#i don't know how else to tag this besides like.

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Merry Christmas, baby.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x f!reader Rating: just a little tiny bit of smut so still +18 but it’s mostly a huge pile of angst and fluff soooo Words Count: 10669 😵‍💫 Tags: POV second person, reader wears dresses, skirts, blouses and heels, she uses make up, she’s a journalist and a writer, no physical description of her is given besides having hair, angst, fluff, friends to lovers, slow burn, loss of a parent, infidelity, divorce, mention of food, alcohol consumption, both reader and Pike are bad at feelings, swearing, slurs, dirty talk, quarrels, reconciliations, funeral, sharing a bed, kissing, sad thoughts, casual encounters, mention of coffee, mention of spring break activities, geography probably a bit random (but I looked at the maps, don't jump down my throat, I did research and I've actually been to Boston many years ago, I tried my best lol), brief mention of Teresa. I hope I haven't forgotten anything, if so I'll add it immediately. A/N: Written for @pedrostories Secret Santa event, hello @letsgobarbs, I’m your Secret Santa! 🤶 Happy Christmas Eve, I hope you'll have a wonderful holiday season! 🎄 I hope you enjoy this story and I hope you find the angst, yearning and pining you wanted. Among the characters you had indicated as favorites there was Pike and I liked the idea of ​​trying to write him for the first time, he is so sweet and cute and he deserves to be happy, I hope I gave him an ending worthy of him 🥹 I apologize if you find any mistakes, English is not my first language and I don't have a beta so I did it all with just one pair of stupid and tired eyes 😵‍💫

A huge thanks goes to all the lovely people who supported me through the process while I was having a full crisis about everything in this fic 😂 @baronessvonglitter @almostempty @arcanefox207 @joelmillerisapunk I love you all, happy holidays 🥰

1990

“So what do you think?” 

“Um...you're good” You've just heard the ugliest Take on Me cover ever, but you can't tell the guy standing in front of you and looking at you with hopeful eyes. 

Marcus is your best friend, you've known him for a couple of years, since both of you were two dorky freshmen at your new school. You were looking for the literature room and wandering lost in the hallways when Marcus asked if you needed help. You bonded right away because you didn't know anyone else, you had just moved to Sacramento because of your father's job and he was from Texas, so it had seemed natural to lean on each other.

Over time you had become such good friends that he had met your parents, he would often stay for dinner, and your dad would let him use your garage to rehearse with his band. 

Marcus had put up flyers at school and enlisted two other boys, Timmy and Dave, who became the guitarist and keyboardist of Rocket Baby Doll. The name of the band was terrible, they were terrible, but you had never had the courage to tear them down in the face of Marcus's enthusiasm, he was sure that by continuing to rehearse they would make great progress. 

With his smooth talk, Marcus had managed to convince the committee to let them play at the freshmen's Christmas dance.

“You'll see that one day we'll be on the cover of Rolling Stone,” Marcus joked. Or at least you hoped he was joking because otherwise you wouldn't know how to talk him out of it. 

Marcus was a dreamer and he liked to do it big. He wanted to be a musician, or maybe an FBI agent, he told you. Two careers that had nothing to do with each other, but you knew that if anyone could afford to have ambitions it was him. Marcus was tenacious, persistent, dedicated, and never afraid to work hard to get what he wanted.  He certainly wasn't going to end up on the cover of Rolling Stone, but in your heart you were certain he was going to accomplish something important.

He was the kind of boy mothers liked, in fact yours loved him. When you needed math tutoring, he would come to your house totally for free and explain whatever you didn’t understand.

When Molly Preston wanted to exclude you from the winter dance because her ex-boyfriend, Ryder, had asked you out, he had been the one to give her a speech.

When you had a bad day Marcus would take you to get your favorite ice cream, you would talk for hours, and in the end he was the only one who could cheer you up.

Whatever problems you had, Marcus was there for you landing an helping hand. 

You knew your mother not too secretly hoped you would get together but it never happened, Marcus was your friend, just a great friend.

“Come on, my mom made cookies for everyone,” you told him as he continued to fantasize about what you might do. You would be their manager and you would both become rich and famous. He just couldn't keep his feet on the ground, even though he was a very good student and even had better grades than you.

You were 17 years old, your whole lives ahead of you, and you hoped that you will remain friends for many years to come.

_____________________________________________

1993

“What do you mean there is only one room available! We had booked two!” 

Marcus had yelled at the front desk of a motel where you stopped for the night. 

The owner, a rather creepy guy with a long scar on his right cheek, slumps in his shoulders, heedless “If you want number 12 is free, otherwise you can take your asses somewhere else for all I care.”

Marcus was fuming. 

It was spring break, any hotel was totally booked, and the possibilities were already significantly reduced given your pockets. 

You didn't even want to come; you had just broken up with Derek, your college boyfriend, and were back at your parents' house with the intention of spending your vacation there healing your wounds. Vegetating on the couch, reading books, watching movies, just relaxing. That was what you wanted to do. But Marcus had insisted, “Erik, Alice, Kate and Robert are in San Diego, let's join them!” 

You had shaken your head and declined “No way, I've seen enough wild college parties and besides, I'm not really in the mood.” 

“Oh come on, you don't want to spend Spring Break crying over that jerk,” he had said, shrugging and looking at you with his big brown puppy-dog eyes. 

“Marcus, I really don't feel like it.” 

“Come on, please do it for me! You'll see we'll have fun, they're nice!” Surrounding yourself with drunk and stoned 20-year-olds was the least of your desires. 

But on the other hand you felt you couldn't say no to him, it had been months since you had seen each other, your relationships had been reduced to long letters and phone calls telling each other about each other's schools.

You had chosen different colleges, Marcus had been accepted at Berkeley in California and you were at Boston University. You had changed coast, climate, everything. You were content but adjusting the first months had not been easy, you felt homesick and you missed your best friend. You were happy for him, you had known since your senior year that you were going to separate but that hadn't made it easy for you. 

You had only seen each other in person at Thanksgiving.

He had been forced to go to his relatives in Nevada for Christmas.

So you got dragged down to San Diego, because deep down Marcus was right, brooding all vacation about the relationship with Derek would not be good for you. You had had other guys before him but Derek had been special, until you found out he was cheating on you. You cried for hours on the phone with Marcus and he listened to you the whole time so maybe you owed him a little too.

After insisting on getting at least a room refund, Marcus had turned to you displeased “apparently we have no other choice.” 

“We'll adjust” you had smiled, but you couldn't deny that you were a little nervous. 

Once in the room he, too, seemed self-conscious. 

There was a double bed with a hideous floral bedspread in the middle of the room, brownish carpeting on the floor, dingy pictures hanging on the walls, and an old dresser on the opposite side of the bed with a rickety TV on it.

A smell of cheap deodorant with a musty undertone wafted around. It was the worst room I had ever set foot in, but at this point there was nothing you could do but make it okay. Sleeping in the car didn't seem so appealing.

You had set your bags down and looked at each other awkwardly “This room is awful,” Marcus had whispered, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand “I'm sorry, it didn't look that bad from the brochure.” 

“It's not your fault, I bet those pictures were taken at least 20 years ago” you had laughed ”it will do for one night” 

You had retrieved your pajamas from the suitcase and went to the bathroom. The light blue tiles made it look like a hospital, there was an old plastic curtain in the shower and the sink looked like it had been through a war but at least it looked clean. There was a strong smell of disinfectant that made you a little nauseous. You had changed quickly and returned to your room to Marcus who was sitting on the bed intent on calling his parents “Yes mom, everything is fine, we will be back tomorrow. Yes, sure, don't worry I'll definitely say hello to her, she's in her room now” You had noticed that he had not said anything about your misadventure, you had sat down smiling on the opposite side of the bed trying to be silent. 

Marcus had rolled his eyes closing the call “she is so old-fashioned.” 

You had laughed “I find her lovely” 

Marcus had chuckled “we'd better sleep, we have a lot of driving tomorrow. Are you okay with that side?”

“Yes, it’s fine” you had nodded ”however I'd rather get this bedspread out of the way, it gives me nightmares even when awake” 

Marcus had observed it agreeing that yes, it was rather eerie.

You had taken it off and laid it on the dresser before slipping under cold, scratchy and wrinkled sheets.

You looked at each other and burst out laughing, the situation was comical to say the least. “God, I think I won't forget this bed for a long time,” Marcus had said. 

“It feels like being in a burlap sack.” You had laughed.

“Could you not squirm like that?” 

“Sorry, I'm just looking for ways to be comfortable,” you had said, ”Mattress is lumpy.” 

You had laid on your side with your back to him and closed your eyes, trying to sleep. 

“So, did you have a good time?” you had heard Marcus whisper.

“Yes” you had replied “thank you” And it was true, his friends were really nice. You had bonded with the girls and exchanged addresses and phone numbers “you were right, I needed a vacation”

“I know, I'm always right” he had sentenced from the other end of the bed.  

You had turned to look at him "oh sure, like the other night when we ended up at that beach party and you said it was allowed and then we had to run away because the police were coming?”

“It was just a little misjudgment!” He retorted.

You had burst out laughing again “come on, sleep, Mr I know everything”

Marcus had turned off the lamp on the bedside table, next to the phone with which he had just called his mother “Hey...I need to tell you something” you had heard him say. 

“What?” the tone had suddenly changed and you felt confused, you looked over your shoulder at him in the dark. 

“I kissed Alice the other night” he seemed awkward in telling you and you didn't understand why.

“Oh. Well, good for you. She's a lovely girl” he was your friend, you were happy for him. 

If it weren't for the fact that you secretly hoped he would kiss you. You'd been thinking about it for a few days, ever since you'd seen him come out of the water while you were at the beach.

It had seemed to you that everything had started moving in slow motion, your eyes glued to his tanned skin, to his broad shoulders, to the way the water slid over his chest in little droplets that died on the waistband of his swimsuit. It was a feeling you had never experienced before in five years of knowing him. You had never seen Marcus as anything more than a friend, but in that moment, with his hair disheveled, his skin wet, a smile plastered on his face as he told you and the others that ocean was great, he had seemed like a vision, and you had felt your cheeks heat up. 

Where on earth that attraction came from you didn't know, but it had hit you hard and clear, like a bump on the head that had suddenly awakened you. You had convinced yourself that your brain was doing this to protect you from painful memories with Derek, lingering on your closest friend who had never let you down. Your trust in men was at its lowest, and Marcus had always reassured you, kept you out of trouble, and he was most reliable guy you had ever known.

He said he would do something and he always, unfailingly did it. You could not say the same about Derek or any other guy you had ever been with.

You had tried to chase that feeling away, burying it in the corner of your mind for all the following days; you didn't want to ruin the friendship between you, and you were pretty sure he didn't feel the same way about you.

Sure, you thought you kissed him on your 18s birthday while you were drunk, but the next morning you were so ashamed that you hadn't even told him about it, pretended you didn't remember anything and that it had never happened. Marcus had done the same, and everything had ended there. Two years had passed since that night, you had gone to college, you had both had more or less long relationships.

That one kiss was now so far away that you had listed it among “once-in-a-lifetime mistakes.”

"I wanted to tell you, that's it. Friends tell each other everything, right?"

“Yes, of course, you can tell me anything, I’m happy for you” you replied 

You had listened to Marcus talk about the girls he liked dozens of times and you had never cared, you would have certainly forgotten it, it was just a passing crush, you told yourself. That annoyance you felt, that bitter taste in your throat, would disappear after a night's sleep. Your friendship was more important, you wouldn't have ruined it just because your brain had thought it interesting to make it something more.

Yet when you had tried to sleep all you had seen was Marcus kissing Alice. You had not seen them, fortunately, but it was not a hard scene to imagine, and unfortunately it was now implanted in your brain. His strong arms holding her, his soft lips resting on hers, her surrounding his neck with her arms, her pelvis rubbing against his. Suddenly you couldn't stand it. You had narrowed your eyes, cursing your creative mind, grunting in frustration. 

“Hey, is everything okay?” had asked Marcus from the other side of the bed.

You had lied, of course, but you had kept brooding until you fell asleep exhausted by the workings of your brain.

In the morning you had woken up confused, not at all rested, and in his arms.

Your face was resting on his chest next to your hand. How had you ended up there like that? You didn't know. You felt like you didn't know anything anymore. 

He was blissfully asleep. He seemed unaware of anything as your throat was dry, your head ached, and your pussy throbbed. Yes, throbbing, desperately. The warmth of his body, the scent of his skin, that knowledge you felt inside that this was exactly what you wanted and you couldn't even quantify how long you had wanted it.

And the panic that had seized you immediately afterward. You were convinced it was a mistake, the most terrible mistake you could make. So why did it feel so right? Why did his body feel like it was made for you? Oh no, no you couldn't allow that. Certainly he had no idea whatsoever about the situation, there was no way he was aware and let you do it, it was all your fault. 

You were going to ruin everything, your friendship, your relationship with the one man who really seemed to understand and support you. And for what? To fuck him once? It wasn't going to work between you romantically. You were going to have to spend two more years away seeing each other only during the holidays to begin with, and then you were both stubborn, too proud...no, it was wrong, you didn't care what your body told you, you had to let your brain prevail.

