refuse anytime. If the kidnapper doesn’t allow the he’s a dick

@thecardboardbutterfly ha chiesto: Since everyone is starting to fear for tomorrow, I decided to share my convoluted thought I got yesterday night at like, 3AM to lighten the mood a bit (.3.)~* So Technically, given that Lmk is very much based on Journey to the West, maybe it's not that much of a stretch to call Lmk fan content of JTTW, like some kind of future AU or something. Which means your AU is fan content of Lmk. See where I'm getting at? Because your comic is so popular in the fandom, there is fan content of your AU out there, which is already fan content. Which means we reached a point where we have fan content (fanarts and various inspirations of the bio parents AU) of fan content (said bio parents AU) of fan content (Lmk) of a piece of content (JTTW). The chain is GETTING LONGER BOYS. I personally think it's funny. My apologies for everyone who lost their brain/ last remaining braincell reading this x)

omg. It’s a fan-inception!

Anonimo ha chiesto: Will Red Son and MK ever have a bad date?

I like to believe EVERY date will have would be comically bad. But I think that’s because they still need to understand that they don’t fall under the “typical demon date” or “amatonormativity” umbrella. The best date they could have is just them training and having lunch later, or them playing videogames or netflix and chill.

@sollythesalt ha chiesto: Dumb question but do you remember the scene in lmk where Wukong said he has stage fright? I wonder if you're gonna do something with that knowledge…. Ps: Keep doing your magic queen we love you and your art✌️💅

oh u bet I did

#ask box #shadowpeach bio parents au

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mcrdvcks · 5 months ago

Text

—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 ♡

#peter lyman x reader #peter lyman x fem!reader #peter lyman x you #peter lyman #scoop 2006 #hugh jackman #hugh jackman x reader #hugh jackman x you #hugh jackman x y/n #hugh jackman x female reader #logan howlett x reader #hugh jackman x fem!reader #abby's works ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

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ilikekidsshows · 2 months ago

Note

It's funny when people are like "Marinette is gonna be PISSED when she finds out that Marc and Nathaniel revealed themselves to each other" cause no, she won't lol there is only one person Marinette strictly enforces all rules upon and with no willingness to make a single compromise and that person is and has always been Chat Noir.

Her friends have always ranked MUCH higher than Chat Noir in the team's hierarchy regarding how well, supportive, and fairly Ladybug treats them. Her real friends can do whatever the hell wrong they please and all she'll do is groan a bit and then start another round of "teaching Chat Noir why only HE doesn't get to have anything or anyone and how that makes her the greatest leader ever". That has been the consistent way she was written as leader. She doesn't have actual rules, she pulls new rules out of her ass on a whim and will promote and favour whoever she wants in an given moment.

She invents new rules on a whim to make Chat Noir shut up (her randomly deciding that only guardians get to give out or take back Miraculous. A rule that CONVENIENTLY didn't exist when SHE wasn't the guardian bc that would have limited HER, now wouldn't it?)

And she goes back on any rule enforced on her the second she doesn't like it

- no one should know who you are.

- Miraculous holders shouldn't be guardians.

- Giving out information about the Miraculous, their secrets, and powers and privileges entirely dependent on what and whom SHE deems convenient to herself and not what's actually fair and is the best for her mission to defeat the Butterfly (which, big surprise, she utterly failed at bc she never prioritized her actual MISSION)

- Whoever is publicly revealed doesn't get to keep their Miraculous

- And no using of Miraculous powers for personal gain, which Marinette constantly goes against by still treating the Miraculous powers as a way to solve her (civilian) problems (including giving Miraculous out like candy to her friends just so she can have them by her side which is inherently of self-serving nature).

It's HILARIOUS that people think Marinette will be upset about Marc and Nathaniel revealing themselves. Marinette won't give a damn. That's the problem and has always been. That Marinette is an unfair and hypocritical leader who strictly enforces all the rules only on ONE person while doing whatever the hell she pleases and giving all her real friends all the freedom they like cause she plays favourites and abuses her leader/ guardian privileges.

---

Yeah, like, Marinette might give a lot of orders to everybody, but there's no evidence she'll actually enforce them for any of her friends. Like, the new rules about not engaging Akumas without her there first? You bet the instant someone other than Cat Noir does that, she won't even notice, but if she finds him fighting an Akuma without first calling her, she'll take time during the fight to rip him a new one.

These are both things that have happened before. Alya broke every single order Marinette gave her in season four and Marinette's reaction was to ignore it and later give her a kwagatama and promote her to full backup Guardian status. Meanwhile, when Cat Noir wasn't where he was supposed to be in the New York Special, she distracted them both during the fight to yell at him, which directly led to Aeon getting killed. She also yelled at him for trying to help in season 4 and when he wasn't "around enough" in season 6.

The rest of the team has been given the freedom to do whatever they want, their only instruction is not to engage Akumas without Ladybug, which I doubt will be enforced. Meanwhile, Cat Noir has to be always available on Ladybug's whim, show up to every fight, to act as bait and take hits for the team with two other holders with literally BLOCKING HITS as their power and protect the other half of the power to rewrite reality while still being considered nothing more than a standard teammate. Cat Noir has the most reponsibility after the literal team leaders, and Ladybug is only adding to his stress by holding him to standards that no one else, even said leaders, are held to.

Sure, Marinette will totally be mad her pet shippers if they go against her direct orders. She wouldn't even care. You can only get that kind of disappointed mad at someone if you first hold them to any standard of behavior, and Marinette provably holds neither herself nor her real-life friends to any standards. The only teammate she's gotten mad at is Cat Noir, therefore the only one she expects to reach her standards is also Cat Noir.

