#fic: you know me too well

[shaarlslec]

you know me too well 

part 1: the break-up, the days and nights that followed, the meet-up

part 2: the core memories of your relationship, the present

paring: daniel riccardo x reader

words: 6440

warnings: angst in the first part, short physical fight scene (daniel is not involved), monza 22, mentions of drinking/throwing up and blood;

masterlist

Seeing Daniel for the very first time after your break-up, getting in a fight for him and promises of the future.

THE “FRIENDS” THING

Staying friends with your ex is never a good thing, why the hell would you and Daniel think that you amongst all the people that have ever been through a break-up while still deeply loving each other can prove that wrong? None of you thought that through. The thrill of you two being in the same room together after months of not talking nor seeing each other was too high to be ignored and you became rapidly unaware of how much of a bad decision was to agree in being sat at the same table close next to each other.

Oh, so very close that your knees touched underneath the table. And no, it was not because the said table was too crowded and there was not enough physical space; it was very much because both of you craved for even the slightest touch from the other but was not daring to say a word. 

Daniel made you laugh like in the good old times with silly ass jokes and impressions for the first couple of hours spent together and then you filled the time by gossiping all the couples that you were not getting well together while you two yourselves were a couple. For a minute there it felt like you and Danny could really make the whole friends thing work, until it came to dancing together on slow songs yet again like the very first time when your bodies stood this close many years ago. 

“So many people in here!” You exclaimed in awe as you quickly scanned the packed dance floor while your hands were awkwardly finding their spot again around Danny’s neck while he was searching for rightfully his on your waist. 

Being that close to each other made your heart flutter, but not in the way that it did for the very first time you two shared a dancefloor. It ached with sorrow and grief, and with the unsaid deeply desire of the emotional distance in between the two of you to be shattered by all the good you did to each other during those four years. Instead, the hammer was molded in the coldness of your past months together and in that bittersweet feeling of holding each other stringently glued back in Paris. Your bodies moved awkwardly alongside with the dawdling rhythm of the song played, and yet they knew each other too well not to fit right into the other. 

Your ex-boyfriend agreed with a nod, “Have you ever pictured us getting married?” Daniel suddenly asked after a short turn of head into the room, “Because I did.” He then continued after a short, parched gulp that you almost felt in your stomach, “It would have not been filled with this many people, maybe somewhere far away from Perth and with only our close family and friends.” He then spoke, glared fixed on your teary eyes as the words kept coming from between his lips. 

You took a short breath in, “It would have been simple and private, and we would have worn those silly outfits that we bought in Vegas.” You added, both thinking about that one time two years ago when you got way too drunk to stay sane in Vegas and decided to get falsely married in one of the casinos after buying cheap tacky Halloween costumes of a bride and groom to be that stood loose on both of your complexions, “I thought about it, yes.” You answered, letting yet another sigh to escape from deep in your lungs. 

“Those would have been indeed funny.” Danny laughed, and yet you recognized right away that he was putting an act again in front of you. 

Daniel was not amused, and neither were you. You comforted him by replying with a short fake smile, “Have you ever questioned why we have never done it?” You inquired, lights dimming as the song was about to switch with yet another slow one, “Why we have never talked about us getting married before?” You breathed, tiptoeing on your feet to reach the closeness of Daniel’s mouth not wanting for the people dancing around you to hear such a private talk. 

The chest of your ex-boyfriend lifted in an instant, you were being too close to him which allowed Danny to take in your full scent. It drove Daniel utterly crazy, and that was because he has not felt the scent of home in a long time, and now he was holding you into both of his hands unable to taste it but being just lured in with just the fragrance of what once was completely his. 

“Were not weddings for you just a quick way to earn easy money?” He then replied, being unable to think about a proper answer in the situation given and only managing to comeback with yet another question. 

“You changed my mind in many prospects during the time when we were together, you would have changed my mind with this one too.” You responded, getting back fully on your feet now as you needed to restrain the immense urge of not kissing him right then and there. 

Danny was not the only one who missed home, you missed him too – dearly and deeply so, “Don’t do this to me Y/N.” Daniel softly spoke, tightening you even closer into his grip as he pushed your bodies together for his head to now lay in the curve between your neck and shoulder, “Don’t make me think again of what it could have been.” He then breathed into your left ear making your entire body swiftly tremble with his words, “I’ve done it to myself many months after our break-up.” Danny shortly inhaled the last of his mutters, allowing him to fully take in your scent before departing again from you, “I was right, I cannot do the whole “friends” thing with you.” 

You took a step back as well from him, “Neither do I.” You replied, watching your hand that had unconsciously taken Danny into yours, as if your bodies were not ready to let go yet no matter your intentions of doing so. You took a breath in as your fingers swiped away from Daniel’s while the song ended, being replaced by the MC’s voice announcing the bride and groom dance. 

Daniel was the first one to go, leaving you yet again alone while he went straight to the bar where he met the guy from earlier that first asked him about you at the beginning of the evening. 

“I need to drink.” Daniel firmly spoke as he looked at his friend, “No matter what, no matter how much.” He then added, “Just pour something in the glass.” He added, signaling to the barman and watching his friend being surprised by the man’s quick act. 

“Are you alright?” The man then asked, patting Daniel’s shoulder. 

“Not even a bit, not even at all.” Your ex-boyfriend confessed, not daring to take yet another glare over his shoulder to watch you go in the furthest away corner from him and the bar. 

MY PERSON

Daniel’s coping mechanism turned out to be alcohol for that night, and he indulged in it heavily and quickly after you two decided to split once again. You decided to leave the wedding early a little bit over midnight, there was no point in staying any longer in a place where you witnessed from afar Daniel getting wasted and knowing that you going to him to try and stop him will only do worse.

You rapidly said your goodbyes to the people that matter and stormed out of the room right away as you searched for a car to take you out from that hell of a night. 

And yet, on your way-out Daniel’s name stopped you. The name was not spoken from the mouths of your mutual friends, but from people you were not even acquitted with. A group of men smoking cigars outside, talking shit about your ex-boyfriend without knowing that you were involved with him as you waited next to them for the cab to arrive. You tried to ignore them at first, and yet your blood boiled every single time they mentioned him.  

“Have you seen the McLaren driver inside? The Daniel Riccardo guy? Man, that guy is extremely wasted, getting kicked out of the team seems to have affected him.” One of them spoke as he laughed, “I saw him knocking out a few glasses earlier, look I even took a video of it!” He enthusiastically spoke, and your ears widened in surprise. Fuck, you knew that will go on the internet minutes after you leave. 

The video played, and you quickly peaked into the men’s direction. They were all laughing at Daniel for stumbling on his drunken feet and bumping shoulders with one of the waitresses, “Oh shit, sorry!” The voice of your ex-boyfriend being clearly heard on the recording. 

“Man, and they say famous people have it all together.” Another one commented, and that was what made one your fists clench while you were cancelling your drive, “Twitter is going to love this one!” The man giggled, and that was your exact cue to mingle with people wanting to mess Daniel up. 

“Having fun, boys?” You asked them, fully turning into their direction as you took few steps towards them, “Was bullying in high-school not enough for you three?” You asked them, looking straight into their confused faces as you snatched the man’s phone from his hands, not even thinking about the consequences of your actions. 

You went through the stranger’s phone as they were still perplexed by your actions, completely deleting the video from the man’s phone quickly enough before he dared to snatch it back from your hands. 

“What the fuck was that?” The owner of the phone shouted back at you, while the other two of his friends went in all defensive mode by stepping ahead in front of you and him with a quick move ready to shield the immensely imbecile that dreadfully looked at you, “Who the fuck are you to touch my phone?” He then yelled even loudly, making the other people that were out for a cig to turn their necks around to witness the whole scene. 

“Someone who does not tolerate high-school behavior from grown-ass adults.” You replied as you twitched both of your eyebrows and crossed your arms at your chest, “Do you have any other videos?” You asked, one of your tensed veins almost bursting on the top of your forehead. 

The man doubtfully laughed at you, “Oh,” He then paused, looking from head to toes at your figure, “I understand now.” He then said with yet another annoying giggle, “You are one of his bitches, I heard that famous people do have loyal bitches.” He then commented, taking a step aside from his two bulldog friends to put two of his fingers at the top of your chin which you slapped right away leaving him all hanging, “Oh, look at this one!” He argued again, “She bites.” He then added with a weird fetish smug slapped on his idiotic face, “Do you bite Riccardo too rather than kissing his ass?” 

You chuckled, “Just say you are jealous of him then since you seem to not have any bitches to either bite or kiss your ass, and then delete all the videos you have of him from tonight.” You demanded, not moving an inch from your initial spot, and not letting him get his glare away from yours seeing him getting all frustrated and nervous in your presence as you accidentally touched a very sensitive spot for the stranger in front of you: him not getting any bitches. 