You slowly slipped away, back to your side of the bed, practically holding your breath, cursing yourself and your heart that wouldn't stop hammering in the middle of your chest.

He had woken up shortly after, acted as usual, getting up, stretching in his T-shirt and basketball shorts, mumbled good morning to you and locked himself in the bathroom. 

Your eyes had slid lasciviously over his body, stealing glances of his exposed skin between his T-shirt and shorts, of his broad shoulders stretching the fabric, of his thighs...

All while you wanted to sink into a black hole and disappear forever. You sank your face into the pillow to keep yourself from screaming. 

And what was worse was that you had to carry the burden of what you felt alone because the person you would normally talk to about it was the one you were longing for. Wonderful, a wonderful situation. 

When he had come out of the bathroom, with his beautiful smile and that rough voice that he always had early in the morning you almost lost control. You were about to beg him to join you in bed. Ugh, your 20s, uncontrollable, stupid, senseless hormones.

“What are you waiting for? Come on, go get dressed, we have to leave,” he had told you, in the same friendly and vaguely mocking tone as always. 

“Oh. yes, thank you, I promise I will be quick.” You had stammered.

You got up, grabbed some random clothes from your suitcase, your beauty case and went to the bathroom to shower and change. He would be ready in 10 minutes at most so he would always let you go to the bathroom first, to give you time to do your makeup and fix your hair. Marcus knew that about you, too, and he was okay with that. 

You closed the door behind you, feeling the tears stinging your eyes. You had managed to hold them back until that moment, but in the shower, covered by his of the water, they had flowed copiously and salty down your cheeks. 

____________________________________________

2000

“Hey! How are you! My goodness, long time no see!” 

You had met him at the supermarket, as you were going around the shelves intent on shopping for your mother. 

You were back at your parents' house for Thanksgiving with your husband, John. 

The last person you thought you would see was him. 

“Marcus!” you had squeaked.

“I am fine! How are you? And Danielle?” 

Your mother had taken it upon herself to inform you that he had also married, had no children, and had become a detective. 

“Danielle is just fine, she is right there down the aisle picking potatoes according to my mother's exact instructions,” he had rolled his eyes, chuckling.

Damn, you had thought, he's breathtakingly handsome. 

You hoped that in all the years you had lost touch with each other he would have lost at least some of his hair like his father, but apparently he had not inherited that gene. His hair was thick and healthy as usual, he wore a gray T-shirt under a black leather jacket and a pair of dark blue jeans. You hated the way he could put on two random things and look so damn perfect while you felt like you had spent your whole life in front of your closet wondering what to wear. And even more you hated his smile, so friendly and sweet, that it hadn't changed at all. 

He seemed genuinely glad to see you. 

You had lost touch with each other after graduation, despite the advent of cell phones, computers, and email. Your friendship had survived handwritten letters, postcards, prepaid phone cards but still crumbled eventually. You were on the opposite coast, intent on your master's degree, dreaming of becoming a writer; he was hooked on a career in law enforcement. 

The letters had become fewer and fewer, as had the phone calls, and eventually what was there had simply slipped away as the months passed, the commitments increased, and each of you tried to become the adult you had dreamed of being.

You had thought it was much better this way, you had stifled your feelings for him for another four years before accepting that nothing would ever happen. You had dated other guys in the meantime, but Marcus had always remained in your mind as the perfect guy you could never have. It was only when you had met John that you had allowed yourself to think that maybe it could work with someone who was not your old friend. He was understanding, sweet, supportive, present and caring with you. John was a really good guy and so you had finally decided to marry him. He had asked you one spring day at the Public Garden, while you were eating a lobster sandwich under a tree in front of the pond, watching the swans. Your offices were close by, so you tried to spend your lunch break together as often as you could. You had gotten a job at the Boston Globe, were in charge of the wedding column, and wrote romance novels in your spare time, sending manuscripts left and right in the hope that some editor would notice them. John was a stockbroker, pragmatic, punctual and very thorough in his work as much as he was sweet and attentive with you. 

“How about we get married?” he simply had said to you, with his mouth full. You had laughed, thought he was joking, until you noticed his serious and hopeful look and exclaimed “oh my God, yes!” throwing your sandwich in the air and wrapping your arms around his neck. That was all you wished for. You had moved in together in a beautiful house downtown, not very big but lovely, you had fallen in love with it as soon as you saw it. It was bright and warm, the right place to start your life with John.

You had, of course, sent an invitation to Marcus as well, but he had declined, saying he was very busy with work. You had kind of tied it on your finger and so you had decided that he might as well get out of your life after all. Times change, people change, all I can do is move on and try to forget how I feel about him by devoting myself to my relationship with John, you thought.

Now that you had him in front of you again though, he looked the same as he always did, only grown. And your heart had skipped a beat the instant you recognized his voice greeting you.

“How long do you plan to stay?” you had asked out of pure courtesy. 

“About a week, we were able to take a few days to relax a bit. We're always working like crazy, you know, we both needed to get away for a while. How about you?” 

“Yes, us too, by the way if you remember Sunday is my father's birthday and my mother really wanted us to be there.” 

“I guess. By the way, I'm sorry. My mother told me when we arrived.” 

Your father had been ill for several months and unfortunately there was little left to do at that point. He was slowly fading away and it would probably be the last Thanksgiving you would spend together.

“I thank you. Oh here's John. John this is Marcus, an old friend of mine. Marcus, this is John, my husband.”

“Nice to meet you, Marcus,” John had said, shaking his hand. 

“Honey, I'm done, shall we go?” had chirped Danielle's voice as she approached you. 

“Yes love, but first let me introduce you to an old friend of mine and her husband” Marcus had told her softly. 

“Oh it's you! Marcus has told me several times about you! It's nice to finally meet you in person.”

Danielle was beautiful, dark hair, blue eyes and delicate features, a little nose that looked as if it had been drawn by an artist, full lips, high cheekbones and a well-proportioned chin. Her voice was melodious and sweet and she looked at you with an excited and surprised expression, " He didn't tell me you were so pretty!" 

“Oh, thank you, you are too,” you had said, slightly embarrassed by such kindness. At that point John had held you proudly, as if you were his greatest prize. His arm had wrapped around your waist, and his eyes looked at you lovingly "didn't she? I'm lucky that she married me." 

Danielle had laughed graciously and shook his hand introducing herself, while you and Marcus looked at each other almost studying each other, as if you were both trying to figure out how happy you actually were in your marriages.

That habit of worrying about each other had not gone away; after all, you had been close friends for quite a few years, and your friendship had faded not because of a quarrel, but because of distance and becoming busy adults. And because you had to get over the crush you had on him, of course, but you had never told him that. 

“Well, we have to go now, anyway come and see us if you can. My mother would love to see you again,” Marcus had said before offering to push the cart full of food that his wife had left beside you and start toward the checkouts. 

“We'll try, thank you,” you had nodded. You definitely should have helped your mother, tried to soothe her at least a little from the strain of caring for your father 24/7; you didn't know how much more time would be left for other things. 

You had watched them walk off together from behind, down the canned food aisle where you had retrieved the ready-made cranberry sauce you would never have time to prepare. 

They were a good-looking couple, really, attractive, well-dressed, Danielle looking impeccable in a pair of jeans that bandaged her while highlighting her curves, a red blouse that matched her complexion, and a pair of vertiginous heels on which you didn't even know how to walk. She seemed to do it without any problem. 

“We should go too, honey” John's voice had brought you back down to earth. 

_________________________________________

Once home John had announced to your mother that you had met your old friend at the supermarket, and of course she was thrilled, “Oh, he's such a nice guy, I saw him and his wife the other day walking downtown, they are such a nice couple, aren't they?” 

John had agreed, taking a beer from the fridge “really” 

“Well, like you, of course” your mother had added, looking at you softly. 

And it was true, you were fine with John, he was a good person, a hard worker, he treated you like a princess. What more could you want? 

Yet since you had seen him again, Marcus's face had made room in your mind. The intrigued way he had looked at you, as if trying to understand everything that had happened to you in the years you had not been in touch, the way his arms were reaching out to embrace you when John had arrived, a barely imperceptible movement that only you had noticed because you knew him better than the palm of your hand, the dimple that had popped up on his cheek as he smiled at you, the usual one you had grown to love so much.

You had pinched the bridge of your nose as you tried to drive it from your mind “Are you okay love?” had asked John immediately. 

“Yes, I just have a little headache, I'll get something later,” you had lied, hurrying to put away the rest of the groceries. 

What annoyed you the most was that it seemed like not a single day had passed since you were in your twenties and you had woken up hugging him in the bed of that dingy motel. It was absurd. You had worked so hard to move on and now it felt like you were back where you started. 

You couldn't let that happen, you wouldn't let your marriage be disrupted by a casual 10-minute meeting with him. 

You would not have gone to his house, no matter how much you would have liked to see his mother who had always been so kind to you. 

You had other things to think about anyway; your father was stuck in a hospital bed that you had managed to get him to be more comfortable. He had been put in the guest room on the ground floor, next to the bathroom, he couldn't do the stairs, and it was also easier for your mother to accompany him. The strong and generous man he had been was wearing out before your eyes, and it was a terribly painful image. You knew he had little time left, and you didn't want to waste it chasing the ghosts of the past when you had a husband who was helping you and hugging you every night trying to lessen your pain. 

Your Thanksgiving dinner had been unique to say the least, each of you shuttling from the dining room to your father's to spend some time with him, making sure he had everything he needed, helping him eat and drink. You had marveled at how gentle and patient John was with your dad, the big man you had married, one with two shoulders like a football player, feeding your father fruit jelly almost more gracefully than you. 

You knew how fond he was of your dad, they had hit it off right away, but you didn't know how much he was willing to sacrifice for him. You were moved.

___________________________________________

Your father was gone four days later. You and John were supposed to leave for Boston the next morning instead you had to call in to work, cancel your flight, call your trusty neighbor Marge to ask her to look at your house, pick up your mail, and water your plants. 

You were crushed and at the same time overwhelmed with bureaucracy so you couldn't stop. You had forgotten to eat breakfast that morning, got dressed in a hurry to go to the funeral home to deliver the suit with which you had decided to bury your father, then went to do some paperwork with the insurance company and finally to the church to arrange with the pastor the time of the service and the proceedings. When you left the church you felt an emptiness in your stomach, your head was spinning, you had eaten barely a sandwich in the last two days. 

You knew you were about to collapse, saw a café across the street from the church, and went inside to get a croissant and cappuccino to go. 

When you came out you found yourself in front of Danielle. She was so sorry, of course your mother had informed Marcus's mother and they would be attending the funeral. Danielle hugged you as if you were her sister, telling you that she understood you because she too had lost her father a few years earlier and even though you didn't know each other well you could have called her if you needed anything. 

You had thanked her and headed for the car, locked yourself in and took a couple of minutes to chug your croissant and drink your cappuccino. At least partially regenerated from the late breakfast you had headed back home, where John and your mother were waiting for you.

In the car you had been thinking about how kind Danielle had been and how lucky Marcus was to be with her.

The next day you had put on a sober black suit that you used for the office and probably wouldn't be able to wear again after that day, put on just enough makeup, helped John put on his tie, and headed for church with him and your mom. 

All three of you were exhausted, grieving, trying to hold the pieces together as best you could with each other's help but your dad's absence was hard to bear. You wished you could have woken up and found it had been just a nightmare, you wished you could have hugged him and talked to him and he, as he had always done, would have found the words you needed most.

There was only one other person who could soothe your worries in the same way your dad could, and that person was Marcus. 

John had been able to be there for you anyway, with actions more than words, taking tasks to take away from you, relieving you of burdens you could not carry alone, and for that you were infinitely grateful. He was a good husband. 

After the service, under his arm, you left the church behind your mother. You had lost count of the number of people who had come to hug you, faces you had never seen, work colleagues of your father's whom you had never met, old childhood friends, the church was full of people who had come to remember him fondly. This pleased you, but it was strange to you at the same time. You wished you had some time to yourself, alone, to try to catch your breath and rationalize at least some of what had happened, that blender of emotions that had shaken and sucked you in. 

You had made your way to the cemetery, walking along the path that led to the family grave where your grandparents were buried you had felt like you were in a muffled bubble where everything moved in slow motion, barely sensing John's presence beside you. 

When you had arrived, you had looked up for only a moment and before you had seen Marcus's. You had not noticed his presence in the church, busy as you were with hugging and greeting, you had seen only his mother but he had remained in the background, respecting your grief. Just as you wished others had done. There was nothing more to be said, he always knew what you needed, no matter how many years had passed, he could still read you like an open book just like when at 18 he had realized that your highest aspiration was to become a writer without even the need to make it explicit in words. 

His eyes were swollen and reddened; it was obvious that he was moved. Beside him was Danielle with a pair of dark glasses covering her face, clutching his arm elegantly and dignifiedly. 

You had smiled weakly at him, thanking him with your eyes, and he had smiled back, looking at you with the sweetest, sorriest eyes I had seen that day. 

___________________________________________

You had stayed behind to watch the final burial operations, while John had driven your mother back to the car, who had burst into convulsive tears, crushed by the realization that she had lost forever the man she had loved most in the world. 

You had felt a hand barely graze your shoulder, you had turned around and saw Marcus standing there on the grass “hey” As soon as you had seen him the impulse to hug him had come to you spontaneously, he had welcomed you into his arms, stroking your head, wrapping you against his chest, trying to comfort you. 