#ml critical #dats chats #ml fandom salt

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scrivenger-grimgar · 1 year ago

Text

au of an au for mdzs where canon plays out exactly as it was supposed to except

wwx became a calamity after dying and cared for his coven of ghosts in yiling before mxy summoned him for revenge.

he still elopes with lwj after solving the corpse question

supreme ghosts have a similar ability to gods taking deputies, except since they're not sharing immortality they can have a lot more of them

wwx's "deputies" are (in order) jiang cheng, the wen remnants, luo qingyang, nie huaisang, mo xuanyu, jin ling, lan jingyi, ouyang zhizhen, lan sizhui, and lan wangji.

being a calamity's "deputy" means that you are soul bonded to them, with a kind of preternatural sense of the wellbeing of the entire coven.

one of the heavenly officials decides to fuck around with time, and only other heavenly officials were supposed to remember, except extremely strong ghosts and their covens also remember because there are TWO gods married to calamities, and calamities are weirdly cooperative with each other (hc, hx, wwx, & gL discuss trade agreements over tea and artistic process over alcohol).

thus like 75 people are now in the past.

wwx's child body cant stand the power his soul has and just kinda crumbles under the weight. thats mostly fine tho cause he can shapeshift.

of course he immediately comes up with a dastardly plan to inflict as much chaos onto the sects as possible while also protecting his loved ones at the same time. he gets in contact with the wen remnants (bigger and there's more of them) and slowly moves them over to yiling while he builds places for them to live on the mountain, and then offers the people of yiling a very good deal:

"we'll deal with all your ghost problems for free, and in exchange we get discounts on food, and you tell everyone who comes asking that the Yiling Wei sect has been here the entire time."

its almost too easy to set up, too. they forge some trade agreements and other documents to place in the other sects' files, waiting to be found, with ease, bc he knows what the filing for the jiang, lan, wen, and nie looks like, and part of the story is that the jin offended them so badly that they just stopped doing business with them altogether and also tend to actively hate them with few exceptions.

meanwhile, huaisang, qingyang, and wangji will reference the Yiling Wei and act like this is something everyone knows about, and jiang cheng catches on and starts doing the same.

wwx's plan is to drive them all insane by appearing out of nowhere and acting like he's been there the entire time. make them question reality.

wen popo, at a discussion conference: i'll be standing in for my grandson so he can participate in the games

jiang fengmian, initiating polite conversation: your grandson? what happened to your son?

wen popo, internally cackling: fengmian! are you so quick to discard changze like this?! for shame!!

jiang fengmian, who has never met this lady: what

wen popo: you know i trusted him when he said he wanted to stand by his sworn brother's side but if this is how you treat his memory after he was so unwaveringly loyal to you, only ever leaving for Cangse, the love of his life, then i'll have to have you stricken from the legacy registry!

wen popo, with unfaltering confidence: good evening wen-zhongzhu

wen ruohan, who has incurable face blindness: well met Wei-zhongzhu (do i know her???)

nie mingjue is the only one who's taking any of this well and thats solely because his brother has been spoon feeding him Yiling Wei propaganda for 13 years. lan xichen has a crisis because his baby brother eloped with a clan leader he met thrice and they're having a spring wedding.

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krispdreemurr · 25 days ago

Note

what's your interpreation of gaster? a lot of the fandom, either old ut-heads or some newcomers have him as this cold, calculating scientist who only sees the characters as variables to be manipulated, but i am very partial to 'grandpa who is trying His Eldritch Best.'

i am not sure if you've seen it but there was art with him and the player that quoted shakespeare saying 'I have kissed the hands of the man who has killed my son.' and it just makes me think of how gaster has the unique perspective of fourth-walling breaking while also being. stuck in the forth wall, kind of phased into it. he knows we share his motivations to save the world, but also knows the reality of what he and the others are to us, a kind of meta mirror to the lightners and the darkners. if he's supposed to reflect us in some way there's no way he's straight up cruel.

also this is the same man who's first name is probably Wingding. he built the greatest machine the undergound had and will ever see and then forgot to put safety railings and decided to cool it by having giant ice cubes thrown at it. forever. he gets petty when you try and impersonate him. again, his first name is probably fucking Wingding. how you look at him and think him heartless

no yeah, absolutely. like, I am not going to claim to know the What here of what he's doing in the fourth wall, what universe he came from, etc, bc I suspect we don't have all the info there. but he strikes me as someone who cares deeply about the main cast and genuinely wants the best for them

my sort of like sense of his main characterization flaw is that he sees a problem and thinks that he has to be the one to solve it, and he can't stop pursuing a particular Methodology until he's entirely certain it won't work. he will dig himself into a hole trying to be useful and helpful, and when he realizes he's in the hole, he tries to dig his way out of it.

that's what I see as my most likely guess for what's going on w him in deltarune - he is legitimately trying to write a better future for the cast, but he is blinding himself to the damage his repair attempts are doing to everyone Right Now. hiding dess from the narrative so she lives, but ignoring how being outside reality might slowly fuck her up. trying to take Kris' cruel role from them so they can thrive, not realizing that Kris just feels more and more like a useless ghost at the outskirts of things. etc.

people compare him to a game dev a lot, and I do see it! but he always seems more to me like a modder; someone taking a preexisting story and trying to make it into something new.

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agentoffangirling · 4 months ago

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The Miraculous movie is x10 better than the show will ever be and I'll stand by that

Like, okay, here's the thing: Miraculous is the type of show that can only go on for so long. It's a superhero show, fundamentally, and so while the premise allows for so much creativity, the team behind it does not seem interestred in letting those possibilities play out. This leads to many of the episodes bring constantly repeated. The plot of every episode can be summed up with:

Marinette schemes to get Adrien/generally anything Adrien related, someone (differs on whether or not it's connected to her) gets akumaized, Ladybug and Chat Noir show up, Chat Noir usually ends up getting hurt in some way, Lucky Charm, everything gets fixed, Marinette learns a lesson. With the exception of a few episodes, this is the format they all do

And technically, that's not a bad thing as long as you make it enjoyable to watch. Your characters can learn and grow, becoming completely different people by the end. But as we've acknowledged, the MLB team doesn't want to do that

Chloe was set up for a redemption arc in season 2. She was on track to becoming genuinely likeable and a good person, straying from the bully role. What does Astruc do? Make her into an even worse villain bc she's "unredeemable"

Even though. She is a literal CHILD

Marinette, dear god, hasn't changed a single bit since s1. She's with Adrien now, yes, but still retains all her obsessive qualities and goes stalker mode whenever she sees Adrien hanging out with another girl (see Sublime). I see changes in Ladybug, but I hardly ever see that with Marinette. And it pains me so so much that they don't give her a chance to grow

And do I even NEED to go on about how it's been six seasons and multiple specials and STILL they don't know their identities?? Give it a rest!