Your comment infuriated the man even more, and now his hand quickly snatched into your hair at the back of your neck as the man pushed you closer to him to look you outrageously in the eyes once more, “I am not a Formula 1 driver, but I pay well if you want to do me the same services as you do for him.”

The rest of the people that were outside staring at the whole scene gathered around you as soon as the man dared to touch the strings of your hair, and even the douchebag’s friends told him to stop and not create a scene. One person pushed his shoulders back, telling him to stay put and get away from you. All of them wanted to help, shouting at him or either pulling him from you and yet the man’s grip was forcefully enthralled in your hair and for split of a second it reminded you of that one silly fight you had in high school with one of your classmates that dared to touch you in the same way. Thinking about that scene, you acted just as you did back then due to your pushed nerves as you were feeling the man’s stinky breath on your face – you used all your force to smack the stranger’s forehead with yours after muttering the warning “get your hands out off right now.”

The heads smacking happened fast, too quick for him to even notice the bridge of his nose being quickly broken by your head. The hand went away from your hair as he stepped away from you, and your head which was already dizzy enough from the drinks now became even heavier and instantly you felt the metallic taste of blood engulfing your mouth – you had broken your nose too. 

“What the f—” The man shouted, touching his wobbly nose and right away jumping on his feet into your direction caught up in anger as he wanted to fight you back thinking about throwing a punch into your direction. 

The people around him stopped at the right time, and yet the shouting and the yelling of profanities towards you were not stopped even minutes later when the police was called due to the incontrollable behavior of the man that was stubborn enough to push all the people around him to get a hold of you.

You perplexed look at the whole scene, touching your chin that was now stained in blood coming from one of your nostrils. Oh fuck, you just physical hit someone for speaking ill of your ex-boyfriend.  

The police’s car came minutes after the man’s friends succeeded in calming him down, but right when the cops went outside from their car he started again to point into your direction and whining about being head bumped by a girl.

You said nothing but laughed at him, your head was too light-headed to fully comprehend what he was saying or complaining about. 

You were both taken at the nearest police station to give statements minutes later, and things seemed to be calmed down quite a notch when you were seated next to each other in front of three policemen who looked down at you like to children who got in a fight in a kindergarten’s playground. 

“Ok, so what exactly happened?” One of them boreally spoke, “You wanted to punch the lady, and the lady punched you back?” He asked, switching his glare from you to the stranger. 

You took a breath in, “It was self-defense, and I did not punch him.” You laughed as you were receiving wet napkins from one of the other policemen to wipe your face, “Imagine if I did.” You mockingly spoke as you took a quick glare to his much worse broken nose than yours. 

“You gripped her hair, right?” The interrogator asked, looking at the now puppy-face eyed man next to you far different from the one not even half an hour ago. 

“I did not want to—” 

The shaky voice of the man was harshly interrupted by a pair of hurried steps entering the room you two were questioned into.

You turned your necks, and that is when you spotted Daniel’s widened and worried eyes on you, “Jesus fuck Y/N.” Danny then loudly spoke after taking a short breath of air into his lungs as his chest lifted down in relief, “What the fuck happened?” He spoke, rapidly getting on his knees next to you to gently cup your face into his hands to better look of the masterpiece you managed to provoke to your own nose while fighting with that idiot, “He did that?” He then dreadfully spoke, glaring at the scaredy cat next to you. 

Touching one of Daniel’s shoulders for the man not to straightly jump at your newest enemy’s neck in front of the three policemen who were amusingly witnessing the entire scene, you shook your head in denial and whispered the words “I did that” pointing to both yours and the man’s noses.

Daniel had heard minutes after the car police took you at the station that you got into an argument with someone, and without even thinking about it twice or asking someone who saw the whole event unfold before their eyes, Daniel called a car and went straight away to the place you were at. The man’s heart raced fast, much faster than the car he was in. It sobered him up right away – knowing that you were in trouble.

Indubitably so, Daniel imagined the worst-case scenario and once your ex-boyfriend saw your bloody nose and the stains on your dress, something within him unleashed and there was nothing more that he wanted to do rather than smashing that moron’s face even harder that it already was.

And yet, your touch and short smile calmed him down. You were good, and you were safe. Yes, with a bit of a broken nose and a light-weighted head. And yet, you were able to smile and crack jokes still – Daniel was satisfied with just that instead of throwing a punch himself at the face of the man standing next to you. 

The policemen demanded Daniel to stay outside until you amicably solved your little dispute with the man. You stood for another whole ten to twenty minutes in the room, and you both ended up being fined with a small amount of money for disturbing the public space after it was shown that the man you head-bumped had his record already stained by other public assaults after getting drunk at parties and other events. 

“I will agree with leaving it just like this if he deletes all the vides from this night from his phone and proves us that he did so.” You dead-serious spoke with your hands at your chest, watching him already being submissive of you and germanely deleting all the footage from the wedding – even the ones in which Daniel was not the main character of. 

Your ex-boyfriend was briefed on how the whole situation played out before he found out that you got in a fight as he was patiently waiting for you outside the police station by one of the witnesses. Once Danny saw you getting out of the doors, the man’s arms tightly embraced you without any warning and you were too tired to even try and resist the man’s hug. 

“Do we need to go to the hospital?” Daniel asked you after he took your chin in one of his hands to push your head back to better see what happened to your nose, “Does it hurt?” Daniel then added, gently using his fingers to remove any remining sign of blood from your cheeks and chin. 

You declined with a light shake, “Not anymore, they had someone look at us when we first arrived here. I am fine, they told me I just need to rest and go for a check-up within two days or so.” You added with your head back, not feeling any pain rather than the aching of Daniel’s palm on your neck with his fingers touching your skin, “You should have seen the other guy up close.” You proudly grinned, “I smacked him really good.” You added with a giggle, now watching Daniel worryingly staring in your eyes back. 

“Why the hell did you do that?” Your ex-boyfriend inquired, letting both of his hands to rest now on your shoulders as you both breathed into each other and into the night’s cold scent. 

“You are my person, Danny.” You shortly answered, knowing well that Danny was aware of why you picked a fight to being with, “I will have your back no matter what.” You added, leaning your forehead on Daniel’s for a moment of comfort and relief.

Daniel took a deep breath in with his eyes closed, your scent again so close to him – and you so fragile inches away from his own vulnerable self. 

Staying friends was not an option, you already figured that on your own. And yet, being each other’s person, whatever that meant, seemed to work perfectly for you too.

It was a gray area for both of you, somewhere in between the love of your life and best friend, somewhere in between soulmates and the ones that got away. 

“You are my person too, Y/N.” Daniel replied as he placed a soft kiss on the top of your forehead, “But please don’t ever do something as stupid as getting in a fight for me.” Your ex-boyfriend then giggled, wrapping one of his arms around your shoulders as a sign of “let’s get you home”. 

“Oh, come on now Danny,” You teased with a laugh, “You would have done much more than what I did if the roles were inverted.” You added, picturing the scenario in which someone would speak ill of you in front of Danny. 

“You are right.” He then spoke, walking at your side while calling a driver to pick both of you up, “I would have broken more than just a nose.” He then added, throwing you one of his cheeky winks that you missed so much, “You still know me too well.”

MONZA THEN AND NOW

Daniel took you home after you allowed him to do so, wanting to know that you were all alright and there was no need for you to be carried to the emergency room.

You cleaned yourself up while Daniel threw up next to you in the bathroom, all the alcohol finally margining into his insides after hours of him wanting to play it cool.

The whole scene seemed too familiar for both of you not to speak about it. You, cleaning your dress from red stains, and him throwing up next to you. 

“This feels like Monza last year.” You bluntly spoke, gently patting the man’s back as his head was full into your toilet, “Remember when I stained my dress with wine?” You called, gently stroking the man’s curls. 

Daniel’s head went up as well as his entire body searching for the sink now rather than the toilet, and after the man went to quickly wash his mouth and brush his teeth borrowing one of your spare toothbrushes, Danny replied with a short nod of approval while drying his face with one of your towels.

Looking at him using your personal belongings as if they were his own, seeing him in your space again as if he knew how to navigate it all, managed to bring you back to the time when you only knew happiness and love within the man’s presence – to a time that you both wanted to return to. 

“When I drank way too much for my own good and I ended up throwing in the hotel’s bathroom while you were rubbing my back?” Daniel then laughed, “Of course I do remember it all.”  

Back then your relationship with Daniel was shaky and yet you were both still lingering on the feeling that you can make it work after spending the whole summer break before Monza together during which you thought Daniel loosen up a little about the whole racing with McLaren situation. The irony of the situation was that spending time with you, and you getting his mind from racing was the main reason why Daniel Ricciardo aced the Italian race weekend although you were not there to see him as you were booked for yet another fashion event. 