Being close to him still felt like home, his warmth immediately made you feel calmer, less alone, and not that John couldn't do that but with Marcus it was different. He had always been different in a way that was impossible to explain but that you felt hammering hard in your heart.

“Thank you,” you had whispered, with the tears you had finally allowed yourself to shed wetting your cheeks and his shirt. 

“Don't mention it,” he had whispered, continuing to hold you close. 

You had lingered a little longer in his embrace before pulling away and asking where Danielle was. 

"She went home with my mom. I stayed in case you needed anything.” 

“It's okay, thank you, there was no need,” you stammered lyingly. Yes you needed him, now more than ever, and he knew it well. 

“Your mother and John?” 

“Aunt Maggie drove them home, they left my mom's car with me.”

“Do you want me to drive?” she had asked and all you could do was nod ”please. But then how are you going to get back?” 

“I'll call Danielle, don't worry” he had encircled your waist with an arm as he walked you to the car. He had opened the door and helped you get in, even buckled your seat belt no matter how hard you had tried to insist you could do it yourself. 

Marcus did not spare himself when it came to caring for others. 

He had climbed up on the driver's side and in a rush had hugged you back, there, inside the car, whispering, “You don't know how sorry I am, baby. Your father was a great man.” 

You had looked at him gratefully, amid tears that had begun to flow profusely again "thank you" 

He had kissed you, right after that. And the instant his lips had rested on yours, you had felt that you could not help yourself no matter how hard you had tried to bury your feelings all those years. There was something inexplicable that united you, a way of understanding each other that needed no words, as if you were made to recognize each other, to see inside each other's souls. You had read in his eyes that day in the supermarket how much he had missed you, and he had read the same in yours, and just before that you had felt the same need to have him near, in spite of John, Danielle, and anything else that told you it was wrong. Deep inside you had always known it was right, you had felt it from the moment you first met him. You had been crowing for years about people talking about soul mates, meetings of destiny, and things like that. But now you knew you had felt it. His soft lips on yours were like honey to your soul, you wished you could sink into that feeling, drown in that sea and never rise again.

You couldn't leave John though. Not after you had built a life together in Boston, not after he had supported and cared for you all those days. Not after all he had done for you. 

As much as it hurt to do so, you pulled away from his lips. “I’ve always thought about you, all these years,” he said. “I’m sorry, you know, I didn’t realize it before, that maybe we could be something more. I never told you, but I remembered that kiss we shared when we were 18 very well.” Marcus was a torrent of words and was saying everything you’d always wanted to hear. “And I remember the night in that motel, too, how you held me in your sleep. I…” You knew he was about to say something like “I love you” “I’ve always loved you,” and so you cut him off. “Marcus.” He paused, his mouth half open as he looked at you in shock. “It’s too late. We can’t. Maybe there was a chance a few years ago, but now? We’re both married, we have responsibilities, we have to be realistic. It’s not fair to Danielle and John. And I have a job and a life in Boston, I can’t just leave everything all of a sudden.”

“But I…” and you knew he was about to say those words again. “Please don’t say that. Don’t make this any harder than it already is.”

Marcus had fallen silent, looking down at his hands draped over his lap, and then said sadly, “I understand.”

You had just lost your father and now you were losing him too. It wasn’t fair, but it was the only thing to do. “Take me home, please.” He would have started the car without saying anything, driving to your house without looking at you again, perhaps afraid that he wouldn’t be able to let you go if he ever laid eyes on you again. 

You got out of the car just saying thank you, without hugging him because you knew it would have hurt even more.

____________________________________

2008

When John had told you that you should move to Washington DC, you had not taken it well. You did not want to leave Boston, the bright home where you had begun to build your new life, that city that had welcomed you. Starting all over again somewhere else, in a city you had never been to, seemed too much. 

In the end, however, you had accepted it; leaving John seemed even worse. And he had continued to be a good husband, so you saw no reason to part with him.

After all, he had received a good promotion, he had rented a house where you had found a familiar light again, it had big windows, high ceilings, big rooms. John made good money and had tried to accommodate you in everything. 

He had made it worth it all the way.

You had been struggling a bit to fit into the editorial staff of the new newspaper you had found work for. You were aiming for the Washington Post, but they had totally bounced you, which had been no small disappointment to digest. 

However, after all, your life had regained some meaning. 

It was now six months since you had moved, you hadn't heard from Marcus in eight years. And this time it was not because of distance, but because it had really hurt you to find out that he felt something too but it never seemed to be the right time for you. It would have been in 1993 perhaps, if you had had courage, if you had taken the risk of exploring your feelings together. He hadn't had the guts to tell you anything, you were too afraid, and when you had found common ground it had immediately collapsed. 

John had noticed that something was wrong, even he knew you well enough to know that it pained you not to hear from your friend again, and at times he had even urged you to call him. You had told him that he had said something unpleasant about Danielle while you were in the car and you had felt sorry for her, from there you had started to argue. It was a really boorish excuse and you were pretty sure John hadn't bought it but had played it off for the sake of quiet life. 

“Can you stop by the bank to deposit this check this morning?” he had told you that morning before leaving the house. You were sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and enjoying your day off. 

“Sure,” you had answered him, ”I'll go there before I go to the laundry to pick up my dress for tonight.” 

“Mmm the burgundy dress with that dizzying neckline?” he had told you as he leaned over to give you a kiss 

“Just that one” you had smiled as you returned the kiss and caressed his cheek ”you like it huh?”

“I'm looking forward to tonight” he had chuckled before leaving the house with his briefcase ”I'll be home at 7 o'clock okay?”

“Perfect, I'll be ready” you had thrown him a kiss and then curled up in your chair, finishing your coffee and admiring the view of the waking city outside. 

It was your anniversary, and he was going to take you to dinner at a French restaurant you had heard about in enthusiastic tones from your discerning colleague who was a food and wine critic. 

You had dressed quietly, gone out to do your chores, had a manicure appointment, then gone to pick up your dress at the dry cleaners and finally to the bank. 

As soon as you had left the bank you had bumped into a guy. 

You had looked up and been stunned. 

Marcus.

How was that possible? 

“Oh shit,” he had exclaimed.

His hair was slightly longer, he had grown a mustache and a beard but it was him, there was no doubt about it, you would have recognized him in a thousand. 

"What are you doing here?" you had asked him, widening your eyes, without a hello or how are you or anything else, you were too shocked. 

He was the last person you expected to see on your anniversary. 

Marcus had brushed his hand behind his neck, the gesture he always made when he was embarrassed “I got a big promotion” in a tone as if to apologize for existing in the same state as you, in the same city as you, for coexisting in the same environment as you.

“Whatever...I have to go, anyway, have a nice life,” you had tried to say quickly, to disengage yourself from that surreal situation. 

You had already turned your back on him when you heard him say “no wait...please...would you like to have a cup of coffee?”

You had turned silently to look at him. He couldn't have been serious. Yet he was.

And looking into those big brown pleading eyes, for some reason you had not been able to say no.

“All right,” you had replied with a shrug, ”I'll give you half an hour, then I'll have to go home.”

You went to sit in a café around the corner and ordered a cappuccino.

"So how are you?" you asked absentmindedly. 

“Danielle and I broke up last spring.” 

“Oh. I'm sorry.” It was like a blade through the chest to hear his voice again, to hear him say that he was single again and that his marriage was over. Somehow it made you feel guilty even though after eight years it was unlikely that the main reason for their breakup was you. 

“Yeah...she wanted children and for a while we tried but...” 

“Marcus please, I don't care, it's your business because it's over,” you cut off. 

You didn't have to get involved again. When you had thought back to your father's death and how he had confessed right afterwards you had been angry with him. Why had he done it at that time when you were so particularly vulnerable? It wasn't fair. 

"Sorry I-" he had babbled.  

“Never mind, never mind,” you had interrupted him again with a hand gesture. “Look, let's talk straight once and for all” you didn't know where all that aggression was coming from but it was growing inside you inexorably, like an infection ”why the hell are we here?” 

He had lowered his gaze to his cappuccino, then brought it back to you and stared at you in a way that made you feel naked and helpless. He still had an effect on you, and it pissed you off. “I miss you,” he had admitted under his breath, ”I miss talking to you and I miss having you around. I miss everything about you. When I saw you I couldn't believe it. But I know I can't let you leave without clearing things up.” 

“There's nothing left to clear up. It's over Marcus, can't you see that? There was never a right time for us.” 

“That's not true, I-” 

“Stop it! Look, I'm trying to live my life, you do it too,” you had screeched

“But-” 

“No 'buts'... Marcus, I'm tired. I'm tired of this running into each other and don't tell me it's fate because it's just pure randomness. John was transferred for work, now we live here, end of story. I'm still with him, okay? And I'm happy, so please leave me alone.” 

You could see his clenched fist on the coffee table, his eyes glazed with tears, his Adam's apple jumping as you mentioned John. He looked devastated. It was no longer your business anyway, so you had gotten up and made to leave, leaving a bill on the coffee table. “Don't look for me anymore.” 

Marcus had jumped up, his chair had fallen back crashing onto the pavement, and he didn't even seem to notice as he tried to stop you.

“Please” he had grabbed you by the sleeve of his jacket ”please.” 

You had turned back to him and looking into his eyes you had seen the little boy who asked you if he would ever be famous, the one who helped you with your homework, the 20-year-old who had involved you in the craziest vacation of your life, and then the adult who had broken your heart. 

“No.” you had whispered, ”no fucking way.” 

Marcus' face was a grimace of pain, as if in physical pain from your rejection, his shoulders hunched and his hand not letting go of you. He was pathetic and sweet at the same time.

His eyes were fixed in yours as he told you loud and clear, “I love you.”

I love you. 

You had longed to hear it come from his lips for so long that now it was like a lash that burned against your skin. You had stopped feeling like you were glued to the sidewalk, unable to take a step forward “What the hell! Did you have to tell me that? Was it necessary after I told you that I am still with my husband? Fuck, your timing is the worst thing ever. Do you know what day it is today? My wedding anniversary.” you had thrown up words at him angrily, feeling a knot in your stomach that nauseated you. 

“I don't want anything from you,” he had replied, his voice trembling, ”I just wanted you to know.”

“And now that I know according to you what have we solved? What have we gained? I'll tell you, absolutely nothing Marcus.” 

You had turned around and left, yelling at him, “I'll tell you again, don't ever look for me.” 

You had come home and taken a long hot bath, cried your last tears for him, and then decided it was John you had to think about, your special day. Marcus wasn't going to ruin it for you. You had prepared yourself carefully, put on the dress he liked so much, your favorite perfume, and waited for John. When he had come home you had driven out to a restaurant, had had a delicious dinner, sex as soon as you got home, and fallen asleep in his arms feeling that it was right. 

___________________________________

2010

“Love don't wait up for me, I'll be back late. I am so sorry, I love you.” 

It was already the fourth time in a week that he sent you such a message, by now John spent more time in the office than anywhere else. He had been given another promotion and was now mainly in charge of foreign exchanges, so he went to the office at impossible hours, came back later and later, and you barely saw him in the morning getting out of bed to jump in the shower. You hadn't had sex for at least a month, in those days you had talked more often with the mailman than with your husband.

Finally a publishing house had noticed you and they had published your book, you had gotten a chance to continue working for the newspaper by writing your articles from home so you could work on your second novel. 

You had huffed, looking at the screen, by now you were going to your friends' dinners alone, in those two years you had bonded with some couples in your neighborhood, and with a colleague from the newspaper and her husband. Every time you had been invited in the last three months John had declined, saying he had to work. 

You were beginning to feel really alone in your marriage, but you knew you had to try something. You still cared about John; you didn't want everything you had built together to be ruined. Sure, since he was earning more money he was showering you with unexpected and expensive gifts that certainly didn't make up for his absence, though. You had never been a materialistic person, no matter how beautiful the diamond bracelets and pearl necklaces and expensive shoes were, you missed falling asleep cuddled with your husband, feeling his caresses, having breakfast with him in the morning, spending a weekend together on the couch watching TV cuddling, simply spending time with him. For the past few weeks you had failed to write a word, you had hastily completed articles for the newspaper just to meet deadlines but your novel had stalled. You were busy cleaning to take your mind off things, you had joined the gym to force yourself to leave the house but then you would go back and find yourself spending entire evenings lounging around, not knowing what else to do. 

You had decided that night that you had to take matters into your own hands, put on a pretty dress, fixed your hair and make-up thoroughly, and then went out with the intention of surprising him. You were going to bring him his favorite dishes from your favorite Chinese restaurant to the office. 

When you had arrived at his workplace, you had looked up from the car window and seen the light on in his office. 

You had come down loaded with Chinese noodles and dumplings, and as you walked toward the entrance you had noticed his car parked not far away. 

You had taken the elevator with your heart in your throat, looking forward to seeing his happy face as he enjoyed a hot meal. The elevator had opened on the floor and you had started down the hallway leading to his office. There was no one there, everything was quiet and still, but the closer you got to his office the more you heard strange noises. Bellowing, hushed voices. 

The door was pulled over, you had pushed it slightly, and the scene that unfolded before your eyes was unsettling. 