Most people in the fandom fully recognize this and acknowledge that the only reason they watch it now is to see what happens, not necessarily because it's a good show

So yes, the Miraculous movie, with all of its cheesy lines and not-synced-up-singing, will always be better to me, imo, shows that Miraculous should've either ended a while ago or just had a movie series (3-4)

I suppose it's because Astruc had little involvement in it, bc Mari and Adrien (he has a personality now!! /lh) show themselves to be better people by the end. Gabriel here is just a broken father who wants to save his family‌, as opposed to series!Gabriel who is more than happy to kill his own son bc he's obsessed with his wife. Chloe is Chloe, but she's less superficial, and gives the vibe of actually being redeemed rather than toying with it

I would also argue that it being a musical works perfectly for the genre but I do wish they made that a bit more clear since so many were taken aback by it

Not to mention that the animation is GORGEOUS!! Every still and shot from this movie shows that it was made with love and care, down to the dust collecting on the benches in the sun (I could go on a whole thing on its own about the lighting, it is stunninggggg)

Just look at this asgycoitxruxxitcit

Oh, and props for solving the love square much faster. That is how it should be done

Point is, the Miraculous movie allows for proper growth and character building while the series is a train that's running low on track. I wouldn't say that we need a whole franchise of this, bc that would give us the exact same problems, but hey, a few movies? I would be totally for that

#i'm not the biggest jeremy zag fan #i do believe the reason it was good was bc it had actual writers working on it #and astruc was barely involved with production #very very big thanks for that #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #miraculous movie #miraculous ladybug movie #miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir #marinette dupain cheng #anti thomas astruc

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odiledemonicat · 30 days ago

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So...is it just me or were the extreme flaws in Arcane season 2 basically the inevitable result of the both-sides politics and general too-enlightened-and-smart-and-cool-to-have-strong-opinions attitude of the first season?

The whole "Suuuure Piltover oppressed Zaun for years through wealth inequality, police violence and ecocide buuut the Zaunites are jerks too! Look! Drugs! Prostitution! Terrorism! (gee I wonder what drove them to do all those things?) in season one became:

"and all of it is just a cycle of pointless violence that will never solve anything and that's why the Zaunites should pretty much just accept their position and patiently wait for Piltover to be nice and grant them basic respect by resolving things peacefully.

See? You can even get one seat at the council which overwhelmingly outnumbers you and still represents your oppressors. Smiles all around! I guess the Zaunites just needed to believe in themselves and be the bigger person in this fight that Piltover started. Because, as we all know, violence has never had a historical record of changing things."

(all of this right in the aftermath of the Gaza war and also Vi's voice actor Hailee Steinfield posed for pics with the actual IDF btw)

The "we support gay rights, as long as one of them's a cop so the audience knows they're not, y'know, one of THOSE gays" became:

"and that's why it's fine that Caitlyn basically coerced Vi into becoming a cop too and then struck her for not letting her endanger a child. CaitVi 5evah! Jinx just needs to grow up and stop being so selfish and jealous and possessive! This kind of volatile highs and lows and emotional turmoil are normal for lesbians, right?"

(like I've seen the whole "7 years in prison vs one month in a lesbian relationship" meme and I get the joke is supposed to be all "haha relationships toxic" but like...is that not literally just lesbophobia?)

The "yeah, we condemn police brutality, IF it's coming from nameless faceless cops who you have no personal connection to whatsoever. If it comes from a main character you're supposed to like, we'll just excuse it away bc they're hot" became:

"and so now all the blame for cops' evil actions, including said main character, will be placed on one generic evil dictator with no exploration of their complicity or the inherent flaws to policing as a system."

"We support mental health awareness! As long as the mental illness leaves you as a hardened badass with cool marketable fight scenes. Deeply rooted emotional scars and unhealthy coping mechanisms are sexy and make you look gritty and tough!" became:

"and that's why all the misery(heheh) from the first season has been ramped up to 11 to the point of feeling gratuitous so we can keep seeing characters constantly sad at all times. And also why now all the fight scenes just basically look like the characters have superspeed instead of at least somewhat believable heightened reflexes from a lifetime of constant violence, leaving them without any of the grounded realism and weight that made them look incredible before"

"Disability deserves representation! Viktor's just such a heckin' valid cool smol bean! As long as it's just basically shown as a reason to feel sad for him and little to nothing else and also he's forced by the plot to be looking for a way to get rid of it."

became

"and now he's looking for a way to solve ALL problems and inequality which has to be a bad thing for some reason and his goal is kind of turned into a suicide metaphor. Also to do it he has to take over the world because we have to keep in line with the original game (even though we already departed from it greatly anyway) and we just made it so it's out of heartbreak over Jayce. Goodness knows we can't just have him actually achieve his original intention of using science and medicine to radically improve society, that would mean fundamentally changing the system!"

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tanoraqui · 1 year ago

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Dungeon Meshi Liveblog: Some Much-Needed Downtime TBH

ok I kinda read these species-swap chapters quickly without commenting 2 nights ago bc I REALLY wanted to catch up to the show, and honestly I didn't have much to say? It was a fun showcase of some different species talents, and introduced multiple fun problems for the characters to solve [takes notes in DM]. But it didn't seem to move either plot or characters forward much. Some notes:

Honestly it's surprising that there's only been 1 count of food poisoning so far, when they're trying SO MANY new things. One must credit Senshi's cooking skills!

This might be the single funniest joke so far:

I've seen multiple posts saying Senshi's elfsona reveals him to be feminine by dwarf standards, and I'm genuinely BAFFLED by that take because it is SO obvious that Senshi's elfsona reveals him to be 1. the Hottest Man You Have Ever Met, and 2. HAIRY. We have seen 0 other elves with facial hair. I dug up that showcase of different elves and 0 of them have facial hair. In the Tolkienien lore from which all modern fantasy, or certainly this sort of fantasy, is derived, exactly 2 elves in the history of the world are said to have had facial hair. Elf!Senshi has a tiny little moustache. Elf!Senshi isn't feminine, he is the HOTTEST, HAIRIEST bear in the metaphorical gay club.

...it's possible that he's more of a himbo than we realize, though.

I don't know what's up with Kensuke and I AM worried that it's being directed by the demon. I want it to be Laios's friend so bad...

It occurs to me that "the winged lion is actually the demon at the root of all of this" is probably the biggest spoiler I've gotten, and I didn't even realize how huge a spoiler it was because I DIDN'T get spoilered for the fact that, so far as the characters know, the lion is supposed to be a helpful god. Don't play with spoilers, kids! Even if you want to read the juicy meta!

This initial fight with the gargoyles is probably my new second-favorite "Laios is really quickly analytical and problem-solving in combat" moment (the living armor fight is still #1). He sees how everyone is failing, prevents more problems as he can, realizes they can't win and puts together what pieces they need to get out. In group social dynamics, he's a mediocre leader at best, but he's a superb combat tactician.

Laios is just living in his own little after-school special, and I love him for that.

That first panel is definitely support for the theory that the 50-60yr life expectancy of "short-lived" races like tallmen, orcs, kobolds and halffeet is shorter than it should be, relative to their ages of maturity, because the long-lived races control and hold most of the resources. It's even possible that their ages of maturity SHOULD be even older, but social conditions force them to become "adults" at a younger developmental age than dwarves, gnomes and especially elves!