When Daniel won back in 2021 at Monza, the man’s whole attitude towards you switched in an instant. Your then boyfriend was not answering his phone prior to the race weekend, but right after that race was won with a beautifully 1-2 finally having something tangible to prove that he was worthy of being back on the podium, Daniel called you to immediately book a flight to Italy to celebrate the win with him before he had to be in yet another city far away from you. You had missed the race using work as an excuse, and yet part of the excuse was based on the fact that you were not enjoying being in the paddock anymore after Daniel got his seat at McLaren, and also because you thought that Daniel was too caught up in wanting people from the team to see him winning the race rather than caring if you attend it or not.

You had to work too that weekend and in the week that followed for another fashion magazine this time, and yet you switched your schedule around so you can at least attend the afterparty of the race. You were happy for him, thrilled even. You knew that Daniel was truly happy only when he stood on that damn podium, and you felt completely helpless in knowing that you were never able to give him the same feeling. 

You were expecting him to pull a Monaco 2018, you wanted him to be as happy for the McLaren win as he was for Red bull. And yet, that night felt very much very different from the one that happened three years prior. Hell, the celebration was not even that good as getting a podium with Renault was.

Daniel acted crazy and all over the place, drinking too much again, and spending the whole night in the company of his colleagues rather than in yours.

You were unrightfully jealous, as you were even bothered to attend the race in the first place and yet you were not understanding why Daniel made such a fuss in bringing you to Monza if he was not actually going to spend time with you? 

Somewhere after three am you decided that you wanted to go back to the hotel room alone if Daniel was not willing to join, “I am tired Danny, and I smell like a winery.” You cried then back to him pointing to your wine-stained dress due to Daniel’s drunk clumsiness from when you shortly danced together – accidentally spilling drinks on each other seemed to be one of your things too. 

Daniel agreed for you two to leave after minutes in which you begged him to do so, not wanting to see him taking any shots as he faked smiles and accepted congratulations from random people in the pub. It was all a façade, and you read right through it and yet decided not to shatter Daniel’s reality that night. You wanted him to enjoy the end of the weekend as much as he could, but Daniel too was aware of the fakeness of it all. 

“Do you think they like me now, Y/N?” Daniel asked you after throwing all the alcohol up as you rubbed the man’s back after you cleaned your dress, “Do you think they think that I am a good driver now?” He then asked while you two ended up staying on the bathroom’s floor leaned on one of the walls as you worryingly looked into your boyfriend’s eyes.  

“Does it matter this much to you?” You had inquired after a long pause, taking one of Daniel’s hands in yours to gently squeeze, “If they like you or not? If they think that you are a good driver or not?” 

Your boyfriend’s head leaned into your shoulder, “I won for them, they have to extent my contract now.” Daniel then spoke, completely ignoring your two questions as the man’s eyes closed for him to fall slowly yet surely asleep next to you. 

Getting the wet curls out of your boyfriend’s face you had realized then that the extension of his contract was all that mattered to him in that timeline, and no matter how much you wanted to get his mind off McLaren there was no way for him to seek for your guidance rather than his team.

You were not priority number one anymore, and it would have been selfish for you to want the spot back when you were caught up in your work too.

You leaned your head on Daniel too, thinking about the moment you two will break-up due to your differences and with your heart aching in knowing that Daniel was doubtless thought about the same thing too. 

“I was a dick to you back then, right?” Present Daniel now spoke, snatching both of you right away from that moment, “I thought you were going to break up with me after summer break, and the mere reason for which I wanted you at that party was for you to see that I can still win races, that I can still be the man you felt in love with and perhaps that would have changed your mind.” Daniel confessed in full regret, finding himself in the same position as years ago with his back glued to one of the bathroom’s walls and you taking a seat next to him, “And yet all I did was to push you away more.” He then added, the imagines of that party back in Italy flashing before his eyes, and the way in which he decided not to answer your question although hearing them very well.  

“I would have loved you even if you were not to win any race ever.” You spoke, gently cupping one of his hands into yours and locking eyes for the thousandth time that night with your ex-boyfriend, “You have never been that Daniel Ricciardo to me, just Danny.” You added, rubbing one of his thumbs with yours as you softly giggled. 

That was enough for Danny to kiss you, that was enough for Danny to not restrain the urge of melting into you as he did all evening and all night. You were taken aback at first by the sudden move, and yet you would have been a liar not to admit that you craved this moment to arrive from the very first time you laid eyes on him at the bar.

You caved in, and the kiss was almost as perfect as you remember all your kisses to be. Gentle, soft, and yet unapologizing arousing something deep buried inside both – unknown lust, burning desire, and your weird sense of competing in whoever has the best teasing methods. 

For Daniel it was shortly departing from your mouth not even an inch away to make you want more of him, to crave more of your lips clasping and yet not getting what you wanted right away by Danny’s insane trick of making you wait for a split of a second before kissing again, while for you was slightly moaning into the man’s mouth to drive him more, to make him plead for more than just your lips being bonded together.  

The ‘almost’ part was that piercing feeling into your face bone structure once your noses squeezed together due to your closeness, and that was when you both remembered that you crushed your nose not even hours ago.

You were the one to break the kiss, “Auch, now it does hurt.” You whimpered, touching the tip of your nose just to check if it was still in place, “I think it is a good idea to go and check tomorrow.” You spoke, cracking a laugh in between all the whining. 

Days had passed after your kiss and sleeping together in the same bed engulfed in each other’s bodies, as you were then too tired to even think about kissing some more let alone have sex.

In all honesty you missed more sharing that kind of intimacy with Daniel rather than tearing apart each other’s clothes, and he did that too. You have not spoken about the kiss in the following days as he went away for Italy, and you stayed back in Perth booking a flight for the Monza race. You found yourself in standing in the McLaren accommodation in the paddock during the Italian weekend, as Daniel insisted for you to get a pass. 

It felt weird at first, to see and to relearn the names of everyone there – while everyone around you were asking the same question as you two: were you and Daniel getting back together? You were not able to answer the question, and you were trying to avoid it as much as possible as you stood with your hands clasped together at your chest praying for the race to go well for him. 

Daniel needed this, you thought he needed this. After the announcement of him leaving and all the tensed relations you witnessed in the paddock, you knew that a good place for him was what he would have needed to get through the remining races in the best shape possible.

It did not happen, unfortunately. When you saw the orange car stuck near the wall, you knew that Danny must have been feeling miserable as soon as you heard his engineer telling him to turn the car fully off due to him losing engine. You swore underneath your breath, fucking McLaren.

“Are you alright bud?” You asked him as soon as you spotted him getting back into the garage, watching his eyes brighten as soon as he met yours.

You were expecting him to be deeply sad, heavily disappointment of how the race ended for him knowing very much how much he fought for the win of last year. And yet, coming straight to hold you in a tight embrace, Daniel’s smile was as huge as ever without any sight of him beating himself over what happened on the track. 

“I am now.” He then spoke, whispering the words into your ear as the embrace lasted for everyone to witness your closeness, “What about I finish all these goddamn interviews and we go for a nice dinner somewhere around here?” He then asked, taking both your hands into his to kiss the back of them. 

You smiled, “What is this? Redemption for last year?” You inquired, hearing the PR manager hurrying Daniel to go. 

“For starters.” Daniel winked, “I cannot redeem myself with only one dinner for all the bad I had caused.”  He then explained, completely ignoring the people hurrying him to finish his sentences. 

“It is a good start.” You spoke nuzzling your now completely healed nose, wrapping both of your hands around the man’s neck, “I have a few things to redeem myself for as well.” You added, giving a quick peak on Daniel’s lips with yours, “Go on now, they are waiting for you.”  

That evening was as whimsical all your evenings were when alone. You talked about everything that had been going on with each other in the past year that you had not briefed yet and everything went back to normal as it should have had.

Daniel told you that he was considering a sabbatical year after the end of the season, and you told him that your plans of climbing the social ladder in the fashion word as a make-up artist had been paused for this time being after your break-up with Daniel. 

“I want to open my own salon back home.” You confessed, your hands childishly held together on the top of your table as you ate your pasta, “All the traveling and the party scene of those people are not for me.” You added, watching Daniel’s grin enlarged on the man’s face knowing that that meant at least one year not spend apart from you, “Thank you for helping me figure that.” You breathed, thinking about that one big fight of yours that was a turning point of your career as well as your relationship with him. 