Veronica, a married colleague of him whom you had met at the firm's Christmas party a few months earlier, was bent over John's desk, her skirt up, her panties down, her long legs covered by black hold-ups, her stilettos sinking into the Persian carpet under John's desk. And your husband holding her hips and sinking into her from behind. 

His shirt was hanging off his shoulders, his hair was disheveled, his neck tense and sweaty, as he stood there with his cool wool pants down, fucking his colleague. 

He grunted some words that you had never heard him say when you were having sex “Yeah, bitch, you like that huh? You like getting pounded by my cock huh? You're such a dirty slut, do you feel how wet you are for me?" 

You couldn't believe your eyes. Your sweet husband, the one who had stood by you so devotedly…where had that man gone? 

You dropped the bag with the Chinese dinner on the floor, the boxes had opened, and the noodles had spread all over the hardwood floor. “What the fuck?!”

John had turned around shocked, still with his cock inside his coworker “Oh shit. No, wait, honey I-” he had stepped out of her and tried to pull up his pants awkwardly ”please-fuck-I can explain.” 

“There's nothing to explain, you piece of shit!” you had yelled at him as he approached trying to stammer out some stupid excuse and had slapped him open-handed across the face as soon as he got in front of you ‘don't bother coming home’ you had added contemptuously.

“But love I-” he had pranced rubbing his cheek ”please-” 

“NO!” You had yelled “No, I don't want to hear your bullshit excuses, I don't want anything more to do with you, you disgust me!”

Veronica was standing in the corner buttoning her blouse and pulling down her skirt without meeting your gaze, her face hot and guilty.

Everything that you had sacrificed for that relationship, how you had followed him and reinvented your life for him, adapting to his needs, trying to build a happy nest for the two of you in Washington, all had been swept away. He had stomped on your marriage, your trust, your heart. 

You had driven home crying, risking missing a red light, had nailed down at the last moment with your heart bouncing inside your chest like a jackhammer. You had walked into the house throwing your purse and coat on the floor, throwing your shoes in the middle of the hallway and throwing yourself on the bed, hiding your face in the pillow with your head bursting, a sense of helplessness and defeat enveloping your temples, your chest, your stomach. 

It was over.

John had never come home, you had learned through his lawyer that he had rented an apartment near his office, and a week later he sent three big guys from a moving company to pick up his things.

You couldn't stay in that house anymore. Everything reminded you of him, the lies he had been telling you for months and what was even worse, all the happy moments you had lived in there in spite of yourself. 

You were dragging yourself from room to room without strength, you hadn't written anything anymore, you had told the editor of the newspaper that you were sick to have an excuse to delay the deadlines for your articles. 

You were tired, you were angry, you lacked the will to do anything, after three days without seeing you leave the house your friend Denise, who lived across the street had called you alarmed to see if you were all right, and hearing your dejected, fading voice had decided to use the keys you had given her in case of an emergency to come and check on you in person. 

You had not been able to lie to her; you had burst into tears and told her everything as soon as she asked you where John was. 

From that day she had been by every day bringing you dinner, making sure you ate, forcing you to shower, tidying up. You didn't know what you had done to deserve Denise in your life but you were incredibly grateful that she was there. 

Gradually you had forced yourself to take charge of your life again, started going out again pushed by your friends and even moved house, encouraged by them. You couldn't turn over a new leaf without getting out of there. 

And you had especially realized that you could walk with your head held high; you were not the one who had to be ashamed. 

And looking back on it, you had really overcome a lot in the last few years. The loss of your father, Marcus, your husband. All the men who had meant something to you in your life. 

You could have been proud that you did your best to stay on your feet. 

________________________________________________________

2011 

It had been a year since you had discovered John screwing his colleague.

You had tried dating men, without success, but things were going very well professionally. You had finally managed to finish your second book, and the publisher had been extremely pleased, so much so that he had arranged a series of meetings for you at bookstores around the country.  You had just returned from Ohio when you got a call from your mother inviting you for Christmas.

You had no desire to return to Sacramento, but how could you say no to your mom? She was left alone and it had not been easy for her. Your aunt and uncle lived nearby and took care of her but she had said she missed you a lot.

And she was so proud of you, she had asked you for copies of your books to give to all her friends, she was your biggest fan. You were happy to see her and spend time with her. 

And so, there you were at the airport, with a big suitcase, ready to get on yet another plane and fly across the country. 

You had just gotten an upgrade to business class and were in the private lounge of the area airline ordering yourself a martini when you heard a familiar voice behind you calling your name. 

Marcus. Again. 

“I swear I'm not following you,” he had raised his hands in surrender. 

“I know. I haven't seen you in three years, and we live in the same town.”

You had smiled; it wasn't bad to see his face again after all. 

“Martini?” He had asked pointing to your glass 

“Yeah. Can you please make another one?” You had said turning toward the bartender. 

You had sat at a small table with your cocktails “Are you going to see your mother?”

You had nodded, “You too?” 

“Yes, my parents were very insistent. Where is John?” 

“I have no idea,” you had squeezed into your shoulders taking a sip of your martini. 

“Oh, did you break up? I'm sorry, he seemed like a good man,” he had said.

“Apparently he wasn't since he was cheating on me with one of his colleagues.” 

“You should have better judgment anyway, aren't you a detective?” you had asked, raising an eyebrow and looking at him wryly 

Marcus had burst out laughing, “You're right, I should.”

And he had told you about the time he had fallen in love with someone named Teresa, a colleague of his, and had been left like a poor idiot the previous year, without realizing that she was in love with someone else. 

“It wasn't your fault, you know,” you told him sweetly, ”I know how you get when you have a crush.” 

“How do I become?” he had asked you with a sigh.

And you had replied with a smirk “Well, if you must know...naive, head in the clouds, like you live in a world of unicorns and fairies” 

“Really? A ridiculous clown? Is that what I become?” he had chuckled and then turned serious again ”Not with you, I hope”

You had laughed, you could have laughed at that point. Or maybe it was just the martini clouding your mind. 

“Whatever,” you had rolled your eyes. 

“Well, I'm sorry,” he had muttered.

“It's okay” you had smiled ”Really.”

At that moment they had announced boarding for your flight, so you had hurried to the gate together. 

You were both in business, so eventually you had sat next to each other and continued chatting. 

And it was nice, really nice. You were both single, more aware, you had reached an age where you could be honest with yourselves and you could joke about your dramas. 

“So you had noticed that I had hugged you that night huh?” 

“Sure. You pounced on me in my sleep and woke me up. I didn't want to embarrass you so I played it cool” she had smiled ”I thought you were sleepwalking and dreaming of hugging Keanu Reeves or whatever.” 

You had burst out in the loudest laugh you had had in years and then covered your mouth embarrassed that you had disturbed the other passengers. Fortunately those in your vicinity all had headphones on and were watching a movie. 

“Oh, come on” you had tapped his shoulder and then taken by you don't know what courage-probably the second martini you were downing-you had said ”the only one I dreamed of hugging was you.” 

“I didn't realize this until later...Now is there anyone you would like to hug by any chance?” he had whispered in your ear.

“Actually...yes” 

And there, in that plane, you kissed. For the first time without hindrance, without remorse, without drama, without fear. “I love you” he had whispered on your lips, and you had responded, finally free to say it ”I love you too.”

“So we'll try this time?” he had caressed your cheek, sliding his hand down your neck. 

“Yes” You had said ”definitely yes.”

“Your mother will be delighted” he had smiled, kissing you again “it's going to be a great Christmas.”

“Well, Merry Christman then” you whispered as your mouth moved down his neck.

“Merry Christmas, baby”

[nknoxe-n]

☆★☆★→ Call Me Back? ←☆★☆★

Synopsis: Reo doesn't love you, and you don't love him, right? But you're both liars to each other and to yourselves

Tags: [angst] [pre established friendship][shitty ending its comfort I just suck at endings][not a nice ending but not a bad one in terms of angst][You both being in denail][unknown mutual pining][miscommunication]

w.c 4.7k

a/n: I think this is the longest fic I have written so far and surprisingly it's for Reo.. basically saying the rest of my account is Shidou and Rin. It is NOT proofread and I do hate it but who doesn't like two friends that can't tell they love each other and also if you see this and like my writing, I'm doing a match up event for 100 followers starting on the 26th :D

It had always been so easy to be around Reo. No matter how different your worlds seemed, no matter the distance that existed between his wealth and your modest upbringing, there was a connection that felt natural, effortless. The laughter came easily, whether you were sharing snacks on lazy afternoons or getting caught up in competitive gaming sessions where the stakes were nothing more than pride.

You didn’t care about the lavish gifts he’d sometimes try to give you, the ones that were meant to impress. Expensive perfumes, designer clothes—it all felt like an attempt to buy your affection. But you’d never wanted those things. They never impressed you the way he thought they might. You’d much rather have a poorly written note that made him smile, one that carried his personality, than something shiny with a high price tag.

When you thought about the moments that meant the most, it was always the simple ones. The evenings spent binging on snacks that could only be described as “junk” food, yet they were filled with laughter and inside jokes. The way he would tease you for your competitive streak, then turn around and beg you for a rematch when you beat him. Or how, when you lost, he’d give you that grin of triumph, but it never felt like he was rubbing it in. It was just… fun. Simple. Real.

There were nights when you both stayed up talking, no agenda, just sharing pieces of yourselves. You knew about his pressures, the expectations that came with being Mikage Reo—the heir to a powerful family—and he knew about your dreams of independence. You had your whole life planned out. The university you were determined to attend abroad, the job you’d pursue once you finished school, the career that would give you the freedom you craved. No amount of wealth or grandeur could sway you from your path.

Sometimes, Reo would try to convince you to let him help, but you always politely declined. You weren’t interested in shortcuts. The hard work and grit that would get you to where you wanted to be was far more appealing than any easy way out.

“What’s wrong with a little help?” he’d tease, flashing a mischievous grin your way.

You’d roll your eyes playfully. “Because I can do it on my own. I don’t need anyone else to build my future for me.”

He would just shake his head with a chuckle. “You’re stubborn, you know that?”

And that was the beauty of your friendship. It wasn’t about what you could offer each other in terms of money or status. It was about something deeper. The way he respected your independence, your drive. And how you never once asked for anything he could buy. You valued his company, his time, and the moments you spent together. You didn’t need anything else.

The bond between you two wasn’t built on pretense—it was built on shared understanding, laughter, and the kind of genuine moments people only experience when they’re not trying to impress anyone.

-

It was one of those nights when the air felt thicker than usual, the world outside humming quietly as you sat beside Reo on the balcony, the distant city lights twinkling like stars scattered on the earth. You were leaning against the rail, looking out over the view, and he was beside you, feet dangling off the edge of the low wall. For a moment, the silence between you both was comfortable, the kind that only happens when there’s no need for words. But there was an edge to it, something that had shifted recently—neither of you could place it, but it was there, hanging in the space between your breaths.

"How’s it been going?" you asked quietly, your voice gentle but carrying a weight of understanding.

Reo let out a slow sigh, running a hand through his hair. "The usual," he replied, but you could hear the tiredness in his voice, the subtle cracks that slipped through the mask he wore so well. "The pressure to be everything everyone expects me to be… it's exhausting. I can't even remember the last time I felt like I could just… relax. Be myself."

You didn��t answer right away. Instead, you simply turned to face him, your gaze soft as you caught the faintest trace of vulnerability in his eyes. Reo Mikage was never one to let anyone see him like this, to share these moments of uncertainty, but somehow, with you, he always felt a little lighter. Still, he kept his distance, pushing himself to be the heir, to fit into that mold. It was as if he’d built a wall around himself, and you were the only one who seemed to see the cracks in it.

"I know it’s hard," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "But you’re allowed to be more than just the heir. You’re allowed to be you, Reo."

There was a quiet pause as your words hung in the air, and then he turned toward you. His expression softened, his lips curling slightly into a small smile. "You always know what to say."

You shrugged, trying to play it off, but inside, your heart was beating a little faster. There was something in his gaze, something that made you feel like he wasn’t just listening to your words, but he was seeing you in a way that was different from before.

And maybe that was why, when his fingers brushed against yours as he reached for the can of soda between you, the touch lingered a second too long. You couldn’t even call it an accident—it wasn’t, not with the way he hesitated, his hand barely leaving yours before he withdrew. The brush of his skin against yours felt like a spark, a tiny flame that started to flicker in the depths of your chest. It wasn’t anything monumental, but it felt… different. You couldn’t help but glance at him, only to find his eyes already on you, the faintest trace of something unreadable in them.

You didn’t pull away, though. It would’ve been too awkward, and somehow, in that moment, it felt like the right thing to do. Neither of you acknowledged it aloud, and yet, both of you were acutely aware of it, even if you didn’t say anything.

The rest of the night was quiet. But there were subtle things that began to shift. When you joked around, he’d laugh a little longer than usual, his gaze holding yours a second too long. And when you’d talk about your future—your plans to go abroad, to build your own life—he listened with a sort of intensity, the kind of focus he usually reserved for the most important matters.

Over time, your friendship with Reo began to shift in ways neither of you quite understood. The moments that once felt light and carefree started to carry a new weight. The way his hand brushed against yours as you passed the snacks or how he always seemed to linger a little longer than necessary when handing you something—those small, subtle gestures that had once been innocent started to stir something deeper.