Panel 3 is Marcille mentally shoving Chilchuck higher on her list of Lives to Extend by Whatever Magic I Can Learn.

I love how the way they figure out that the mushrooms' effects are easily reversible is literally by thinking through the greater social worldbuilding implications of the effects.

^This is the single most Dad we've ever seen Chilchuck...topped only by that 'carry child like a football' a moment later. Actually, he yeets Marcille a LOT while tall - here, over the jump in the travel montage, with Laios to make a loop for the gargoyle...which I'm dead certain is an indication of how he physically treated his daughters. Those kids got casually, affectionately tossed like salad.

AND THAT'S WHAT WE CALL FRIENDSHIP.

...okay maybe I did have several thoughts about those 2 chapters.

"[Falin] was much tougher than I was. I hear she and our parents still write to each other" is SUCH a line for painting a picture of Laios and Falin's childhoods, and Laios's feelings on it.

you can keep your Kabru Wink(TM)s, I am weak only for the Laios Fond Little Smile(TM).

I love how Senshi is still musing on this soul = egg metaphor, and I LOVE how both times now that we've seen Laios genuinely lose his temper, it's because someone was saying "why are you just being excited about eating monsters when Falin is in danger?!", and he's snapping because he is fucking NOT dismissing his sister in favor of eating monsters, he is doing EVERYTHING IN HIS POWER to save her and it just so happens that the only plans with a smidgen of success involve leaning into eating monsters. And by trying to stop him from that, you're stopping him from saving Falin.

Laios, how tf do you remember the Wink? I'm 99% sure Kabru never once winked in your interactions; I WAS looking for it. Was he just exuding wink energy? (I mean...yes.)

The dramatic irony jokes in this chapter are on POINT. Chilchuck: "There's no way this thing still works" [tram door slams shut on his heels, cars immediately starts moving]. "You won't find a military company in the dungeon" [smash cut to Shuro, Namari and Kabru unhappily leading the Canaries into the dungeon]. Impeccable.

Stopping this one here in preparation for going nuts about implied elf-related worldbuilding in the next chapters!

#dm lb #dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon

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xf-cases-solved · 5 months ago

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S2E10: Red Museum

Case: Bro, don't make me try to summarize "Red Museum," so many things happen and every single one of them is baffling.

You know what? This entire episode feels like an SNL Stefon sketch, so I'm going to write it as one.

If you're looking for a monster-of-the-week X-Files tale centering around obscure religions, look no further. Fox network's hottest new episode is "Red Museum." This episode has everything. A cult of creepy vegetarians who all wear red turbans and whose sermons are all written on the fly by a dude who has a really impressive WPM. Children wandering around the woods in their underwear with "HE/SHE IS ONE" written on their backs with black Sharpie. Walk-ins.

Oh, what's a walk-in? It's that thing where a body's original soul is replaced by a new, different soul for some reason.

But that's okay if that's not for you. If what you're looking for is a story about a deep-seated conspiracy of unethical medical experiments, look no further. Fox network's hottest new episode is still "Red Museum." This episode has everything. An awkward road trip with an old man out into the countryside where he tells you his life story, unprompted. A random plane crash implicating the local doctor. Bovine somatotropin.

Oh, what's bovine somatotropin? It's that thing where you genetically engineer a growth hormone and give it to cows to make them produce more milk.

Still not what you're looking for? That's no problem. For those of you itching for some more myth arc plot, look no further. Fox network's hottest new episode continues to be fucking "Red Museum." This episode has everything. A middle-aged white man you're somehow supposed to distinguish from the millions of other middle-aged white men and remember that he's the guy that killed Deep Throat. A complete lack of usable evidence. Purity Control derivatives.

Oh, what's Purity Control? It's that thing from "The Erlenmeyer Flask" where you mix human DNA with alien DNA to conduct a series of experiments on the unsuspecting human population.

Also, there's a perv creeping on kids through peepholes.

Anyway. This episode... goes some places.

Moving on.

Does someone die in the cold open: My notes say, "no death in CO, but that kid is fucked up," which I feel is a good summary.

Does Mulder present a slideshow: YES!! Our boy and his projector have finally been reunited at last! He hasn't done a slideshow since "Tooms," which actually makes it all make sense now, bc that was the one he did in court that made me (and Scully) want to die from secondhand embarrassment. Maybe Scully had been keeping the projector locked away until he proved he could be trusted with it. She had the key to the storage closet in her pocket when she was abducted.

Does the evidence survive the investigation: Yeah, nah.

Whodunit: Bro, I don't fucking know. All of them. They all did it. Every single person is complicit. You're complicit. I'm complicit. Just blow the planet up and start over.

Convictions: 🙄😒

Did they solve it: Last line of the episode is "this case remains open and unsolved," soooooo. I'm not even giving them a "no, but" bc they didn't even manage to keep Deep Throat's killer alive long enough to get any useful information out of him. Maybe they shouldn't have given you guys the X-Files back, actually...

[how do i determine if a case is solved? check the scale here: x]

This episode is sponsored by: Part one of this five part SNL Stefon YouTube compilation for those of you who had no idea wtf I was referencing up there

youtube

***

General Total Stats:

(green means stat has changed since last ep; red means new stat added to list)

Total Cases *Definitively* Solved So Far: 15 (they haven't solved anything since fucking "blood," and technically they weren't even on the x-files then. they haven't solved a genuine x-file since "roland," and i only gave them that one out of pity. time to just keep the x-files closed and assign them to the department that tracks down people who pirate movies. mulder & scully and the search for the Truth 20-something college kid making copies of jurassic park to give to his cousin in exchange for weed)

Total Number of "Mulder/Scully, It's Me": 9

Total Number of Times Scully Has Conveniently Not Seen Something Crucial: 6

Total Number of Times Mulder Has Been in Mortal Danger: 14 (i think they technically both could have gotten blown up, right?)