“Oh, at least one year of me seeing you whenever I please and how I please back in Perth?” Daniel inquired pulling a fake eyeroll in front of you, “How can I possibly survive that?” Your not-anymore-ex-boyfriend sarcastically intoned, making you instantaneously giggling in the Italian restaurant, “I have missed this the most.” Daniel confessed as he has heard your laugh. 

“Me too.” You instantly reciprocated, tightening your grip around the man’s hand as hard as you could. 

For a moment in time – it was you and Danny again. It was just you and him, holding hands and laughing at dinner thinking about what is to come for both of you, and about all the ways in which you can built your relationship back.

It looked promising, staying with him back in your hometown where you first met and fell in love with looked promising, and that was everything you both wished for and due to that – you made it happen. 

Daniel moved back to Perth completely, taking a break for all the years that did not do him good in racing. You opened your salon, and Daniel was there for you to witness and to help in all the processes. Your boyfriend would often joke about how he was now a staying-at-home boyfriend while you were doing all the work to keep the house together. It did not bother him; Danny would have much preferred that rather than struggling with a racing team that did not do him justice.

Therefore, not much longer after you were back together for good this time, Daniel asked you to marry him, and you undoubtedly and utterly shouted the biggest “yes” just as you yelled the words “I love you” back to him at Monaco.

You had your tiny private wedding one year later and yes, you wore those silly outfits that you bought back in Vegas. 

“Are we sure of this?” Daniel asked you the night before the wedding, teasing you as you were laying naked next to him with your hand raise up at the celling admiring your wedding ring for the millionth time. 

“One hundred percent sure.” You teased back, taking both of you back to the first night you met right before pressing your lips against him for as long as eternity held for both of you. 

[mediumgayitalian]

“Piper?”

“Here.”

“Damien?”

“Here.”

“Clovis?”

No answer. Nico reaches over and pokes him, hard, and the son of Hypnos startles awake long enough to manage a garbled, “Present!” before nodding off again. At Chiron’s nodded permission, Connor procures an airhorn from what appears to be thin air, grins, and blares it right next to Clovis’ face. He shrieks, flailing off the chair, and would have slammed his face in the ground if Nico hadn’t caught him by the back of the shirt.

“Thanks, man,” he says, yawning.

Nico hauls him back upright, patting him on the shoulder. “No problem. I’m gonna let you fall next time.”

Clovis eyes him warily, shifting at Nico’s too-wide, sharklike grin.

“Noted,” he mutters, sitting straight to try and stay awake. “Jerk.”

Nico pats him on the shoulder again. “There, there.”

Chiron continues with the attendance.

“Butch?”

“Here.”

“Miranda?”

“Yep.”

“And…” Chiron sighs, peering through his reading glasses. “Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one…” He glances down at his clipboard, slowly tapping his pen on the edge of it. “Where is Will?”

A groan ripples through the gathered campers.

“Just start without him!” someone shouts, sinking into their chair.

“He always takes forever!” another person agrees.

“Almost like he’s busy running the infirmary that keeps us all alive,” Lou Ellen says drily, but her one vote of confidence is drowned out by several dozen other voices, all complaining.

Before Chiron has to deal with too much of a coup d’état, the rec room door creaks open, and Will comes strolling in after it, ignoring the heaps of boos and launched ping-pong balls at his tardiness. The beam of sunlight from the one dusty window seems, suddenly, to become a great deal stronger, highlighting the blonde of Will’s hair and strengthening the gleam of his easy grin.

“Perforated artery,” he explains cheerfully, settling down in the one empty chair. “Rogue Ares cabin mine went off. Had to do emergency surgery.”

No sooner are the words out of his mouth does he kick off his flip-flops, curl up in the rickety wooden chair, place his head on the nearest shoulder — Pollux, this time, who rolls his eyes affectionately and shifts to be more comfortable — and immediately starts snoring.

“Well,” says Chiron after a moment. “Let’s begin.”

“Wait,” Clovis complains, “how come he gets to sleep?”

Instead of answering, because there is no delicate way to say because he’s my favourite and I am a giant hypocrite, the centaur moves on. He gracefully avoids the various mutterings and calls for mutiny, instead running through the usual cabin check-ins at the speed of light to delve into the more interesting — and therefore distracting — things, such as Personal Grievances. This portion of monthly head counsellor meetings is Nico’s favourite, because he gets to sit back, be silent, and watch a bunch of teenagers yell at each other for his own personal amusement. On especially great days, he communicates with Connor through a series of complicated hand gestures to coordinate betting pools. Today, he is up seventy-two dollars. (Did he throw the pool by betting against himself and then inventing a fight with Chiara? Yeah. Did he cut her a deal for halfsies beforehand, making this technically fraud on two counts? Yeah. Can anyone prove it? Absolutely not. Suck on that, Stoll. You wanna be beat at your own game any day of the week? Nico’ll beat you at your own game any day of the week.)

As he’s accepting three dollars from a huffy Nysa (obviously the physical altercation count was going to reach six, c’mon, doesn’t she pay attention to these things), a hoof stamping the ground makes Nico jump.

“Boys,” Chiron says tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose, “that’s quite enough.”

Both campers immediately burst into louder arguments, continuing to flail and smack at each other as their voices get more and more raised and illegible.

“Boys!” Chiron stamps his hoof again. This time, they fall silent, staring at the old centaur with flushed, guilty faces. “Sherman, get Malcom out of that headlock. Malcolm, we are not building a pig pen in the dining pavilion so the Ares cabin can ‘eat in an environment more suited to their mannerisms’.” He pauses, nodding in acknowledgement. “As funny as that was, it was entirely inappropriate to say. Apologise at once.”

“My throat is too bruised to do so,” Malcom grumbles.

“My throat is too bruised to do so,” Sherman repeats, mockingly. “Gods, it’s like you’re asking for me to jump you.” At the immediate catcalls and jeers that follow, he reddens, hastily shouting, “Like mug! Jump like mug him, guys, like beat him up! Shut up! Shut up, or I swear I’ll —”

“Sit down, boys,” Chiron says, banging his hoof again. “For Hera’s sake. It’s like you want to embarrass yourselves further.”

Nico snickers with the rest of the counsellors as Sherman and Malcolm return to their seats. In their desperate attempt to separate from each other to assure their status as Heterosexual, Guys, Please, they manage to bump into each other, losing their balance and collapsing on a heap on the floor, more tangled than before. Predictably, this makes the flailing worse, which is unfortunate for them and their misery but a source of great entertainment for everyone else. Among the hooting and hollering and camera flashes, Chiron sighs, putting his head in his hands and muttering something about teenagers and being too old for this shit. Or something.

“If everyone’s quite done,” he says finally, ignoring Connor’s quip about how he could watch a few more minutes, actually, “I would love for this meeting to end. I have to do something that doesn’t involve teenagers for several hours. All of you exhaust me.”

“Except Will,” Sherman says petulantly, scowling at the still-sleeping medic. Pollux, who by close proximity has become endeared to the human disaster (Nico knows the feeling; he’s still convinced Will has weird powers that mess with one’s oxytocin levels by virtue of smiling as there is no way that someone so annoying can be so simultaneously endearing), glares somewhat protectively.

“Sh,” he hisses, at the same time Chiron says, “If the rest of you spent less time trying to kill each other and more time trying to fix the consequences of said attempted murder, I would be more lenient.”

Lou Ellen speaks up. “Also, Will has that whole cute, can’t-stay-mad-at-me thing.”

Various campers nod and mutter in agreement.

(Nico knew he wasn’t the only one.)

Nyssa clears her throat. “If we’re ready to return back to the actual meeting, I have a point of discussion.”

Chiron nods, gesturing for her to continue.

“The vans are breaking down,” she says bluntly. “Again. Because they’re, you know, older than everyone in the room.” She glances at Nico, frowning. “Well, except for him.”

Nico sniffs haughtily. “Youngin’s, these days,” he says, shaking his head disdainfully. “No respect for their elders.”

Chiron raises a bemused eyebrow. “…Indeed. Nyssa?”

“I need parts again. Preferably from that place in Virginia? They don’t ask questions and price fairly. That would be best. Only I need the van to go get the parts, so. You can see the conundrum I’m in.”

“Easy fix with the chariot,” Chiron decides. “Can someone wake Will?”

“Gladly.”

“Without the airhorn, Connor.”

“Aw. I’m not doing it, then.”

“How tragic. Pollux?”

Gently, the son of Dionysus taps Will’s cheek, shaking him until he blinks awake.

“I was totally paying attention and I think we should go with the second option,” he says, yawning.

“Not asking you to settle a debate, but nice try,” Pollux says.

“Well, shit. That one usually works.” He flicks still-tired eyes around the room, smiling when his gaze rests on Nico. Nico rolls his eyes, willing down the heat to his cheeks. Judging by the teasing edge Will’s grin takes, it does not work. “Whattaya need, then?