It wasn’t anything overt at first. Just moments that seemed to stretch a little too long, a little too quietly. You noticed how he would sit closer than before during game nights, his knee occasionally brushing yours, and how, when you laughed too hard, his gaze lingered just a little longer than usual, like he was trying to capture the moment in his mind.

There were times when he would glance at you with something unreadable in his eyes, his lips curving into that smile of his—half-amused, half-wistful—and you found yourself wondering if there was something more to it. But you brushed it off, convincing yourself that it was just the comfort of your long-standing friendship. You were close. Maybe too close. But friendship was all it would ever be.

The more time you spent together, the more you realized how easy it was to slip into moments of closeness that didn’t seem to make sense. He would look at you after a silly joke, his eyes lighting up with that spark that made you smile back without thinking. You’d find yourself stealing glances at him when he wasn’t looking, your heart skipping a beat when your hands brushed in passing.

One evening, while watching a movie, you felt him shift closer to you. At first, you assumed it was because you’d both gotten too comfortable, but when his shoulder lightly pressed against yours, you froze. He didn’t pull away. Instead, he stayed there, his arm brushing yours once more. The proximity felt different. It was a closeness that wasn’t just physical—it was emotional, too. You tried to play it off, shifting awkwardly and pretending not to notice the way your heart was racing in your chest.

But you could feel his warmth beside you, and something in the air between you both shifted. There was no overt confession, no grand gesture. But in that moment, you both seemed to exist in a space where words weren’t necessary. The silence was enough.

Reo, as always, was the first to speak. But this time, his voice was softer than usual, almost hesitant. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he said, his eyes still fixed on the screen, but his voice carrying an undertone of something more. Something that felt a little too intimate.

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you just leaned your head against his shoulder, feeling the steady rhythm of his breathing. You both had been through so much—him with his family, you with your plans for the future—and yet, this simple act of being together, of sharing this quiet space, felt like it was everything.

“Me neither,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, even to yourself.

And maybe that was the issue. Maybe you both knew, deep down, that this was something more than just friendship. But neither of you dared to speak it out loud. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

-

Reo was acting strange. Well, stranger than usual. You noticed it a few days ago, but it wasn’t until now that you started to realize something was different. He was still his playful, affectionate self, but there were subtle changes. He’d call you more frequently, texting to check in on your day, asking about the little things, the details that he never cared much about before. He started showing up at your place unannounced, offering to drive you to class, waiting outside after work to grab coffee—small gestures that, at first, seemed like his usual friendly acts.

At first, you thought you were just reading too much into things. After all, Reo had always been affectionate—playful, a little too clingy sometimes—but it was just who he was. You didn’t think anything of it. You didn’t want to.

One evening, you both sat at his place, watching some random movie that neither of you were paying attention to. Your legs were tangled together on the couch, your head resting against his shoulder. His fingers lightly brushed through your hair as he casually turned the volume up.

It was the closeness you were used to, nothing new. But the tension in the air was undeniable. His hand, which had casually landed on your knee, now lingered there. You shifted, and Reo adjusted so his leg brushed against yours. The small, gentle touches, the unspoken connection—it all felt so natural. So… familiar. Yet, in the back of your mind, a small voice kept reminding you that things had been different lately.

Reo cleared his throat. “Hey, you okay?” he asked, his voice unusually soft.

You turned to him, a little surprised by his tone. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired. You?”

He paused, his eyes flickering to yours before quickly looking away. “I’ve been thinking… about a lot of things.”

You raised an eyebrow but didn’t push him. “What kind of things?”

He hesitated, as if the words were caught somewhere between his chest and his mouth. Finally, he spoke, but it was quieter than usual, almost as if he was uncertain. “I don’t know. Just… about us. About how you always seem to know just what I need.”

You blinked, confusion flickering across your face. “Reo, we’ve been friends for so long. You know I’ve always got your back. You’re like family to me.”

Reo's expression faltered for just a moment. “Yeah, family. Right.” His voice trailed off as if he was trying to mask something deeper, something that wasn’t quite right. You didn’t catch it, though. To you, it was just another typical moment in your close friendship.

As the night went on, you both chatted and joked around, just like always. But your words stuck with him. Maybe it was his attempt at courting you—he wasn’t quite sure—but every time you responded with your usual platonic affection, it only reinforced his uncertainty. He didn’t know how to turn this friendship into something more, but he could feel that familiar warmth growing inside him every time you smiled at him. Every time you’d laugh, he felt that little spark. But when you called him “family,” it felt like a wall went up between you two.

The next day, you were hanging out at your favorite spot again, and Reo was acting more distant than usual. His phone buzzed, and he picked it up, reading something with a frown. He quickly stuffed it back in his pocket and shifted in his seat. You noticed, of course, but you didn’t mention it.

“What’s up?” you asked casually.

He glanced at you but then quickly looked away. “I’m fine. Just… thinking about a few things.”

“About what?”

Reo rubbed the back of his neck, looking more flustered than he usually did. “You know… maybe I’m just overthinking things. Forget it.”

It was as if a light bulb flickered above your head, and the pieces finally began to fall together. Reo was acting weird because he was interested in you. But the idea felt ridiculous, and it only made sense if you were misinterpreting his signals. You’d been friends for so long, and now suddenly, he was acting like he cared about you in a way that wasn’t just friendly. You shook your head, trying to push the thought away. No way.

You could feel the awkwardness stretching between you both now, as though there was some unspoken barrier that neither of you could cross. Reo’s attempts at deeper affection fell flat as you kept responding with the same ease, the same nonchalance. He was used to being loved and adored, used to being in control. But with you, it was different. It always had been.

That night, he finally said it—the thing that had been on the tip of his tongue all this time.

“I just… never mind.” His voice trailed off as he stood up, his frustration simmering. “Forget it, okay? I didn’t mean anything.” Only to immediately clam up, backtrack, regret.

You looked up at him, frowning. “What are you talking about, Reo?”

He didn’t respond at first. He just shook his head and muttered, “I’m sorry. I’m just… I don’t know anymore.”

The silence stretched between you, thick and uncomfortable, before he grabbed his jacket and walked out without another word.

Over the next few weeks, Reo threw himself into his work with Nagi, both of them pursuing their shared dream of becoming the best in soccer, and while it was mostly Reo's dream, it always has been, Nagi was his 'treasure' and key into the professional leagues. You noticed the subtle shift as he started spending more and more time with Nagi—long hours in practice, late-night strategy sessions. The calls and texts from Reo became less frequent, his absence more apparent. It left you with an uncomfortable emptiness you hadn’t expected.

At first, you were relieved. Maybe he’d gotten over whatever had been bothering him. But as the days wore on, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed. And you couldn’t help but wonder if it was your fault. Maybe you had pushed him away without realizing it. Maybe his feelings had been more than you had given him credit for.

You began to notice how much you missed him—the laughter, the ease, the way he could brighten any room just by being in it. You missed his presence, his warmth. And it started to sink in that you might have missed your chance to admit that, perhaps, you felt the same.

But now, he was slipping away, and you were left wondering if it was too late.

-

The game had ended, and Reo was still riding the high of his win as you stood at the edge of the field, waiting for him. You had come to watch, not because you had to, but because you wanted to. You had always supported him, even when his focus was more on the game than on anything else. He always seemed to forget to acknowledge you at times like this, but you didn’t mind. That was just how he was.

When the game ended, you waited for him near the stands, feeling the cool evening air wrap around you. Reo found you quickly, as he always did, a smile on his face as he jogged up to you. “Hey, you came,” he said, a glint of surprise in his eyes.

“Of course I did. How else would I know if you’re any good?” you teased, smiling back.

“Of course, you know I’m the best,” he said with his usual cocky grin, but there was something behind his eyes. Something softer.

The walk home was quiet, an almost uncomfortable silence hanging in the air between you both. You’d gotten so used to the easy banter, the casual conversations, and now there was this strange distance. It wasn’t that you were upset with him—not entirely—but something was missing, something that had been there before. You glanced at him, watching as he kept his gaze straight ahead, hands tucked into his pockets, his face slightly tense as if he was trying to keep something from spilling out.

You couldn’t ignore the feeling that had been nagging at you for the past few days—the weight of the silence.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. “Reo,” you began, your voice hesitant, but your heart felt like it was already halfway out of your chest. “I… I got accepted into the university I’ve been working for. The one abroad.”

His stride faltered for just a second. He stopped walking for a moment, turning to look at you, his expression unreadable. “You got in?” He asked, a mix of surprise and something else, but you couldn’t quite place it.

“Yeah,” you nodded, trying to keep the pride out of your voice. “It’s been the plan for a while now. I’m… going soon.” Your chest tightened, a mix of excitement and sadness flooding through you as the words left your mouth. It was everything you had dreamed of, but now it felt so heavy.

You looked over at Reo, and his smile was a little too tight, his eyes almost shadowed. He opened his mouth, but no words came out immediately. Instead, he turned his face away and began walking again, his steps slower now, as if weighed down by something.

“I’m… proud of you,” he said quietly, still not looking at you. “You deserve it.”

The silence between you deepened, suffocating almost, until Reo finally broke it again. “I’ve… I’ve been scouted,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “For a soccer program called Blue Lock. I’ll be leaving soon too.”

You froze in place, your breath catching in your throat. “Blue Lock?” you repeated, trying to make sense of his words you didn't know if that was good, but he always told you getting scouted by a big team or youth program was one big step towards his goal. “But… that’s huge, Reo. That’s amazing.” A part of you felt like your heart had just been ripped out, though you couldn’t understand why. Maybe it was the fact that you were both about to embark on separate paths—two dreams pulling you in opposite directions.

“I know…" he continued, his voice slightly strained. “I’ll be gone for a while. A long while. I don’t even know what’s going to happen after that. Things are just… changing, and…”

He trailed off, and for the first time in a while, you saw the cracks in his façade. It was the first time he didn’t seem sure of himself, didn’t have the answers.

Your stomach twisted painfully, and before you knew it, the words slipped out. “Reo, why didn’t you… why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

He flinched, his eyes softening for a split second, before he looked away again. “I didn’t want to… I didn’t want you to think I was just… going to leave. I didn’t want things to change, but they already are, right?” He stopped walking again, turning to face you, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re going, and I’m… leaving too.”

It was then that everything seemed to crash down on both of you at once. You stood there, facing each other, caught in a whirlwind of feelings that neither of you had fully processed until now. You had both been avoiding the reality of it, pretending that things would stay the same, even when they couldn’t.

The words started to tumble out of you, overlapping and colliding with his own. “Reo, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now, with everything changing—”

“I don’t want to lose you, okay?” Reo blurted out, his voice raw and desperate dominating yours. “I never wanted things to be like this. I—I don’t even know how to do this. I don’t know how to… let you go.”

Your heart stopped, and you stood there, frozen. His words echoed in your mind, but there was something more beneath it, something unspoken, hanging between you two like a fragile thread.

“I don’t want to lose you either, Reo,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. “But we can’t keep pretending like things won’t change. They already are. We already are.”

You could see the hurt in his eyes, and for a brief moment, you thought he might say something more, something that would bridge the gap between you two. But the moment passed, and instead, he just let out a shaky breath, rubbing his face with his hand.

“I guess we’ve both been holding on to the wrong things,” he muttered, a bitter edge creeping into his voice.

And that was it. No more words. No more attempts at fixing things. The space between you had become too vast for easy fixes, and neither of you knew how to close the distance anymore.

Reo let out a breath and looked down, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “I… I should go…. Call me later?”

You nodded, unable to find the words to stop him. The emptiness settled in quickly, and as Reo walked away, you felt something in your chest snap, even though you couldn’t quite say what it was.

It wasn’t just that he was leaving. It was that, for once, he was being honest with himself—about his feelings, about everything. But the timing, the way everything had come to light, made it too late.

-

The days after that evening with Reo felt like an endless stretch of time. You focused on your studies, your new life, and the overwhelming rush of excitement that came with your acceptance into the university abroad. It wasn’t easy, and it wasn’t perfect, but you were moving forward. Every day felt like a step toward independence, toward the life you had always planned, and you couldn’t afford to look back.

The first few days after your conversation with Reo were quiet. You couldn’t call him. You just couldn’t bring yourself to. Not when everything felt so raw, and not when his words, filled with uncertainty and bitterness, still echoed in your mind. You told yourself it wasn’t worth dwelling on. But still, it gnawed at you—why hadn’t he called? Why hadn’t he answered when you tried?

Eventually, the urge to reach out became too strong, and you grabbed your phone, fingers trembling as you dialed his number. The seconds stretched into minutes, but there was no answer.

You tried again. And again. Until the hours passed, your frustration growing with each failed attempt. Your chest tightened, and a bitter feeling pooled in your stomach. Was it something you said? Something you did? Had you been too abrupt when you told him about your future? Or maybe… maybe it was something else. His life was about to take a new direction too, wasn’t it?

You tried not to overthink it. You tried to tell yourself that it wasn’t your fault. That maybe, just maybe, Reo needed time to himself too. But even as you sat there, staring at the phone screen, the silence felt suffocating. Your mind spun in circles—why hadn’t he called back? You had been so close, you had been his constant, and now… now, he was gone. No word, no explanation. The uncertainty ate away at you.