Total Number of Times Scully Has Been in Mortal Danger: 14 (i expected these two stats specifically to be more disproportionate, but so far they're pretty even huh)

Total Number of Sexually Charged, Uncomfortably Intimate, and/or Flirty Moments Between Friendly Coworkers: 19 (bbq napkin scene. she wants to devour those ribs and then devour him)

Total Number of Autopsies Scully Has Performed On Screen: 5

Total Number of Times Scully Plays Doctor: 2

Total Number of Times Mulder Talks to an Informant: 21

Total Number of Times People Making Out in a Car Are Hurt or Killed: 2

Total Number of Times Someone Correctly Guesses a Password: 3

Total Number of (Plot Relevant) Nosebleeds: 5

Total Number of Times Mulder Has Tasted/Sniffed/Touched Something Questionable Without Following Proper Safety Procedures: 4 (it was just gas, but it was on the floor of a slaughterhouse, directly underneath a hanging hunk of beef, and there was a very obvious red can labeled "gasoline" sitting three feet away on the floor, so i feel like he could have made that inference without sticking his hand in it)

Total Number of Times People Fight in a Parking Garage: 1

Total Number of Times Someone Says "Trust No One": 3

Total Number of Times Someone Says "I Want to Believe": 4

Total Number of Times Someone Says "The Truth is Out There": 2

Total Number of Cigarettes Cigarette Smoking Man Has Smoked: 16

Total Number of Maggie Scully Sightings: 3

Total Number of Lone Gunmen Sightings: 3

Total Number of Alex Krycek Sightings: 3 (no more krycek for right now 😔. mulder's projector has returned, but still we lie in wait for rat boy's resurgence)

Total Number of Times I Had to Look Up What State the Episode Takes Place in Even Though I Literally Just Watched It: 13½ (not only did i not know, but i wrote this up over the course of two days, and had already forgotten by the time i got to this stat even tho i looked it up yesterday)

Total Number of Times I Had to Look at an Episode's Wikipedia Page to Fill This Out Because It Was Fucking Confusing and/or Too Boring for Me to Pay Attention: 7 (i am still not convinced i followed the whole thing. i don't think it's possible)

#txf cases solved #s2e10: red museum #msr #txf #the x-files #Youtube

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nehswritesstuffs · 7 months ago

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a good son, a better person

4969 words; for @gendervapor14, for whom I wanted to write this for their birthday, but it’s hella late, so Happy Belated Birthday and Merry Early Christmas; I often wonder about the psychology behind people like Sengoku bc it’s just so interesting how they compartmentalize things; I would recommend reading the original story this is derived from, as this is supposed to be a companion piece (the gist of it is it’s an AU where Corazón and Bell-mère live and then raise their canon foundlings (plus Penguin, Shachi, and Bepo) in Cocoyasi); might get a bit more edited further on but don’t expect much

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Sengoku glanced over at the little boy sleeping soundly on his office couch, the lad completely tuckered out from the day he’d had. He had found him outside Mary Geoise, sobbing his eyes out and hungry, and he felt as though he’d had no choice but to take him in or else he would starve. The child had eaten two adults’ worth of food before falling asleep, completely ignoring the adults in the room.

“This is going to backfire,” Tsuru said calmly. She and Garp were there in their old friend’s office, having came immediately once they heard the news about the foundling. While she seemed to be there in empathy, all Garp was doing was eating rice crackers in glee.

“Brat’s a Fallen Dragon,” Garp scoffed. “The big bosses are gonna be pissed.”

“He’s just a boy,” Sengoku frowned. “He didn’t ask for this.”

“Whether he asked for it or not is not part of the equation and you know it,” Tsuru reminded him. She seemed so calm, despite the fact it was clear the boy wrapped up in the Admiral’s coat was putting her on-edge; both her comrades knew her long enough to be aware of that. “What happens when they decide they want him dead?”

“They wouldn’t want that… they don’t even want to look at him…”

“…and they might solve that risk by wanting him out of the equation for good.” Tsuru sighed and shook her head. “One of your worst enemies is not a Celestial Dragon, but their memory, not to mention their mercurial whims.”

“They’re so self-absorbed they can’t remember if they shat yesterday or not,” Garp guffawed through a cracker.

“Some of them,” Tsuru agreed, “but it’s the ones who do remember that are the problems.” She exhaled heavily and looked at the child. “You sure you want to raise him? Dragons are very particular, Fallen Dragons especially. There will be plenty of challenges.”

“I will raise him to be a great Marine; might even have more potential than Garp’s Dragon…”

“Ah; you’re just jealous I got a kid through the Academy and you didn’t,” Garp smirked. “My Dragon’s a stubborn shit though… might end up being more a wild card than me.”

“I can hardly wait,” Sengoku deadpanned. Another wild card out of the same gene pool that brought forth Garp was honestly one of the last things he wanted to experience, even if said genes were only working at half-power. He glanced over at the boy to see that he was curled up and shivering—a bad dream. With a sigh, he went to the boy’s side, sitting down so he could rest a hand against him, calming the lad instantly. Seas, he was tiny…

“What’s his name?” Tsuru asked. Sengoku blinked at that—huh, he hadn’t said it yet?

“Donquixote Rosinante,” he replied. He turned back to the boy and smoothed his mop of blond curls. “Don’t worry, Rosi. You’ll be safe with me.”

‘I’ve got your boy, Saint Homing; you’re going to be proud.’

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

As it turned out, the Celestials did tolerate a Fallen Dragon being raised within a stone’s throw of their home. In fact, some of them even relished in the idea, the boy’s circumstances amusing them beyond what Sengoku could have imagined. He raised the boy to be a fine Marine, to be an advocate for Justice, to work hard and possibly even succeed himself in the place of Admiral. The boy even had friends within the system, just as Sengoku did, the lot of them pushing one another towards greatness.

There was one friend in particular, however, that Sengoku wasn’t entirely fond of. A year older despite being in the same class, she was from an Eastern backwater that never saw high or low of anything. She was trouble and he knew that from the start. It wasn’t until her that his boy started getting caught smoking, or was found with his uniform rumpled and out-of-place, or his mind started to drift elsewhere during lessons. Sengoku knew where—he too was only a man—but it worried him that this punk with a pair of sideshaves was causing a loss of focus… a lack of direction… and it brought worry that the Fallen Dragon was liable to slip further into something that he could not be lifted out from.

Then, one day, not long before his graduation ceremony, Sengoku’s boy took him by surprise.

Donquixote Rosinante wanted to take his brother down.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Before you go dark, there’s something I wanted to ask you, son.”

Sengoku watched as Rosinante stopped sorting his papers and contemplated turning to face him. The boy was too young and stubborn to be making such decisions, but since when did the young take their elders’ advice? Eventually, he went back to sorting.

“What is it?”

“That girl you were seeing while you were both cadets…”

“Bell-mère.”

“Yes. She was the one who took those orphans from Oykot and retired, correct?”

Rosinante’s hands began to tremble and he looked at Sengoku. “Why…?”

“I was thinking… and… do you think you can convince her to come back?”

“She’s not going to let the naval daycare raise those girls, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Rosinante replied. He went back to his personal papers in an attempt to seem too busy to talk. “Besides, she’s out of this game.”