“The chariot,” Nyssa says. “Vans are breaking down again. I need a part from a shop in Roanoke.”

Will straightens. “Like, now?”

“In the next day or so, yeah.”

“There’s a strawberry delivery on Saturday,” Miranda pipes up. “So sooner rather than later.”

Will nods. “Yeah, that works. Hell, I can probably be back by —” he checks his watch — “late tonight, honestly. Just gimme the part number and —”

“I kind of meant that I could go,” Nyssa interrupts, looking at him strangely. “I know what the part looks like. I just need to borrow the chariot.”

Will presses his clasped hands to his face, inhaling deeply.

“I would absolutely love to lend you the chariot blessed by my father who has gone totally silent,” he begins, in a tone that makes Nico think that he would not, actually, absolutely love to lend out the chariot blessed by his father who has gone totally silent, “only that the last time I lent someone this super important chariot it came back in pieces.”

“I remember.” Nyssa levels him with a look. “I fixed it.”

“Exactly! So you appreciate how much I would like it to not be broken. In fact —”

“Alright,” Chiron interrupts, holding up a hand. “You’ve made your point, Will, the errand is yours. Choose a buddy to lower the chances of you dying and check in before you leave.”

Predictably, this choice is not well-recieved. Because why would things be easy?

“Totally not fair,” Sherman protests, the loudest of all complainers. “Will’s no less likely to break it just because his cabin thinks they own it —”

“Finish that thought and I will curse you in twelve different ways for the next eight months, Sherman.”

The Ares counsellor snaps his mouth shut, sensing the new, hardened edge in Will’s voice. “Noted.”

“He’s got a point, though,” Damien hedges. At Will’s glare — boy, is that chariot a sensitive topic, Nico is noticing — he holds his hands up, shrugging his shoulders. “We draw straws for small errand-quests, Will, you know that. It’s not fair that you just get to call dibs.”

Will takes a long, slow breath, fingers pressed to his temples. When he looks back up, his expression is flatter than the entirety of the Midwest, jaw set and eyebrow raised. He narrows his eyes, contemplating, then clearly comes to a decision, nodding to himself. Everyone watches with bated breath as he climbs up to stand on his chair, folds his hands together, clears his throat, and says, voice carefully controlled, “Who can guess how many surgeries I’ve done in the last week?”

For a long moment it’s so silent that Nico can hear every rustled shirt as people fidget, every aborted cough and uncomfortable swallow. Will’s eyes are piercing, and he takes the time to stare at every individual counsellor until they meet his eyes, squirming, and look immediately away.

Nico’s impressed. Sometimes he forgets how godsdamn rigid Will’s backbone is.

Finally, someone offers a guess.

“One?”

“Try four,” Will corrects, smile more like a bare of teeth. “I have not had a circadian rhythm since I was thirteen years old. I sleep when I can. And yet, somehow, you clumsy fucks manage to near kill yourself at the exact moment my subconscious even considers approaching REM sleep, every single time, and then I get to spend my next several hours piecing your sorry ass back together by hand, since hymns barely work right now. If I have to see another surgical pin I am going to stab it through someone’s eye. Am I making a point?”

No one answers.

“‘Cause I can make it clearer,” Will drawls.

“No need,” Chiron says hastily. “The quest remains yours, so long as there are no further objections.”

Wisely, no one speaks up.

“Perfect. Nyssa, if you’ll stay behind with me to iron out some details, everyone else — dismissed.”

The tense air immediately evaporates as people practically spring out of their seats, sprinting for the door. Nico is among the last to leave, having to stay and stop several fleeing demigods to collect his wares. On his way out, a heavy arm slings over his shoulders, and he’s suddenly enveloped by the intoxicating scent of lavender body wash and pure sunshine.

“Get off me, Solace,” he complains immediately, coming up to wrap his hand around Will’s forearm in the guise of shoving him off. Will is entirely unfazed, holding him tighter.

“But I have a proposal.”

“Take it elsewhere.” He ducks out of Will’s hold and sweeps his legs out from under him, sending him sprawling with an oof. Unfortunately, he doesn’t look any less sunny and smiley from the ground, somehow making it work for him, actually. He settles against the soft grass, sighing, hair fanning out like a golden halo. He pats the spot next to him, eyes fluttering shut as he basks in the late morning sun, and Nico swallows roughly, joining him.

“You wanna come with me to Roanoke?”

“Yes,” Nico says automatically. Will grins, and he flushes. “I mean, I guess if I have to. Loser.”

“Ever so grateful, Neeks.”

“You should be.”

He keeps his voice prim and superior, attempting to uphold his image, and since he is delusional he convinces himself he’s successful. Will, though, is entirely undeterred, lazy smile still on his face and arms stretched above his head, the picture of unbothered. A sliver of skin shows where the hem of his shirt rises and Nico ignores it. He doesn’t even glance at it, or the glint of Will’s belly-button piercing, at all. Nor is he aware of Will’s shorts riding up, or the curve of his calves as he crosses his legs. All of these things go unnoticed. Obviously.

“I have a proposal for you, if you’re done checking me out.”

Nico shoves his flaming face in his knees. “Did you know that in all the corners of the Earth I have been to, I’ve only encountered three things uglier than you?”

Will’s grin only gets wider. His eyes, even, start to get squinty as the force of his smile squishes his cheeks. Entirely unsubtly, because Will is the least subtle person alive, he reaches out and sends a wave of calming energy into Nico’s body, slowing his rapid heart rate.

“…Right.”

“Three things, Solace.”

“Of course, of course.” He removes his hand, graciously allowing Nico the space to breathe and remind his lungs that their job is not voluntary. “I’ll come pick you up in a half hour? Wear a jacket.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Nico pauses. “Yes.”

“Stellar.”

“God, you say such nerdy things unironically. How do you have friends?”

“I dunno.” He gets to his feet, brushing the dirt and grass from his shorts. “You tell me.” He leans down and presses a smacking kiss to Nico’s hair. Nico presses his fingers into his eyeballs until they hurt, screaming silently into his palms.

He waits until the smacking sounds of Will’s stupid flip-flops retreat before braving the world outside his little ball of misery, squinting at his retreating form.

“I think I should get a lobotomy,” he says out loud to himself, because, realistically, if his braincells are already spilling out of his ears like loose quarters every time Solace so much as smiles at him then there’s not much to lose, is there? and stomps off to his own cabin.

Out of spite, he chooses the New York Giants jacket he got from Percy, just because he knows Will hates it.

That’ll show him who’s bossing who around.

Totally.

———

next

[unfinishedslurs]

The boy stops in his tracks. “I know you,” he says, tilting his head curiously. He’s not tall, but he’s regal nonetheless, dressed all in white. Something about him makes Leia’s hair stand on end, and although she hides it she feels a stirring in her own chest. I know you like I know my own soul, she thinks wildly, and wonders where it came from. Has she gone insane?

“That’s nice,” she says, and shoots him anyway.

He deflects it in a flash of light, a glowing blue laser sword appearing in his hand like magic. She’s only seen one of those before, and it’s Vader’s. If this boy is anything like Vader, she realizes, she’s in deep shit.

She’s smart enough to know when she’s outmatched. Leia makes the tactical decision to run for her life.

Later, as she’s getting the hell out of there, she wonders why he didn’t try to stop her.

She remembers being young and tugging on her mothers skirts, demanding to know why their guest was so sad. “Does he not like it here?” She’d asked, and then, trembling, because Kenobi always seemed saddest around her. “Is it…because of me?”

“Oh, Leia,” her mother sighed, lifting her into her arms. “It’s not that, I promise.”

“Then what is it?”

“Master Kenobi lost a child under his care, years ago.” Breha’s eyes grew deeper, darker. “It was not his fault, but he blames himself. You remind him of that child, that’s all.”

Leia had quieted at that, contemplative.

The next time she’d seen Master Kenobi, she had given him a hug. He didn’t seem to know what to do with that, so she resolved to give him more of them. “He’s lonely,” she’d told her mother. “No one should be lonely.”

Looking at Obi-Wan Kenobi now, the memory seemed so far away. He’d aged thirty years in the ten it had been.

He looks, Leia thinks with a small twinge of regret, very lonely.

“Leia,” he greets. “It’s been a long time.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Leia sees a glint of white.

Kenobi freezes in his tracks. “Luke?” He whispers, and through the distance Leia can hear it as if he’d been speaking directly into her ear.

Master Kenobi lost a child under his care, her mother whispers in her head. He blames himself.

In an instant, Leia understands everything.

Kenobi is still staring at the boy he’d lost so long ago when Vader cuts him down.