And after that, you didn’t try again. Days turned into weeks, and then months. Your life was in full swing—uni life, dorm life, new friends, new experiences. It was all overwhelming and exhausting, but it was yours. And yet, every time you caught yourself thinking about Reo, you couldn’t remember why it had hurt so much back then. Maybe it had been the suddenness, the unfinished conversation, the realization that your paths were diverging.

But even as life carried on, you still found yourself replaying that moment—the last time you saw him. His words. The way he looked at you, like something had shifted, but neither of you had known how to face it.

That day, you were sitting on your dorm couch, textbook open in front of you, trying to study. You glanced up absentmindedly, the sound of the sports channel filling the background as white noise. It was just a game, something to pass the time while you tried to focus. But then the camera panned to the field.

Your heart skipped a beat.

There, on the screen, a match between the U-20 team and Blue Lock, the program he'd told you about, the feed was pre-recorded, this would have happened hours ago back in Japan but was only coming to you now. But there was no mistaking it. It was him. Your best friend.

You froze. Your heart thudded in your chest, the weight of emotions you had buried deep in your heart suddenly resurfacing, sharper than ever.

Without thinking, you grabbed your phone from the table beside you, fingers trembling as you flicked through your contacts. You stared at his name, sitting there on your screen, and the weight of the decision hit you harder than you expected.

You hadn’t called him in months. You hadn’t even thought about calling him after those first few failed attempts. But now, now you wanted to reach out.

You hesitated, then pressed the call button and let it ring.

Each second felt like an eternity. Your heartbeat matched the rhythm of the call, and just as you thought it would go to voicemail again, it clicked.

Reo’s voice, so familiar, so distant, crackled through the line. “Hello?”

What did you say now? 'Reo I love you and I know you haven't called me back since I left and we'd probably never see each other between my school life and your soccer career but I saw you on TV and almost balled my eyes out because I miss you so much? No.'

So you settled "Hey… It's me… You told me to call you back? But uh.. you never answered…" "...I miss you"

[azeterna]

24 favourites of 2024!

thanks for the tags, @savagemagician3 @gloomiegalaxie @skaterboisims @hymless and @blvckentropy!

i only started posting here in april, so i've dug out some screenshots i haven't posted before. some of them are cc previews. some of them are giant sharkies.

i had to crop some of them cause tumblr's cropping sucks, so everything after mid-april links to the original post too.

january

february

march

april 2

may 1 2

june 1 2

july 1 2

august 1 2

september 1 2

october 1 2

november 1 2

december 1 2

wow a lot has changed...

at the start of the year i just silently liked stuff while i made cc. i was always afraid to post my own original sims, and honestly i kinda still am. @gloomiegalaxie's femboy friday got me to finally start posting, and since then i've made so many friends here and i love you all so much MWAH 💜

since then i've started playing with occults, learnt how to render, and i actually put skin details on my sims now. i still don't know what my sims style is, besides vaguely alt.

i tag @sansabirdanne @plumbewb @salemssimblr @yin-shimo @alelelesimz and anyone else who want to do this!

[nguyenfinity]

Dear Producers,

Heartbeat! Revival: Honey-Dipped Summer Rain will start soon!

Crazy:B has lately been receiving higher-profile jobs, having developed a name for themselves. Their latest offer is the chance to be in a short movie, where Rinne is one of the main leads. However, Niki finds himself in a position he didn’t anticipate…

Stay tuned for further event announcements!

Featured Cards: ★5 [Cerulean Lovesick Heart] Niki Shiina

HI OKAY YEAH full disclaimer, this is not a real event!! Fun collab project between 2 insane creative minds haha sorry

Y’all are in for a ride okay have fun o7

Card template is from fourleafprince on twt!

[chocohedgie]

I remember reading a headcanon online that Pomni purrs and kneads like a cat when she's happy, so I was inspired to draw this 🤭

They’re both laying on grass btw

I think they deserve a little rest

[front-facing-pokemon]

sandaconda SNIFFFF

this is true

sorry about the radio silence apart from the queued posts for the past few days, folks. i'm gonna drop all these asks and then give you a bit of an explanation, as well as a possible read on the future of the blog, down at the bottom of this post, if you care to read it

everyone loves appletun..! i used one to beat the champion in my first ever run of swsh because i thought it was so cute. and grass/dragon is a fun typing..! just one more way to be 4x weak to ice my belovèd

i don't even remember what this is in reference to unfortunately. this is the way to get to the grass gym from motostoke, i think..! though you have to go through a route to get to the mines

y'know, i'm not sure! perhaps if i knew what it was based on, i could tell you better

let them have it :/ they deserve it

okay. hi. you've reached the bottom. i have a confession! i have not been able to update the queue in like. a week

my commitment to uploading every pokémon in natdex order already fell off a little bit when the galar pokédex was out of order compared to the national pokédex and i was choosing to include regional forms in "natdex order" by using their placement in regional dexes. now that i've reached all the regional evolutions in the natdex, i've found that my previous methods for getting models and getting them to work are not necessarily panning out. this is, of course, for one specific pokémon: galarian farfetch'd. i believe this applies to the rest of the galarian forms that i have yet to upload, as well, as i can't seem to find models (that i know how to work with) anywhere on the internet. if you want to see the most recent state i was able to get galarian farfetch'd into, then here:

it's fucked up. you may have noticed that i also didn't post galarian corsola before cursola. that's partially because i forgot it existed, and partially because i didn't have its model so i didn't know it existed because of that

i don't really know what to do here. i haven't queued up a single pokémon in about a week, and even then, the pokémon at the end of the queue you'll notice are getting progressively more and more fucked up textures-wise just because of how difficult they're getting when i can't find the proper models and i have to throw something toegether in like an hour. which! this blog never used to take me an hour! it used to be a few minutes out of my morning, at most. now mornings are taking me upwards of two hours just to get these motherfuckers working—and now i've reached a point where i can't get them working at all

from my perspective, i have two options, neither of which i want to do. option one is to just post the pokémon that i have and can get working, skipping ones that i don't have or can't get working. option two is to just go on indefinite hiatus until i can get a hold of the models and get them working. i like neither of these options!

i suppose there's a secret third option, which is that i start using in-game screenshots like i almost did for phantump that one time, but those aren't the easiest to procure when i can't perfectly manipulate the model and the camera to get the angles that have become the style of this blog

i don't want to quit when i'm this close to the end (and especially when there's so many of you waiting for your favorite pokémon), but taking two hours out of my morning to get one pokémon working is becoming a chore i relent doing, and i've become unable to do it at all now that i can't get the models to render correctly

i don't have a solution to put at the bottom of the post here! i don't have a way to say "so because of this, i'll now be doing blahblahblah" because i don't have a blahblahblah that i can do. i don't know what the best course of action is, because i have never really encountered this kind of problem on the blog before. the hiatus i took back in 2020 was for completely unrelated reasons, and like 99.9% of you weren't even here for that. and sure, only like 20 folks read these asks, let alone down this far into them, but for those of you that don't, you'll just be missing out and confused. for those of you that do, i thank you for sticking around this long. this is not goodbye, and i don't even want it to be a temporary goodbye—but it is me saying that there are 18 pokémon left in the queue and i don't know how to add any more

the best solution is probably just to post the pokémon that i can and hope the models i can't get aren't anyone's favorites. how do we all feel about that? i could always try in-game screenshots, but that'd be such a big change in styling and visuals that i dunno if i wanna go through with it. i'm at an impasse here, and i've been avoiding even talking about it because technically most of the followers of this blog couldn't care less if there was a real individual behind it—they're just here for the silly pokémon images. but, y'know, hi! here i am, i'm a real individual running this blog, and it's not that easy anymore!

[omegapheromone]

Hiya, I've been on a lengthy hiatus from online misce spaces for various reasons, but I'm preparing to get a bit more active again finally! Sorry to everyone who sent asks either before or during this time, I know I've been away for AGES so I don't know if I'll answer every single one right away.

That being said, how has everyone been? What's new? Are people still having random drama over nothing? Have the misce spaces and omegaverse fiction/author spaces separated further again? What's the hot topic to talk about currently /hj

No but I do want to know. How has everyone been? I won't tag any specific people since it's been a long time since I've interacted with anyone, but please don't hesitate to respond to this post, send asks, dms, whatever- I'm glad to be back and feeling more stable again ^^

[mooremars]

Camelot 2023 Act 1 ramblings about the music and book and also the visuals again because turns out 3,000 words wasn't enough.

I cannot possibly recommend anyone actually read this because it is so absurdly, comically long but I needed to get some feelings out. Also it's in two parts because apparently Tumblr has a maximum character count and I hit it.

Overture

• Firstly, female conductor, we love to see it

• I love overtures and entr'actes and this show's is so good

• Shoutout to the orchestra

• I have never experienced a bad Broadway orchestra but still doesn't mean they do not deserve serious praise

• Does just the instrumental of Camelot make me very emotional and think about fundamental human goodness?

• Yes, this show did its job

• The end of the If Ever I Should Leave You part is just permanantly in my brain as the part during bows where they point to the orchestra

• Whatever the music that plays as everyone starts walking onstage is epic

• The vibe is set and I'm ready

Act 1 Scene 1: A hilltop near the castle at Camelot

• I've said it once and I'll say it one thousand times, I am obsessed with the way they've used the space in this show

• I love that they can walk up the back of the stage, I love that they have the stairs in front, I love that they've got so many exit and entrance points

• Sorry to the actors who probably had to do a lot of running around but it was fun for me

• As much as I like spectacle, I don't inherently prefer it over this kind of more minimalist thing

• But I do feel like they did a good job at conveying scale and drama even though the set is extremely minimal

• "I have the exact same amount of information that you do" just immediately starts the show off on the right foot

• This is a new take and I was here for it instantly

• And such a funny way to deliver a ton of exposition, this will be the first of what will become the prevailing theme of my rambling which is I adore Sorkin's writing beyond measure

• Merlyn's delivery drenched in sarcasm for every line is perfect and we clearly see where Arthur gets it from

• Specifically "do you know what calamity means?"

• But also "things in England are changing too fast"/"words that have never before been spoken"

• Establishing Sagramore in a funny way that becomes so serious by the end

• We jump right into the Sorkin dialouge rhythm and it feels so right

• There's the perfect amount of everyone overlapping each other and finishing the other characters' thoughts

• And also the jaunty music when most of the guards leave, like I don't exactly know why it sounds like that since it doesn't fit but I love it anyway

• I know it's part of at least the movie's score but like to me it's still strange, I've been calling it clown music in my head

• The difficulty finding the king exchange and also the pheasant hunting exchange are so funny and set the tone so well

• Can you see I'm attempting not the write out every line of dialouge?

• But also I love that we get this little build to Arthur to wonder what the hell is going on with this guy

• Because if you're me, you've come into this show with basically the association with JFK and that's it

• So I had no clue and was curious

• The knights have like mostly terrible points but Sagrimore's delivery of "snear all you like but five minutes ago we were at war with that girl's county and tomorrow I'll be swearing an oath to protect her with my life"

• He's not wrong

• The knights are so good, the actors are perfect

• Every bit of casting is inspired and those three are no exception

• "Arthur get the hell out of the tree"

• Again with no context, the tree really got me

• "Hiding, I'm obviously hiding" - I am instantly in, the delivery on this line is so funny

• Okay fine I was in from the way he said hello, also a hilarious delivery

• My roommate brought up immediately how effective it is not to have him do a British accent and how it again just makes Arthur relatable - genius

• Whatever voice he's doing is a perfect choice

• Also young Arthur is so much the right choice it's staggering to me that they ever did it any other way

• They thread the needle so perfectly of Arthur being young but not in a way where he's like an incompetent child

• Which I feel like is actually how some of the other versions with older actors still managed to come off

• But this Arthur is just young and trying

• "My mouth disconnects from my brain"/"I've witnessed that"

• As like a character note, I love that exchange but I also was worried this was gonna be what it usually is, which is a male character who cannot treat a woman like a human person

• But no, Arthur has absolutely no problem with that, his mouth only disconnects from his brain when he's trying to confess feelings and that is 1000% more endearing

• "Years of tutoring in philosophy and law, why didn't you ever teach me about love and marriage?"/"You're not marrying for love and there's nothing about it that can be taught."