“What if… she didn’t have to rely on the naval daycare?” Sengoku asked. The question hung heavily on the air, settling between them like a thick haze. “You know I’m old enough to retire.”

“You didn’t do anything for them before, so why start now?”

Sengoku knew the lad’s words were meant to sting, yet he didn’t feel anything. He was used to such accusations, after all. “As a member of the military, my hands are tied. However, as a retiree…” He trailed off, his eyes moving towards a messy stack of papers on his son’s bed. “I know how much she means to you.”

“You never seemed to care before this.”

“I was never sending my son into a demon’s den.”

Rosinante stopped going through papers, his hands shaky. “I’m going to come back, Dad, but before that I have to stop Doffy.”

“…and I don’t want that to take so long that they miss the opportunities they would have had if you were around… if I could help…”

“I already tried—she doesn’t want the girls raised on a base.”

“Then we can live off-base. Rosinante…”

“I’ll think about it,” the younger man said, tone almost a bit too sharp. “You know… they told me I had to go somewhere before heading over to Doffy to help cover my tracks. Maybe I’ll go there.”

“You will keep me informed, will you?”

His son didn’t answer and maybe… maybe it was for the best.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

To offer up one’s heart is a terrible thing.

They don’t know how precious it is, how precious they are, and can treat it casually and accidentally chip it.

Except, sometimes they know precisely how they should handle it, and that is by letting it slip from their fingers and shatter on the cold, hard ground. How could they possibly be in the wrong, when the one to blame is clearly you?

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Did you talk to her?” Sengoku asked. The snail on his desk frowned.

“You shouldn’t know that,” it replied in Rosinante’s voice.

“I am the Fleet Admiral; not a lot gets past me.”

Silence—the snail seemed to muse sourly.

“I did what I went there to do.”

“Then, what did she say?”

“It… never came up.”

“How could it never come up? I thought you were there for a few days.”

“It just… didn’t.” The snail looked almost melancholy. “Gonna go dark for a bit. Catch you in about six months for my check-in.”

“Rosinante?” The snail lifted an eyebrow. “Be careful.”

The snail went to sleep and that was that.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Missing.

Tsuru assured Sengoku that her troops had scoured the island—Rosinante was nowhere to be found on Minion Island, let alone any of the other neighboring islands. There was evidence of Birdcage survivors in one of the houses, but the cooking fire was out cold and there were bear tracks outside—there wasn’t much hope for whomever had lived there, let alone anyone who might have taken shelter there in the meantime.

Sure, he had sent a letter of resignation, but without the ability to confirm the date, what did he have except a sense of hope that felt more false than anything?

There was no funeral, though there was a mourning period. Most people kept their distance from the Fleet Admiral whether they knew why he was testy or not. The only ones who really came around were Garp (annoyingly), Tsuru (at least she was supportive), and a teen who had been picked up on Minion… whose father had dragged him along when defecting from the military. It was an interesting choice, for Tsuru to bring the lad to Sengoku, and yet having the youngster around… it felt more right than it deserved to be.

To hell with Diez Barrels; if he wasn’t going to raise his boy to be the Marine he was destined to be, then Sengoku sure as hell would.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Time passed.

No word from any of the intelligence agencies about Rosinante. They must have looked through all the North Blue without uncovering a trace.

Drake grew into a fine Marine.

A child with a familiar name started gaining a name for himself in the North Blue via petty trouble.

Sengoku still felt lonely.

All anyone could do was carry on.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was a lull in an otherwise stormy day when Sengoku got the mysterious letter, completely out of the blue. He stared at the envelope curiously. There was no return address, no identifying marks to inform him what was in his hands. It didn’t seem dangerous… and if it truly was, the sniffer snails would have caught it before it reached his inbox…

Carefully, he slid his finger under the envelope flap and broke the seal. Once opened, it yielded a folded-up piece of paper and a smaller envelope that was only folded shut. He opened the paper and began to read the letter, the author’s handwriting young and unfamiliar.

‘Fleet Admiral Sengoku,’ it read. ‘My name is Nojiko and I live on an island in a Cardinal Blue with my parents and little sister Nami. I have four brothers who you know about too, but I haven’t seen them in a long time.’

Huh…? Why was this girl writing him? How did he know her brothers? Who gave her access to his private office…?

‘Mom and Dad would be livid if they knew I wrote you. It’s not that we’re not allowed to contact you, but they don’t want to be found. I don’t think it’s about you specifically, but the people you are around. They don’t trust Navy Headquarters. To be honest? I can’t blame them.

‘Enclosed is a peace offering. Keep it safe. Consider this the only time we’ll talk unless my parents say otherwise or it’s an emergency.

‘With love,

‘Donquixote Nojiko’

Sengoku sucked in a breath—Donquixote?! He trembled as he picked up the other envelope and nearly cut his finger on the paper flap as he freed it and its contents.

There, clear as day, was a pair of photographs. The topmost one was not just anyone in the snail-captured image, but his son Rosinante all clean-faced and awkward limbs. He was wearing a nice suit that matched the other adult, someone that he had not seen in ages… the same one who his son had been involved with all those years ago. A pair of young teenaged girls were also there, throwing flower petals in the air. They were all smiles and laughter—it was a joyful day.

Sengoku missed his elder son’s wedding.

“Nojiko…” he whispered, looking at the photo. She must have been the teen with the darker skin and blueish hair—the kid with the ginger hair and pale skin looked like the younger of the two. Yes… these were the babies that the Cocoyasi woman left the military to raise… the ones she refused to bring on base longer than it took to be told there was little that could be done for them… his granddaughters.

Sengoku was missing seeing his granddaughters grow up.

Suddenly, a knock at the door shook him from his own thoughts. He looked towards the door and saw Drake, the younger man’s expression incredibly sheepish.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” he asked. Sengoku blinked as he tried to remember why he summoned him—the shock of the letter had made him completely forget.

“Take a look at this,” he said, holding out the photo. Drake took it and stared, brow knitting in concentration. “That is Rosinante. Recently, I might add.”

“Where’d you get this?”

“The girl on the left sent it through the private channel.” Sengoku watched Drake as he studied the image.

“These… are my nieces, aren’t they?” the younger man asked softly. He seemed nearly in awe at the idea.

“If Rosinante had come home, they would have been, yes,” Sengoku confirmed. “My guess is that he wants some time away from Headquarters before returning. I wouldn’t blame him if that was the case.” At least, that was what he told himself.

“Their names…?” Drake seemed hesitant; could Sengoku blame him?

“Nojiko and Nami.”