Later, as she’s pacing around on the Falcon to Han muttering darkly about Princesses and supernatural abilities, she rememberers the way the boy collapsed, as if all his strings had been cut. Vader was too occupied with him to even look at her as she shot at him desperately.

Luke. She hates him more than she hates herself.

“They know where you are,” he hisses frantically. “They’re coming for you. You have to run.”

“Wait!” Leia quickly pulls up their sonar. Nothing yet, but it would explain the distant queasiness she’d felt since they’d landed. She tended to trust her gut. “How do you know? How much time do we have?”

“Not important, and not enough,” he says. “I have to go, and so do you. You need to leave yesterday.”

“How do I know I can trust you? I don’t even know who you are.”

He pauses. “Call me Skywalker.”

“That’s not an answer, Skywalker.”

“Yes it is.”

She opens her mouth to argue, but there are faint voices on the other end, drawing nearer.

“Shit,” Skywalker mutters. “I have to go. I’ll be in contact, okay? Don’t ever tell me where you are, or where you’re heading. Vader and Palpatine aren’t shy about reading minds. Just leave as soon as you can, and figure out the rest.”

“But—“

It’s too late. The comm has disconnected.

She stares down at it, disbelieving. How would the Empire know they’re here? Why should she trust a stranger who somehow got her personal comm code?

Gut feeling or not, on paper this was a perfect location. Supplied, armored, and most importantly, extremely well hidden. There was no real reason to think it would possibly be found out.

It’s probably a trap. Almost definitely a trap.

Han sticks his head in the door, a sour look on his face. “Hey Princess, can you tell these idiots—“

She makes a decision then and there.

“We’re leaving.”

“What?”

“We’re evacuating, effective immediately.” She pushes past him, and he follows so close he’s nearly stepping on her heel.

“Why? I think it’s pretty cozy here. Actual sunlight doesn’t hurt, either.”

“Apparently too cozy.” She grabs the first person she sees, a pilot who stares at her with wide eyes. “Emergency evacuation. Spread the word to pack everything you can and leave, I’ll let you know where we’re headed when we’re in orbit.”

He salutes and scurries off.

“Woah, hey now.” Han snatches at her elbow until she turns around to face him. “What’s going on?”

“There’s a new informant. He told me the Empire knows we’re here. They’re coming for us.”

“And you trust this person because…”

“I don’t have a choice,” she snaps. Someone runs past them, holding three packs filled to the brim with rations. “It’s either he’s lying and we’re not in danger, or he’s telling the truth and we’re going to die if we don’t listen. It’s not exactly hard math.”

It could be a trap of course, but he hadn’t suggested any sort of direction or destination to follow, and Leia wasn’t inclined to share. Especially not after his tidbit about Vader and Palpatine reading minds.

He squints at her. “That’s not it.”

“What?”

“I don’t believe you,” he insists. He’s so infuriating. Leia doesn’t know why she hasn’t kicked him out yet.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do, and you’re either gonna tell me why, or find a different transport when we head out of here.”

“Who said I was riding on your hunk of junk?” She demands. She actually was planning on going with them, since the Falcon has more than enough room for all the supplies that can’t fit in the other ships and none of the trustworthiness of the other pilots, but Han doesn’t need to know that.

“Well?”

Damn him. Damn him for knowing how to read her. She doesn’t know when she let that happen.

“I feel it,” she admits, defeated. “Something tells me he’s trustworthy. We’ll wait and see if it’s right.”

He studies her. She holds her head high, but inside she’s jittery at the scrutiny. They don’t have time for this.

“Yeah, all right,” Han finally says.

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” He rolls his eyes, like she’s not acting absolutely insane by putting all her trust in a random man she’s never even met. “Now come on, Princess, weren’t you the one who said we had to hurry?”

What is it about this man that makes it impossible to tell whether she wants to punch him or drag him into the nearest supply closet? They don’t have time to find out.

“So there’s good news and bad news.”

“Bad news first,” she demands.

“They know there’s a mole.”

“Shit.” Of course they know, how could they not? She should have been more careful, less obvious about the correlation of their movements with the Empire’s plans. “The good news?”

“They’ve tasked me with hunting down this ‘pathetic rebel spy,’” Skywalker says, humor in his voice. “That should buy me some time.”

Leia can’t quite stop the snort she lets out. “Seriously?”

“Yep. You’re speaking to a professional mole-hunter, here.”

“Well congratulations on the promotion, Skywalker.”

“Thank you,” he says grandly. Then, quieter, “It won’t last, Princess. They’ll find out eventually.”

“I know. Just hang in there, it will be over soon.”

“Will it?” He asks, suddenly sounding very young. She realizes that she has no idea how old he is. She doesn’t know anything about the man who has saved them more times than she cared to admit, and the idea rattles her until they sign off.

Later, she looks up the name Skywalker in their archives. There are a few results, but only one sticks out.

Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight and hero of the Clone Wars. Killed at the hands of Darth Vader. There are gossip articles too, speculations on his relationship with the pregnant Senator Padmé Amidala, who died around the same time Skywalker did. The baby, it seems, died with her.

Unless he didn’t.

It’s ridiculous. It’s impossible. The idea is so ludicrous that Leia almost rejects it entirely.

But it makes sense. By the Maker, it makes sense.

The child of Anakin Skywalker, it seems, would be a powerful Force user indeed. Powerful enough for Kenobi to take the baby and run. Powerful enough for the Emperor to want him for his own gain. Powerful enough to send Vader after Kenobi and take the boy himself.

Maybe even powerful enough to shield his mind from Vader and Palpatine’s intrusions.

Powerful enough to hide the fact that he’s a spy.

Leia sinks into her chair, covering her face as she laughs.

Maybe Luke isn’t so bad after all.

“No, no, no,” she mutters, digging through the smoking wreckage of the TIE fighter. “Don’t be dead, please don’t be dead.”

“Princess…” Han lays a hand on her shoulder that she immediately shrugs off.

“No, he’s not dead. He’s not. Luke!”

A faint cough answers her, and she’s so relieved to hear it she could cry. Behind her, Han starts bellowing for a medic and, “Some damn help here, do you expect us to move all this ourselves?”

“Luke, it’s me,” she sobs. “It’s Leia. You’re at the Rebel Base. You’re safe.”

More coughing, and there’s a worrying rasp to his voice when he says, “You know…my name?”

“I figured it out.”

“Smart.” This time, the coughing is so bad Leia and Han both wince.

“Shit, kid,” Han says, moving another piece of rubble. “Don’t talk. We’re gonna get you out of here, all right?”

“Stand back,” Luke chokes out.

“What?”

“Stand back. Please.”

Han protests, but something in Leia knows they should listen to him. She drags him back, and motions everyone else to fall back with them. They do, albeit reluctantly.

“Clear,” she calls, hoping Luke can hear her.

The TIE explodes.

“Fuck!” Han goes back in, Leia on his heels with the terrifying feeling that she’d just allowed Luke to die, before they both stop in their tracks. Around them, the broken pieces of the TIE are floating.

And curled up in the middle is a man dressed all in white.

“Luke!” She pushes past Han to start dragging him out, and after another moment of staring around them, he helps her.

As soon as they get clear, the pieces fall to the ground with a clatter. Luke falls limp with them.

Han is still looking at the TIE. “Can you do that?” He asks quietly.

Leia pauses her examination of the unconscious man in front of her to glare at him. “Is that what you’re most concerned with right now? Really?”

“Excuse me for asking, Princess!”

“It’s white,” Luke grumbles, pulling at his hospital gown bitterly. “I hate wearing white.”

“Should I be offended?”

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t even. You look great and you know it. I just feel like I never left.”

“Well,” she says gingerly. “I guess it’s a good thing you got sick of it. If we went around in matching outfits all the time, people might think we’re twins.”

He snorts. “Yeah, right.”

[sysig]

You're still standing off to the side. Somehow, center stage has shifted from under your feet without you realizing, and you're standing in the wings, performing to no one.

Starring Role (Patreon)

[purplecatghostposts]

Chloé, ducked behind a table and cocking her Nerf Gun: You’re lucky anyone bothers with you at all, considering you’re a less interesting version of your cousin!

Félix, finger on the trigger of his own Nerf Gun, waiting for Chloé to pop up again: You’re just mad that I have a girlfriend and you don’t.

Chloé: YOU TAKE THAT BACK! YOU’RE DEAD, FATHOM!

Félix: YOU HAVE ONE BULLET LEFT SO YOU BETTER MAKE IT COUNT, BOURGEOIS!

Kagami, watching from the sidelines: I… Have never seen him like this. Is this normal?

Adrien, his own Nerf Gun discarded and just snacking on crackers: Yeah, they’ve always been like this. It’s fine though, they’ll stop if either of them actually gets hurt and usually it helps get some pent up aggression out. The game will probably be over in about… Ten minutes? Probably less.