• To which my roommate that I dragged to see this twice and who has just been forced to talk about this show with me, maintains that perhaps you could maybe convey that relationships are about communication

• That lesson might've helped just a bit

• "You're not marrying for love" like Merlyn is trying to warn Arthur and he sure did not listen

• "They should be reading" Arthur babe they literally can't, it's the Middle Ages

• Also the establishment of no magic is so deftly handled

• Arthur complaining that people think that dragons are real and you get exactly what this world is

• I love that I Wonder What the King is Doing tonight becomes his noble king music

• Also I just absolutety love any time anything has a recurring musical theme it just lights up some part of my brain every time

• The yelling of "he's scared" and all of the subsequent lyrics in that spot is again hilarious and just very good characterization

• Also the delivery of the slaying a dragon part whatever that singing accent is I love it

• Actually the way he sings all the parts where he's imagining what other people are saying

• The other characters have a lot of songs that are gorgeous and require some incredible vocals and songs with fun lyrics and fun performances but not at lot of them get to infuse this much personality and character into the songs through just the delivery

• Don't know if that's from the original or not but it's one of my favorite characters introductions I've seen in a bit

• From what I've seen this is definitely an escalation of previous versions and I adore it

• He's so annoyed, he hates this shit so much and he's so funny

• I mean also lots of credit to the lyrics because they are obviously very funny

• I love this song a lot

• Arthur's "shhhhit" when he realizes that he's managed to run into his future wife

• The multi-layered complication line, so quintessential Arthur

• The contrast between the gorgeous Julie Andrews channeling singing and Genny's brashness in her movement and dialouge

• Like obviously that's already in the lyrics but the book and direction just stretches it

• Everyone knew Phillipa Soo was going to be perfect and she is

• A lot of my strongest impressions are about Arthur

• Because I had no idea who the actor was and because in the limited amount of adaptations I'm familiar with of this whole story, Arthur is the bad guy or a good but extremely boring guy

• But I knew going in that I was gonna love Guenevere and Phillipa Soo even if I've never seen her on stage before

• So it was unsurprising

• Like my expectations were sky-high and she's so talented in every way and the writing for Genny is so good that she exceeded them anyway

• And she's so damn funny

• Obviously the whole rescued in the wood bit is already just a good joke and I'm honestly impressed with how funny the original songs are

• I am a sucker for the thing in stories where we know what's going to happen because they've been told so many times

• When they have a character say something the audience knows is foreshadowing

• "Cause a little war" is what I'm thinking of in this moment but there are tons and every time it's a hit with me

• The delivery of the clause one bit is perfect and her backing Arthur into falling on the bench and then just turning around and back to angelic singing

• The turnaround from the aggressiveness to the extremely soft and feminine singing is brilliant

• "The more knights slaughter each other, the fewer there are to slaughter the rest of us"

• The exchange about the dowry still being in the carriage

• Their deliveries are so funny

• They immediately bounce off of each other perfectly

• And Genny not even escaping with the dowry she's supposed to be using to buy her freedom, amazing

• "What is power uuuused for? That is a very interesting question."

• Genny just immediately knocking Arthur's socks off

• Trying to write out some of the word deliveries he does is so hard but there are a few that absolutely kill me

• They've known each other for five minutes and they're already having a debate

• "I've known kings, I'm daughter of a king so marrying a king doesn't have the same allure for me that it apparently has for you"

• She just speeds through those words at the end and it's great

• "They run to here" is another bit of hilarious delivery but I also love the contrast it sets up between Arthur trying to be kingly in a way that doesn't fit versus later when he does it his own way

• I could listen to them go back and forth saying why for ten minutes

• Genny's incredulousness when he says the weather

• I can't remember but I think she's walking away and then just turns to stare at him in absolute confusion

• Like he's so ridiculous that she can't help but engage

• I did a quick bit of intermission math and we know this takes place seven months before the Lusty Month of May which is obviously happening in May

• So Arthur is literally singing to Genny about how there's no winter until December while at best - assuming the one month later and six months later are rounded up - it is snowing at the absolute beginning of November

• More likely October

• No wonder Genny thinks he's full of shit

• His improv did not pan out

• This is a joke for me, thank you Aaron Sorkin

• Do love that canonically, Arthur is in fact singing the song Camelot - that he just made up in a panic - what a dork

• Genny's little interjections of skepticism are all so funny

• Also just instantly establishing her as someone you love

• She's perfect

• But my favorite is "my escape is time sensitive, do you understand that?"/Arthur still singing/"no he does not"

• These actors are both hilarious, the amount of stuff required of musical theater actors continues to blow my mind

• Like not only to do the whole singing, dancing, and acting thing but then you have to convey it to a whole theater but also not overact to the people up close and be able to do comedy and drama how

• I was in practically the back row up top and not a good view but extremely close (like seeing the actors spit close) on the side for the under 35 tickets and then also in very good seats and the performances by literally everyone never felt too much or not enough

• "Are there any other people in these woods you could recommend?"

• Also this moment which is the cutest thing you've ever heard

• Do I remember exactly what happened? No. But do I know it was adorable? Yes.

• "And we have poets in France"/"Oh yes of course... But do you?"/Genny angrily naming French poets/"Understood" and he's already singing again

• The entire performance of this song and especially getting her to sing along, so charming in the most annoying way

• But also she's sort of into it which is cute

• I do see on YouTube that there was a bit more to this French poets discussion which was probably right to cut but I am delighted to find literally anything new

• Sidebar

• I have been known to have issues with staying present when I watch things and not letting my mind start wandering. And one of the reasons I knew Camelot was good the first time was that I was totally engaged the whole show. But the last time, I did have the one moment where a thought popped into my brain during this song that completely threw me out of it

• And that thought was "this Barbie has taken a carriage ride to hell" after Genny says that line and like why brain?

• (For the record Genny and Arthur are both Barbies. They are everything. Lance is just Ken. Perfecting his body and soul is his beach. He is Kenough. Arthur and Genny have a terrible day every day. Lance only has a terrible day if Arthur and/or Genny look at him.)

• (I believe I have come up with a combination of words that have never been spoken before and perhaps a genuinely new opinion on a thousand year old legend)

• (In a bad way)

• Anyway

• The pure chaotic comedy of the knights finding Arthur and Genny freaking out is not something I can articulate but I adored so much

• Phillipa Soo is stealing the whole show in this one

• Does Genny come out of her hiding spot with her mouth wide open before she gets on the ground or am I misremembering?

• "We call that a sin of omission your majesty"

• With no remose "oh we call it that too"

• "Were you never going to tell me?"/"No I was going to get to it"/"When?"/"After I told you about the weather"

• Not a single bit of remose again

• I don't have anything to say, I just think the exchange is very funny

• I love not making Arthur any kind of royalty, he is truly just some guy

• Like I'm reading The Once and Future King and Arthur's lineage is so weirdly complicated and I just don't care, I like him as some guy

• "He discovered he didn't have his sword because I left it at... a house, that doesn't matter, that's my fault"

• Now that's a line that is funny on time one and fills you with dread afterwards

• The most exasperated "I was just going to borrow it for the day"

• Something about the delivery of "when I opened my eyes the square was filled with people shouting god save the king"

• Like Arthur never actually says out loud that he didn't want to be king but Genny gets it right away

• "I see you now, you're just a boy wearing a crown you never wanted sitting atop a throne two sizes too big"

• Just an absolute cutting response but Arthur doesn't take it that way at all, he's so earnest

• She reads him to filth but it doesn't even rattle him, he just takes it because it's true

• Gorgeous writing in what she says and his response

• "But provenance has put us both here, both of us highness and want it or not we are commanded to wear that crown and to grow into that throne"

• Chills, the delivery is outstanding

• We finally get King Arthur

• And Genny being convinced, all it took was one genuine moment and she's ready to engage

• Then Arthur again just taking so passionately about what he wants Camelot to be

• No wink, no sarcasm, no shame

• This show is unabashedly sincere and optimistic and I love it

• Genny falls in love with Arthur, I fall in love with Arthur, Genny falls in love with Camelot the idea, I fall in love with Camelot the show

• Everyone including the audience and Arthur were already in love with Genny for Phillipa Soo reasons so there's no moment for that one

• I feel like the trope-y thing would be to have Genny be a cynic here but no, she's just as much of an idealist as him

• She put up a little front of cynicism at the beginning but as soon as she gets the option of hope, she's choosing it instantly

• "Or you can stay. And together we may discover if power might be harnessed as a force of good"

• Like he's instantly treating her as a partner in this endeavor

• And I Wonder What the King is Doing Tonight playing under it so beautifully and then the seamless musical transition back to Camelot is so perfect

• I am music stupid so I wish I had something to say about it but your songs have got to be tight to flow that way

• "I don't know if I'm worthy" also just a heartbreaker

• We don't really get to hear anything about Genny's life in France but she's clearly very opinionated and competent and I wonder if besides the whole wanting romance and adventure thing

• She also had an idea of what the life of a queen is like

• After all she's the daughter of one

• And she didn't imagine having this kind of role in actual ruling and doesn't know whether she can live up to this ideal that Arthur has set

• Like maybe she thought the only way she'd get to impact the world was knights killing each other over her or being the cause of a war, at least that's something

• But now she has a chance at more and she's grabbing it

• Genny singing the reprise is so beautiful thematically - it makes me a little teary just watching her instantly be like I see your dream and understand it and I want to be part of it but via some of the best singing maybe ever

• Such an amazing recontextualization from the original

• I've seen little clips of this reprise from 1961 and this one just feels warmer and more meaningful because it's about the ideals and not them confessing love at first sight

• And somehow more romantic

• They're instantly established as a team who share intellectual and philosophical similarities

• To so quickly convey that and make it believable

• It not only cements their relationship but makes them characters you root for

• And then the sounds of people coming in as soon as or maybe even before they get to finish singing together, like it's their world and they're falling for each other but there's no time, they're king and queen now and that will always supercede their relationship

• Also something about the moment when Arthur introduces her to the court just also really gets me

• "She's nice... some of the time"

• It's cute how smitten he is with her, all of her, immediately

• "Something about her makes me want to be a better king" (so Arthur is actually capable of expressing a romantic thought, don't get used it it)/"She's very attractive"/"Oh she is but it's not that"/"Arthur"/"Well it's not just that"

• I love the way they flip the speech Arthur gives Genny from the original about not feeling like a king until now meeting her

• But now that they've actually gotten to know each other a bit and it's after she's agreed to stay it actually makes sense here

• I do also love that even though he can't manage it to Genny's face, he does feel completely comfortable expressing his feelings about her to Merlyn

• The "oh she is" is so cute, he's so excited

• The music under his conversation with Merlyn before he starts just monologuing, very ominous

• I'm obsessed with it

• "We finally have peace" is another line delivery that I just need to sit and think about

• The joy of it, the relief

• Again the idea that Arthur has been a king at war this whole time

• Merlyn mentions, as part of a joke but still, almost as soon as we meet Arthur that he's fought armies

• He's not optimistic about the world because he hasn't seen conflict

• He's more determined because he sees what it does

• Channeling best man in all fiction Waymond Wang this is how I fight energy and that's very my shit

• Very much my shit might be a slight understatement

• It might not be surprising to learn that Arthur is my favorite thing about this show, they revamped this character so well

• So much of my life was spent in the media age of male anti-heroes and I love that we've returned to a point of male heroes

• Arthur idealistically talking about how they can finally start making Camelot for everyone and Merlyn walking off stage while the ensemble sings I think the part from the cut song and I assume some new stuff that's very Medieval church music

• So so good

• "What do I do next?" so eager and then just the emotional drop-off to his scared little boy when it becomes clear what's happening "Merlyn?"

• Stunning performance

• I think Arthur falls to his knees at some point but I'm already doubting

• The "what the hell do I do now?"

• Perfect scene ender

Act 1, Scene 2: The King's study - one month later

• The transition music between scenes is always good

• It's gonna be a struggle not to just quote this whole scene

• "Arthur, please call me Arthur" is so desperate like he has no one now, no actual human connections to him as a person instead of a king now that Merlyn is gone

• And then asking what she was called back home, he wants connection so badly

• And probably he still feels guilty for taking her from her home to be his wife

• "I was a royal princess, I didn't have friends"

• Well there is a reason they're both terrible at relationships

• I also love the way Phillipa Soo says Arthur in such a stilted way at the beginning of this scene and it becoming more natural every time she does it

• Genny telling him he's not attending to his duties with enthusiasm like she is not the least bit afraid to challenge the king a month in

• Love to see it

• Arthur's "I beg your pardon" when she asks about cortesans and the look he gives her

• "My father kept his women, his extra women, in their own wing of the palace. Where are yours? Might they cheer you up?"

• Genny the proactive problem solver

• Also something about the way she says extra women makes me laugh

• "I don't have extra women, I'm a married man. You were at my wedding" perhaps one of my favorite deliveries and lines in the whole show

• Genny's point of view in this scene is very interesting

• Like she does bring up that it's his legal right instead of dropping the whole thing and that's a choice

• Does she think he's lying about not having cortesans and reminding him that she is legally obligated to be cool with it so to be honest?

• Or is she just baffled by Arthur and his choices because this is a normal thing for a king to her?

• Or maybe since she already has feelings, she's trying to balance her own expectations to not get hurt?

• Possibilities

• "I'm aware of my legal right in that regard and I assure you I have no intention - oh my god - no intention of exercising it"

• Specifically the delivery of oh my god but the whole thing, he is so offended

• "And making the world into Camelot, are you abstaining from that too or will men at honor continue to plunder villages and take, rape, and kill whatever they please?"