“Then let’s hope Nojiko and Nami are smarter than their brothers.”

“With that mother of theirs? Not a chance in hell.” Drake passed back the photo, a pensive look on his face. “Then you really think those hoodlums in the North are the ones?”

“Without a doubt,” Sengoku confirmed. He looked at the other photograph now in his hand, one of the sisters with four young men who he knew were making a splash around the North Blue. Not enough to need bounties yet, but they were putting their marks on things nonetheless. Bepo, Penguin, Shachi, and Law, now joined by Nojiko and Nami; none of them looked like his eldest son, and frankly they were mostly of a better age to be Rosi’s younger siblings, yet he knew they were all the best chances he had at grandchildren. “That wasn’t why I called you here.”

Drake raised an eyebrow. “It wasn’t?”

Sengoku shook his head. “I need to talk to you about SWORD.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“They did what?!” Sengoku went pale as Garp cackled on the couch and Tsuru stared him down. “You can’t be serious!”

“Deadly,” Tsuru replied. She laid a stack of reports down on his desk. “These are my findings after going on my usual rounds of the North. Seems like your grandsons are into the concept of freeing slaves.”

“Those boys have moral backbone—you should be proud, Senny,” Garp guffawed through his tea. “Wonder if they came that way or if Rosi had anything to do with it.”

“Damned if I know,” Sengoku said. He was going paler and paler with each line of text, going over the lads’ exploits. They were now gaining members to their crew and some of them may or may not have been former slaves. “They’re going to be the death of me.”

“No, just the death of the color in your hair,” Garp snarked. Sengoku resisted the urge to physically throw Garp out—the last thing he needed was to tussle with the man who regularly threw hands with the Pirate King and do so in his office. “How long do you think before Brannew catches on?”

“When I’m good and dead, with any luck.” Sengoku scowled. “Maybe if I threaten the Bounties Division, I might be able to pull something.”

“Pull what?” Garp snorted. “They’re a bunch of goddamned criminals no matter how you spin it.”

“Are you thinking ‘Alive Only’?” Tsuru wondered. Sengoku’s silence on the matter was rather telling. “You better have a damn good excuse for it before you go, or else you’re going to have more than just Brannew to answer to.”

“The son I found had a hand in raising these kids—I want to meet them first before it gets decided what goes on their bounties,” Sengoku rationalized. “I don’t care if the powers higher than me get their feathers ruffled. As Fleet Admiral, I need to know.”

“As a grandparent, you mean,” Garp teased. “They’re good boys; you should be proud.”

“What happened to them being ‘goddamned criminals’?” Tsuru deadpanned. Garp shrugged, barely able to contain his laughter.

Asshole.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

As it turned out, Brannew didn’t ask for an excuse as to why issue the lads’ bounties as Alive Only. No one in Bounties even blinked at the suggestion. It was almost as though it was… expected…? Sengoku took it as a minor miracle and went back to his office as though nothing at all happened. All he did was ask Tsuru to keep him in the loop when it came to the rag-tag quartet out of the North and if he needed to get more involved. She did not respond, though within a month there was a dossier on his desk following a certain crew’s movements.

If this was as close as he could get, then so be it.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Stay away from my children, do you hear me?”

“I’m the only thing keeping those kids from being hunted down like animals.”

“Wouldn’t that get in the way of Justice? You always did wear your guilt a little differently.”

The door slammed, Rosinante leaving in an instant.

Sengoku woke up with a gasp, nearly falling off the couch as he came to in his new (and still box-filled) office. Someone was knocking at the door; that explained that. His elder son’s words from the week prior rattled about in his brain as he lethargically got up to answer whomever disturbed his nap.

“You know, I always felt sorry for Garp growing up. I guess it’s his son and surviving grandson I should pity.”

He had spoken those words with a venom that Sengoku had never known from him—what had happened to his boy there in the East? Why was it so easy for him to walk away? He opened the door and saw the absolute last person he wanted to look at that current moment, his very presence the beginnings of a monster headache.

“What do you want, Garp?” His colleague had the biggest shit-eating grin he had seen on the man in a long time, which he was honestly too tired to be more concerned over. “Have Kuzan and Sakazuki worked out who’s replacing me yet?”

“Nah; I hear that’s probably gonna come to a duel. I’m here because of this.” Garp held up a newspaper that had been opened to the seventh page, a blurry photograph accompanying a rather concerning headline.

EX-NAVAL OFFICERS JOIN REVOLUTIONARY ARMY – INTELLIGENCE LEAKED?

“Seas below,” Sengoku cursed. He took the paper and looked at the article closer. “What the fuck does your boy have on mine that made them do that?!”

“I just got done running this through Intelligence—they’re there of their own accord,” Garp replied. “Them’s the breaks, Senny. You can try to raise them into good Marines, but can’t win ‘em all.”

“Garp…”

“Sometimes you lose ‘em to discontent and radicalization, and sometimes they’re smart and join SWORD. You learn to live with it…”

“Garp, do you realize what this means?!” Sengoku smacked the paper with the hand not holding it. “My son and his wife are working against us! Are you even able to conceive of the implications, or did your brain use all its ability to conjure up discontent and radicalization?!”

“Now that’s just mean.”

“I hope for both of our sake that Kuzan gets the Fleet Admiral spot,” Sengoku deadpanned. Garp simply shrugged.

“Got your kettle and rice crackers unpacked yet?”

A beat.

“They’re in the cupboard.”

Garp then made it his mission to push past his old friend and start putting together tea while chattering away, the empty words flowing over Sengoku as he instead looked again at the newspaper, the blurry—yet undeniable—photograph of Rosinante and Bell-mère underneath a Revolutionary Army flag almost too much for him to bear. He hated it, he hated how it made him feel, and he hated wondering what he could have done differently to prevent it. Eventually, Garp shoved some tea in his hands and started blathering on about something. Anything. Whatever it was that would keep his own thoughts at bay.

Was he truly no better than Garp? Was this how he felt? He sipped the tea and nibbled on rice crackers, hoping that the feeling would soon go away.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Sengoku’s hair was beginning to gray when he got his next letter, the fact there was two at the same time nearly knocking him out of his chair. They were both slid into a pile of paperwork that one of Tsuru’s subordinates had delivered to him—there was no way it wasn’t at least partially her doing. They looked very similar, as though the senders had been taught the same way in school.

‘Inspector General Sengoku,’ the first one read. The handwriting was familiar—Nojiko.

‘I’ve been following in the papers what’s been going on with your work situation these past few months. It seems like you might now have some free time to possibly visit? Mom and Dad left me in charge of the farm and, although I have help and I get letters from some of them, it’s… difficult. I can do the work, don’t get be wrong, but I’m used to having at least one sibling and parent wandering around and now it’s just me.