Kagami: I see… And this is because they’re both drama queens?

Adrien: Pretty much!

Kagami: Fascinating.

[missingn000]

hey all! i wrote a what-if character study & action fic for if king fought sanji instead of zoro during the raid on onigashima. i'd really love if you gave it a read! thanks so much!

link

playlist

happy reading!

[thekittyokat]

you ever just have a lot, a LOT of feelings all at once about a character and not even remotely enough words or brainpower to FORM the words to describe everything you're feeling. so it feels like you may explode. yeah

[mishy-mashy]

Bruce is actually really attractive, and I have enough reasoning to make a list

He's:

Tall (. Tall enough to hit his head on the vault doorframe)

Long-legged

Has a straight nose bridge

Has high cheekbones (more noticeable in 2nd pic below)

Has a strong jawline

Sharp eyes, but they aren't small (plus eyebags if you're into that)

Overall, he has strong, attractive facial features

Has broad, refined shoulders. You can tell he works out (or he did, when he was alive)

Even has a thick, muscly neck

He has MUSCLE. Is SCULPTED. NOICE. VERY NOICE. (nice arms. Nice shoulders. Nice neck. Nice legs. Nice butt-)

(There are actually panels where you can see some of his muscles. Other than those already shown here, he's got bricky thighs-

-and in the panels where we first get his name dropped, he's got those shoulder blades too-)

The one time we see him smile, and he actually has a scary one

Has small, kinda sharp pupils, and his eyes remind me of a cat. We only ever saw him tense or defensive, so his resting/listening face is really cute

Other than the physical appearance stuff, he also:

Takes shit without batting an eye (patience, knowing it's just how Kudo is, etc)

Kudo being all "Cut the crap Bruce and give it to me straight", after Bruce tests his blood and is rightfully Concerned because they just faced AFO

Put up with Kudo's experimenting and testing over Yoichi's transferable Factor

Did ya'll see the look on Kudo's face when he realized he had Yoichi's Factor/will? Kudo was going to start in nonsense and Bruce just dealt with that.

Also something I noticed when looking back at the images here; Bruce has bandages on his arms in the void. But not when he faced AFO in the sewers.

Were he and Kudo cutting their arms open in their experimenting over Yoichi's theory? Is this why Kudo has two gauntlets instead of his one? Why we never see his bare arms in the void? That he always keeps his arms down so there's no slip?

Is smart enough to run blood tests, plus has enough common sense to pick Shinomori as his successor

He picked a guy who avoids society, has an Ability to detect danger so he can always stay away from AFO, is also a coward so he's never going to go throw himself into danger, even without knowing instinctively he stands no chance, etc.

Meanwhile, Kudo chose Bruce, who he played Hot Potato Yoichi with; but he did also trust Bruce, and put the only pure combative Ability in OFA through Bruce.

These two made their choices based on what they valued and saw the Factor needed.

Is logical, analytical, and calm.

He tried advising Midoriya on their Abilities in One For All, especially his own.

Midoriya then tried ignoring him about using Fa Jin for the first time, but found he was right, thinking: "Dammit!! I had [Lady Nagant] right where I wanted her, but... ugh! The Third was right. My parallel Quirk processes are all screwed up!" (ch. 314).

Plus, when Midoriya fixed his processing mistakes, Bruce was analyzing the way he reached his new conclusion. Pure facts, no bias, very calm, just saying it as it was.

We never see him panic. When he's caught by surprise in the sewers by AFO, Kudo, and Yoichi's little bubble event, he immediately reacts. He doesn't falter, he just knows he has to do something right now.

Was more willing to listen than Kudo to Yoichi's beckon, and probably was just following Kudo's rejection of Midoriya

While we don't see Kudo's face, we see Bruce's eyes when Yoichi calls on his heroes. Bruce was more open and receptive, or at least more impacted.

Bruce was also the one to start talking, while Kudo just kept quiet.

He actually communicates a lot

When Yoichi called them to support Midoriya, Bruce started talking to paint a picture of why they thought the way they did, so Yoichi understood where they were coming from.

(Though he seems to beat about the bush sometimes, since Kudo spoke up to be direct on how they couldn't just put their trust in some starry-eyed teenager. Plus, when Kudo tells him to just tell him what's wrong [double Factors])

When Midoriya first used Fa Jin against Nagant, Bruce came out just to tell him he knew what he was trying, but that Midoriya wasn't ready; and Midoriya found he was right. Midoriya just didn't want to listen to him then.

He asks Kudo for clarification after finding Kudo had two Factors in him after the sewer incident ("Just to be sure, All For One didn't touch you, right?") Kudo knew him well enough to go "stop beating around the bush and tell me", so Bruce was probably gonna start with questions, theories, and trying to understand everything in general, before saying "yeah you have two Factors. Don't know why".

Is strong-willed and loyal.

He followed Kudo, even to death, carrying on the cause he started until it ended with him.

Plus, when talking about how AFO needs a strong will to override OFA's own, we first see Bruce, Kudo, and Yoichi.

AFO couldn't steal OFA because the will was too strong for him, and that was back during Banjo's time. Since Shinomori never actually tried opposing AFO and just hid, we can assume the first Three (Yoichi, Kudo, Bruce) already had an accumulation of strong willpower that made OFA un-stealable. Those three are a strong enough foundation, and the main wills, that the other users just become bonuses.

Kudo, also saying that Midoriya needs allies with the same will and drive as him... hey Kudo, you're talking about yourself and your old allies, aren't you? That's why you look at Yoichi and Bruce when you say this.

Not only is Bruce attractive, but he's got good character. THE END.

[paunchsalazar]

keep thinking about Scott and Wallace going back to their apartment for the first time since his presumed death (because I think even if they’re going to try and be a couple no way he’s moving in with Ramona after one date and an encounter with their future selves) even if his death might’ve gotten him out of their lease. actually.. now that he’s back… he probably needs to pay rent…

all his stuff is still there, except for the jacket, some clothes are still on the floor (because Wallace hasn’t really been home all that much, okay!) his toothbrush is still in the cup on the sink.. they have accidentally used each other’s so many times anyway, why throw it out…

getting ready for bed and getting into their shared futon.. was it always this small? can’t believe Wallace ends up living in a huge mansion and that Scott is still crashing at his place…

[crow-with-a-pencil]

Hi @naffeclipse I'm very normal about your fic. Have some frantic midnight sketches as extra kudos along with some tag rambling :)

[shaarlslec]

pt3 of the danny series!!!!! i had to pause my music and take a moment before i started it AND!!! DID NOT DISAPPOINT!!!! amazing work once again <33

aaaaaaaaaaaa thank you so much for liking it!! i had to take pauses while i wrote it too;;;

[caeslxys]

Something I think is extremely interesting thematically when it comes to connecting what Downfall and the ideas it tackled to the overarching narrative of campaign three is that the things Downfall made a point to showcase of Aeor—Cassida, Hallis, the visual of an aeormaton proposing to her partner, the specific and intentional decision to shed light on a far from insignificant amount of the population being civilians or refugees—is that it plays in perfect parallel across from what is happening (and, really, has been happening) to the ruidusborn on Exandria in present.

Bear with me for a moment. Aeor is ultimately a city that was collectively punished for the decisions of its leadership. We could (and, judging by the amount of discourse around this particular topic already, probably will) argue about what the Gods’ motivation for all of this was—whether it be that they could not, in the end, bear to kill their siblings or that they were terrified at the prospect of mortality—for me it is a very healthy dose of both—but for this I am much more interested in the latter. They were scared. That, really, is the driving force behind both this arc and their role in c3 as a whole.

Why I point this out is: It is far more interesting to me, especially as we go back to Bells Hells this week, to dissect the Gods and their decisions not purely on sympathetic motivation alone but as beings in the highest seat of power in the highest social class in Exandria.

So, having established that the Gods (in relation to mortals) are more a higher social class than anything we could compare to our real life understanding of divinity and that Aeor was eviscerated largely because of their fear—what is the difference between those innocents in Aeor caught in the trappings of their autocratic government leadership and a divine war on the ground, and those of the ruidusborn being manipulated both by Ludinus and by the very thing that inspired such visceral fear in the Gods to start with. I would argue very little.

I think of Cassida, doing what she genuinely thought was right and good and would save people, her son, and the object of her worship—and how that did not matter enough to any of them to spare her because of the fear they held at the very concept of mortality. I think of Liliana and Imogen, one of which we know begged for the gods to help her or send her a sign for years on years, and how every single one of their largest struggles could have been avoided had the gods loved them, their supposed children, as much as they feared what they could be. I think of how the thing that did save Imogen, in the end, was a woman who herself existed in direct defiance of the gods will. I think of that young boy, sixteen years old, that Laudna exalted on Ruidus.