‘What did you say to Dad and Mom that made them not come back home? One of their old work friends sent me a message saying that they were going to see you, and now… you know. Is it related to why we never really saw you growing up? Is it related to work? What’s going on?

‘Donquixote Nojiko’

Sengoku’s stomach twisted in a knot. What was he to tell this young woman? He placed the open letter down on the desktop and opened the other, hoping that it would at least be better news. The handwriting was unfamiliar; it wasn’t even the specific lettering he taught Rosinante and Drake to help conceal their communications. He opened the envelope carefully, unsure as to what he would find.

‘Grandfather,’ Sengoku’s heart skipped a beat, ‘Should we call you that? I dunno. Seems a little weird, but our family kind of is in general.

‘We’re going to visit our uncle’s for a while. Not the one who works with you, but the other one, who grew up with Dad and has the big house. We’ll check in with our normal uncle on the way. This might take a bit, because we don’t want Dad’s brother to know what’s going on. We wanted to tell you that in case… well… because our parents don’t know, and neither do our younger siblings. They’d all make too big of a fuss. You’re kind of a neutral party, you know?

‘Wish us luck! Our uncle can be pretty weird, but you know that.’

Sengoku let the paper fall out of his hand and onto the desktop, covering the one from Nojiko. It wasn’t signed, but he knew it was from one of the lads Drake had gotten on the snail. They were headed for Dressrosa…?! Why?! There was no way they were going to join him—either that or they had been extremely talented liars—and what hope did they have of opposing him?! How many good and loyal soldiers had they sent Dressrosa’s way, only for them to become swept up in his antics? There was only so much he could take…

A nudge at his arm and his pet goat bleated in a plea for a snack, glittering black eyes trained on the letters. Sengoku petted its head instead, drawing out a soft protest.

“No, not these ones,” he said. “Not until I know they’re safe.”

…because, really, what other choice did he have?

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Sometimes, love is rough. It’s distant and feels absent. Life tests it due to one reason or another and picking up the pieces can be as difficult as watching it shatter in the first place.

Did you do enough? Of course you didn’t. Was this how it was supposed to go? Never. Who was the one who allowed the veneer to crack and hairline fractures build and build before it began to truly hurt?

Except, you already know the answer, don’t you? Deep down in your bones, in your soul, and it aches something fierce on those silent nights where it doesn’t take the imagination much to conjure another possibility… a room full of noisy, happy people providing the exact thing that instead claws and festers in their absence.

It hurts sometimes, to love a family, and not entirely know if they love you back.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

When Tsuru told him she was headed to Dressrosa to pick up Doflamingo and his cronies, it was all Sengoku could do to not immediately jump up from his desk and force his way on her ship. She knew she was inviting him—there would be no other reason why she was making mention of it now. With Garp off torturing the youngesters or whatever it was he did these days, it was good for the two of them to get work done without his antics… yeah… that was the excuse.

“You’re tense,” she claimed, watching as he kept his eyes on the horizon.

“Who’s tense?” he scoffed. “Dressrosa is nothing but beautiful women and wonderful food; nothing to worry about.”

Tsuru simply made a noise and left him to his devices, making it clear she didn’t believe him. How could she, when she knew it was not just Doflamingo on the island, but also the ones he had wanted to see for so long… to share a meal with… the ones who he could have had like she Kujaku… she pitied him, in a way, knowing that there was so much to contend with despite his desire to wipe the slate clean.

That was why he bowed, in fact. A sorry old man filled with regret on his hands and knees; he was a sight to behold in the one-room house, weeping openly as his grandchildren hugged him. First it was the bear and the young woman, then the pair who had gone undercover, and finally the now-former Warlord, having needed cajoling by the others to join in. It felt bittersweet, knowing he could have watched them grow from teens, from children, from babies, and now these adults—not much younger than his sons—had lost so much that he could never repay.

“C’mon! Youse guys gotta hurry!” The green-haired idiot who had come in to warn them about Tsuru began to usher everyone out, shivering at the sight of him. Eventually, it was only Sengoku, Rosinante, and Bell-mère in the house, the former never having felt so tired.

“Rosi…” he said softly. “Can you ever forgive me?”

“I don’t know,” Rosinante replied. “It’s… complicated.”

“Will you at least quit the Revolutionary Army?”

“Pshh… no way,” Bell-mère smirked. “We’re finally doing something useful for a change; Dragon’s got the right idea. She nudged Rosinante with a twinkle in her eye; her sense of mischief from her cadet days had not waned. “I’ll see what the kids are up to; can’t let them have all the fun.” She left the house, leaving only father and son.

“Is she…?”

“Yeah; she’s telling the truth. We won’t be coming back.” Rosinante shuffled his feet slightly, looking down at the floor. “Listen… I…”

Sengoku didn’t let him finish before he was hugging him, the action taking the younger man by surprise. Rosinante didn’t know what to do with his arms, hunching slightly until he could cautiously hug back, knowing that it had been a very, very, very long time.

“I’m proud of you,” Sengoku said, voice threatening to break. “Follow this sense of Justice and be a better man than I ever was… better than Homing, even.”

“So you won’t hunt me down? Swear you’ll lock me up like Garp does to Dragon?”

“No.” He held his boy at arm’s length, simply glad to be looking at him again. “There’s a farm in the East I’ve been meaning to visit. I hear they grow some of the best mikan in the Cardinal Blues.”

“Something tells me you’re right.” Rosinante stepped backwards out of his grasp, letting Sengoku’s hands slip away. “I guess this is goodbye.”

“For now.”

“Depends on what’s waiting outside that door.”

At that, Rosinante turned and ran, hitting his head on the lintel before stumbling outside. Sengoku watched as the younger man floundered around until Bell-mère stopped him from falling over, catching her husband in a grasp that easily allowed her to pull him into a kiss that made all their present children visibly uncomfortable.

It was almost normal, the bonds they had out there under the sun. While Sengoku was proud, he was also envious. Despite working outside the law, they were all so good, while he honestly did not know what he stood for anymore. He watched as they vanished into the distance, waiting until they were out of sight before sitting on the bench outside the small house with his gaze towards the harbor. Everything was peaceful until the rubble from the town began to rise up and start flying around.

Issho did not have a chance.

#One Piece #One Piece fan fiction #Sengoku the Buddha #Vice Admiral Tsuru #Monkey D. Garp #Donquixote Rosinante #X Drake #contains minor Bellazón and Tangerine Hearts

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