I think it’s completely fair to judge Aeor’s overall society as deeply corrupt—it was!—but its leadership and police force are not a reflection of every one of its citizens. Similarly, it is fair to judge the Ruby Vanguard as corrupt—it is!—but its multiple heads of leadership and even the god-eater further are not a reflection of every one of its members.

Notably, and what I think the Hells will latch onto, this did not matter to the Gods. It did not matter that Cassida was trying to help. She was still too much of a risk. Will it matter, what Imogen does? Will it matter, if that young boy is in the blast radius when they decide to take no further chances?

I’ve seen a lot of people say that the Hells will side with the gods and I don’t think I agree. Especially as Imogen has been scolded and villainized over and over for daring to try and save her mother—who herself has been seen by some as an irredeemable evil in spite of her drive being the exact same—her family—but when it’s the Gods it’s justified? When it’s the Gods, it’s sympathetic? Too sympathetic to criticize further than “they’re family”?

I obviously do not think the Gods should die or be eaten or what have you, and I certainly don’t agree with Ludinus (though I find him much more compelling than just a variation of hubris wizard), but when talking about the Gods in Aeor and in present it isn’t really at all about their motivation or their family. It can’t be. Too many people, including our active protagonists, lives have been effected for it to be as cut and dry as “they’re family”. These are your children. They are your family, too.

[demaparbat-hp]

I didn't know Katara also had silver marks on the Kintsugi AU. How did you come up with that idea? Is it an in-universe cultural thing? If it is, is it exactly the same as Zuko's or does the Water Tribe have their own beliefs around it?

Sorry if I'm asking too many questions, I just really love how your mind works when it comes to these AUs 💖

Hello, and thanks for asking!

Initially, Kintsugi was a strictly Fire Nation tradition. Something to hold over the rest of the nations, and deepen their own belief of cultural superiority. Zuko hiding his scars played into that idea, since having gold inlaid in your body is a clear sign of Fire Nation blood—furthermore, High Fire Nation blood.

That being said, one lovely anon gave the suggestion that perhaps the other nations also have their own kinds of Kintsugi, and I fell in love with the idea. @ican-fixitbooks went even deeper into the particular philosophies of each nation regarding Kintsugi. I'll be using some quotes from them—watch for the italics.

It was during said brainstorming session that I thought of Katara having a silver Kintsugi scar, and how could it be used to enhance the themes of ATLA, Katara's arc, and this AU as a whole.

But a little background is necessary, I believe.

Kintsugi is a tradition practiced worldwide, with minor differences in philosophy/technique according to each nation.

The Earth Kingdom seal their scars with a substance that resembles bronze, as the mentality of breaking yourself down to build yourself back up better than you were is very central to their culture. It is used as a way to celebrate one's victories, made all the better if damage was taken to achieve it.

The elite have rather different views on this practice. They believe themselves to be above such things. That which is broken must be hidden away, which has interesting connotations when thinking about a certain blind earthbender.

The Air Nomad philosophy leans towards a naturalist approach. Anything natural doesn't need to be "improved" in their eyes. If a scar is there, it is there. Let it be there as a part of you, no different than any other, no need to be "made better", but in fact better to just "be".

Kintsugi is a cultural practice meant to celebrate making something beautiful out of something broken, arguably even making it better than it was. During Sozin's reign and forward, Kintsugi became a way to show the Fire Nation's superiority. Especially as that is essentially their philosophy for war: "Breaking the rest of the world so it can be reforged in fire, made a better, more perfect place."

As for the Water Tribes, there's the healing factor to take into account. The Northern Water Tribe isolated itself from the rest of the world once the war began, so they hold tight to their traditions and beliefs. If something is not broken, then why attempt to fix it? Kintsugi is scoffed at in the North—it is a foreign practice, one that is not necessary when all your wounds can be healed with bending.

However, the Southern Water Tribe has been exposed to the world. They have seen war. They have lived through it. They have suffered, but they are also free because of it, if only in spirit. The South is strong and proud and bold, so it comes as no surprise that silver Kintsugi becomes the mark of their warriors, their hunters, their people.

Katara was wounded during the last Southern Raid. After losing Kya in such a terrible way, Hakoda made sure to seal Katara's wound with the silver of their warriors, so that she would always remember that despite having been broken, she is still strong, beautiful, and proud.

The scar itself is long and thin, going from her right shoulder up to her jaw. It loosely resembles lightning.

And despite how she got it, despite all the things she lost on that day, despite it being a constant reminder of her mother's death—Katara loves her scar.

It grounds her. It pushes her forward. You are a warrior, it tells her. You are a survivor.

When Katara arrives at the North, her scar becomes yet another thing the Northerners hold against her. They use it to demean her, just as they do her gender and out-spoken personality.

The North believes a lot of things that Katara always considered natural to be a problem. What does it matter that she is a woman? What is wrong about being passionate? Why should having a scar mean she's broken?

This scar is something they cannot touch. The Northerners try to use it to demean her. To make her small. Self-conscious. Worthless.

They're scoffing at her mother's death.

Her strength.

Her beauty.

Her pride.

Her story.

And she will not allow it.

[muirmarie]

Me: I joke about writing the same McCoy centric story over and over again in different ways

Me: and like. I love doing it and imma keep doing it because it makes me happy.

Me: but also. I do sometimes wonder if it's like. A little Much.

Me: like maybe I should branch out or something

Me: [reads another fundamental and extremely insulting misread of McCoy's character by someone who is clearly making a Choice to cast McCoy as the villain, because they have to get him out of the way of spirk, because they're too???? idk immature??? to realize that even when you're in a relationship with one person, other ppl can and SHOULD still be important to you]

Me: lmao I hope I AM too much actually!!!! I hope it is 100% obnoxious how much I love that doctor!!!!! Time to write more versions of the same story of McCoy being forced to realize that he is loved and cared for!!!!!!

Me: I KNOW MY NICHE AND IMMA DIE IN THAT NICHE, THANKS

[purplink8]

Currently in mood of reading a fanfic about- Light in a misguided attempt at making his repressed gay feelings towards L go away writing a slow burn Kira/L fanfic, L is a serial commentor of course (who's also a personal favorite commentor of Light), Nobody knows each others' identities and that somehow ends up with Light & L getting together irl??

[wishluc]

Floyd likes the expressions you make around him.

He likes the unrestrained grin on your face when he brings you a glass of the Mostro Lounge's new exclusive drink, and the shy smile when he slinks up to your side and casually puts his arm around you. He likes the dumbfounded look you have when you walk into your room to find him sprawled across your bed with his face in your pillow, and the hesitant turn of your lips when he confesses to you just how much he likes you.

And he's content with everything he's seen, the lopsided smiles, the bashful glances, the irritated sighs and everything else you've had to offer.

But his favorite is undoubtedly the faces you make when you get scared.

Funnily enough, it's a simple game of hide and seek, where he volunteered to be the seeker in, that helps him realize this.

He's not sure who asked for it or how it started, but all the students staying in NRC over the break were starting to get restless, and somehow that lead to a game being started. Initially, he thought to mess with some underclassmen, but something about you caught his eye, and his first prey was picked. He doesn't care for how the game begun, anymore—all he does care about now, though, is you, and the way your footsteps sound as you scurry away from him. At first, he only listens for the thud that echoes when you bump into a door, and your shoes landing on the ground as you hoist yourself over an obstacle, but soon he takes notice of your frantic panting and the curses you mutter under your breath (It makes him smile, it does, seeing such a cute creature like you lose your mind over a silly game). As he stalks closer to you, slowly cornering you into an inescapable point behind a closet door, he can feel his own heart pick up, eagerly anticipating your next moves.

And oh, nothing could prepare him for this.

You look lovely, he thinks, eyes widened and a thin sheen of sweat on your face and neck. Your shaky exhale and clenched hands, your pounding heartbeat and the fear that practically radiates of you. You're so delectable like this, but Floyd's afraid a comment about eating you up at this time may cause you to explode in terror.

Floyd's own eyes are narrowed on you, and slightly shaken by his silent staring, you decide to break the silence first.

"Floyd!" your following laugh is forced, though he could hardly care, "you nearly scared the life out of me."

No, that wasn't nearly as bad as he wanted, none of the screaming, trembling fingers or teary-eyed pleading, he'd hoped for, but Floyd doesn't tell you this. He grins in response, all teeth and malice—after all, he's never been one to back down from a challenge.

And he can't help but be curious—what other adorable expressions are you hiding from him?

all works © wishluc. do not copy, steal or repost my works on other platforms. (including translations)