• Genny

• Genny you are a hero

• She's so smart and fierce and unafraid to stand up to Arthur

• "I didn't make the world"/"You make a part of it"

• Arthur being so defensive and Genny calmly holding her ground

• She's taken to her new role so well

• And then Arthur admitting he doesn't know how to proceed without Merlyn, I love the way he builds trust in her in this scene

• "What would he say?"/"He'd say my god you're the slowest student anyone's ever tried to teach"/"Well I can convincingly say that"/"It's good that you mock me, kings should be mocked from time to time, it brings people pleasure. But for the record it's no fun for the king"

• Genny sounding so pleased with herself, Arthur getting out another sarcastic response

• Also what a lie, it is fun for him

• Mocking each other and public policy are their love languages

• "He once explained why but I got distracted because a white tailed eagle flew right by" with the most excitement and boyishness

• And then starting to go off on a tangent about eagles

• Never change Arthur

• I just think it's sweet the way she redirects him because she's fully committed herself to the idea of Camelot and her role in it

• "Pace freely at your own pace"

• Another brilliant line and delivery

• Channeling some Mary Poppins here

• Genny getting Arthur to think is so good

• "You had to pace and comcentrate to arrive at that?"/"It's hard to imagine why your country was willing to part with you"

• The proposition/resolved structure of this scene is very good

• And also that he starts with this pessimistic tantrum about human nature and Genny guides him back on track

• It's a great relationship moment but it also lets Arthur have some struggle and lets Genny be for Arthur what he was for her in the first scene

• Arthur collapsing on the floor and muttering "extra women" like wow he cannot handle being thought of as not a good person

• "That's it?"/"Wait"/"I wasn't going anywhere"

• Her being on the floor with him, gently pushing him

• He can't even maintain cynicism for more than a few minutes

• Them building the idea of the round table together, this is peak romance

• I can't just quote this scene in its entirety but every moment of it is a delight of them passing ideas back and forth

• "Isn't it also about the law?"/"It is"

• A standout delivery

• I love when they're working out the wordings like they make each other better

• "The law will be the stone upon which this rock - the rock upon - wait the church?"/"Have mercy"/"The law will be the rock upon which this church is built"/"Nothing can be more important"/"Nothing can be as important"

• This is what I love about Sorkin's writing

• The way that he has characters discuss ideas

• Like everything is an exciting discovery

• There's no singing in this scene but it has so much rhythm and is so compelling when in another writer's hands it would be boring and forgettable

• I broke out a chunk but it's so dense there are so many words and I love each one

• Genny counting down to his return, she already knows him so well

• Again I am trying not to type out every line

• I think they both yell for the page but I'm actually not sure, either way they are so excited and yelling something

• The new book has done so much to deepen their relationship, I adore these idealistic little nerds

• Arthur cannot contain himself

• His attempt to cool things down for himself by taking his hands off her face and then "you were very helpful, thank you"

• Smooth

• Convincing

• Definitely professional and platonic

• Truly do not know how Genny does not realize he's in love with her at this point but she sure is not gonna get better at that

• "And I suppose France too"/"I know that hurt"/"A little bit" and then he laughs it's adorable

• They're both so giddy here

• "Arthur I did already know that about you, that you were a decent fellow"/"I'm glad"

• They're in love. They are so in love.

• Arthur has taken on Genny's tone for the word inspiration when he talks to the knights

• "You've invited the French" every time Sagramore says it, it's just as funny

• "We may not be born equal"/"We are not sire" (with so much contempt)/"So our laws will make us equal" (with no room for disagreement)

• The immediate conflict

• And we see Arthur being a king and taking a hard line which we don't get to see much in this show and I love it

• "What about God's laws?"/"Not. Our. Jurisdiction" like are we sure this is not actually from the west wing

• I'm internally cheering when I hear it, I love this line far too much

• It's funny but also authoritative and kingly

• I get that some people do not vibe with Sorkin's style and that's fine but I very much do

• This show is so for me it's kind of incredible it was not made with that purpose

• A Sorkin character who would love Sorkin's work, I just adore it

• And according to the funniest line from any review I read, also has Sorkin's haircut

• That just lives in my brain because it's funnier than any piece of media criticism I will ever hear

• The knights already dissenting is very good but also that they don't fully agree yet with each other

• They build it in immediately and that's such a good choice, it makes every escalation feel totally plausible instead of the knights just easily falling for Mordred's bullshit

• Dinadan quoting Plato's ideas and saying how they're the well-educated people who should be in charge is great

• I love that the knights get to be characters and have thoughts

• Their constant vacillating between loyalty to the king and loyalty to the power structure they benefit from

• One of my favorite running tensions

Act 1, Scene 3: The countryside outside of Camelot - six months later

• The performance of C'est Moi is so funny

• Going 100% immediately

• Jordan Donica was just as perfectly cast as everyone else

• The lyrics are so funny and then he is just so loud

• His little whispered "C'est Moi" after the second verse while posing is so much funnier than it is on the cast recording

• "Had I been made the partner of Eve/we'd be in Eden still" is my favorite lyric

• The scream on clean destroys me

• Lance is always at a 10 and he's so delusional, I'm obsessed with him

• There's so much loud breathing in this performance which I love

• And whirling his sword around the stage

• "Beware enemies of Arthur do you hear me beware, from this moment you answer to me" while Arthur is literally unconscious behind him, this is comedy

• "You raised your sword to me"/"Oh I was saying hello"/"I did not know that"

• Lance is not sorry at all and it's hilarious

• He's just on another planet compared to everyone else and I love it

• Also Arthur so pure, just seeing a random person and trying to say hi

• Like you're the king of the country, you do know many people are not exactly going to be friendly, right?

• "I honestly thought I was more recognizable to the French"

• "Have you changed your Francs to English shillings?"/"Why?"/"This man's face is on money"

• Arthur subtly trying to tell Lance what's happening but the word subtle is not in Lance's vocabulary

• "I'm underwhelming in person"

• Says the man that keeps making French people instantly fall in love with him in the woods

• "My security detail... right in the nick of time"

• "I beg your majesty to forgive for me for by forgiving me I'll suffer even more"

• Lance is screaming the whole time

• I don't know how he does it

• "But my strength comes from purity of spirit"/"What was that?"/"Purity of spirit, my personal relationship with the almighty, he favors me"/"I'd keep that to yourself"

• I can't write it out but this

• And this is about to have to switch out for the rest of the show so like even more screaming somehow

• He's so funny, it isn't reasonable

• Also love that his language is the least modern of them

• It fits

• Seems like some of his lines come directly from the original book and it works amazingly

• "Be a faultless example to children" is another iconic delivery

• Also Lance asking for a mission, incredible

• He just plays everything so straight and it's perfect

• Like not a single acknowledgement of the ridiculousness of this character

• Arthur will literally get a concussion to avoid a social function, relatable

• "Until you came along and whacked me in my head"/"AND FOR THAT I BEG YOUR HARSHEST PUNISHMENT"/"Nope, nope, we're not going back to that"

• Yes the all caps is necessary, Lance is always speaking in caps, if he lived in a time a cell phones all of his texts would look like that

• And Arthur's tone when he responds

• When Lance starts singing again and then Arthur just says nope so many times

• This is their whole relationship

Act 1, Scene 4: A park near the castle

• This scene is just a magnificent Phillipa Soo showcase that we have been blessed with

• Like she is just so talented and I am blown away

• There's a reason Lusty Month of May is the song they have the most out there

• "The birds and the bees with all of their vast/amorous past/gaze at the human race aghast" is my favorite and she does it so perfectly

• Also the intro music just exactly captures that buzzy spring feeling

• My roommate and I both had the experience where the first time we saw the show, none of the music stuck with us

• And then the second time, all of the sudden it burrows into your brain

• This burrowed first because of course, it's so vibrant and lovely

• The original music is so good and somehow the transition from the more modern dialouge into the songs is seemless

• Genny has two missions: justice for all and bringing sex to England

• Look there's none in her own marriage and she needs an outlet, make those people kiss, it's all you have

• Genny's so fun and adorable in this song and it's perfect and I have no notes

• I'm just gonna go watch the today show performance and bask in it, this is the most classic Broadway musical sequence in the whole thing

• I love the idea that she's inviting all these normal people in and the beginning of the knights absolutely hating it

• "Be right quieter"

• And when they refer to Genny as a guest in the country

• The original is very and everyone loves her and I love that there's this tension where the people with power don't like her but everyone else does

• They say all the quiet parts out loud in this scene

• The show needs the knights so badly to show the discontent growing over time

• But they still respect tradition enough to enforce respect for the queen on Pellinore

• "I've only lived here a short time"/"Oh and you're already the queen, well done"/"I really had nothing to do with it"

• "Full of youth he was but brooding over problems that would confound Solomon. Ever met him your majesty?"/ "Constantly, he's my husband."

• With such affection ahhhh

• "You must be Morgan Le Fay... oh how he'd go on about the loveliness of Morgan Le Fey, her unsurpassing beautiful"

• Genny getting emotionally slapped in the face, it hurts so much

• The first crack in their relationship because they couldn't talk to each other...

• "I'm glad that nice young man found a nice young lady"

• Why does this make me feel things?

• I love the royal music every time

• "As you were everyone, pick grapes, eat flowers, or uh the other way around"

• Arthur and Genny's little catch up about Pelli is very cute, we don't get to see them be cute for a while after this so I just want to appreciate it

• Lance having no social awareness and continuing to make proclamations while Genny could not care less and is actively trying to speak to someone else, brilliant

• Genny and Arthur just waiting for Lance to stop talking after she keeps being interrupted and then Genny rushing out her lunch invitation and Arthur rushing out his response

• Arthur immediately wanting to run ideas by Genny, she is crucial to the development of Camelot and it's very much not a secret

• Arthur's "uh oh" when Lance is doing some casual misogyny

• "That sounded like a friendly exchange of pleasantries"/"It was not"

• No fucks for Genny today

• I wish I could one day know the translation of Genny and Lance's friendly exchange of pleasantries

• "Who would serve as the standard?"/"Oh certainly not me your majesty"/"See no hubris"/"My standards are much too high"/"Dammit Lance"

• "Have you achieved perfection milord?"/"Please say no"/"Of course I haven't your majesty"/"Good"/"Refining the soul is an endless struggle... but physical perfection"/"No"/"Yes"/"Go back to speaking French"

• "And in your quest for spiritual perfection have you considered the value of humility?"/"Ah something we should all consider. In fact let's take two minutes of silence to consider the value of humility."

• The dialouge between the three of them is so funny in this scene

• The ship is sinking and Arthur is just there with a tiny bucket while Lance and Genny keep creating giant new holes

• Genny calling Lance a jackass is both hilarious and also so valid

• "She already has an affectionate nickname for you"

• We have officially reached the beginning of the end, well we had some nice moments

• Like imagine if Pelli didn't start going on about how in love Arthur was with Morgan and then Arthur didn't show up with his new best friend who immediately implied women were too stupid to engage in government

• Genny was having a no fucks day and was probably ready to do a stupid thing and maybe that stupid thing was her husband

• A true tragedy

• "And with humility I"

• Dinadan's line deliveries are so dry and good

• And Genny's laugh

• "And whom will the three of you want to impress?"/"We want to impress the king too."/"Ah yes English men"

• I love the knights, they've all got their own little comedic touches in this song

• Gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss Genny

• Take Me to the Fair is a masterpiece

• I don't know what constitutes a hot take about this show because there are 5 people talking about it

• But my hot take is that as much as Lusty Month of May is a brilliant and amazing song

• This is actually the Phillipa Soo tour de force

• Her fake crying is so good

• There are so many good flourishes in the singing

• Same thing I feel about I Wonder What the King is Doing Tonight, Phillipa Soo is just enhancing every line with her hilarious delivery

• Also this sound

• Sagramore is always operating at 50% more intensity than the rest of the knights and it's perfect

• Him having to be held back by the other two when Genny sings to him

• It's involuntary at this point that I turn my head back at French during this verse

• His very loud delivery of "I swear to you the challenge will be met"

• "Sirrrr Liiiiionel"/"Ma'am"/"Ugh"

• And when she gives his chest a little slap after "and young du Lac"

• Perfect

• And her laugh-cry at the end of Lionel's part

• Their faces when she touches them are also just very confused and funny, she is not good at this

• I love when the knights are singing together, bringing up Lance really has wrapped them around her finger

Act 1, Scene 5: The King's study - the night before the tournament

• "You know that it's your move right?"/"I did not know that. I'll need to alter my strategy now"

• Honestly so relatable I suck at chess, Pelli is the best

• "If we're to care about justice, we need to care even more about injustice"

• Just a good little Sorkin nugget

• Pelli refusing to understand any of Arthur's ideas, excellent

• "Do I understand that you intend to be history's first king to yield power?"/"Oh now you're catching on"

• I do just love Arthur so much

• And the delivery of "she wrote what you just read"

• He's so pleased to inform Lance that Genny's writing treatises about justice

• Pelli's smug little "it's your move" like that's correct, no one is allowed to not respect women in Arthur's study

• "He's had you in checkmate for an hour and a half"

• Arthur's patience is astounding, Lance should be taking notes while he's perfecting his spirit

• "Would you like to play me or do you ever do anything but perfect your soul?"/"No I also perfect my body"

• Again just perfect deliveries and honestly so much respect to the new book for making Lance even more irritating but eventually more human too

• I am not dragging Lance, this is a compliment

• Just the way Jordan Donica plays it completely straight without being able to detect sarcasm is hilarious

• "The arrangement I'm in is called a marriage, having some fun would be called treason. And finally I hate his breathing guts."

• Setting up the consequences we know are coming with a little joke, I like it

• "Well be sure and give us clear skies tomorrow when you're arranging things with god tonight"

• Savage, I don't like most of the original dialouge but we had a winner with this one

• Her delivery just elevates it

• "No one could refuse your wish"

• The gall of Lance to say that like that in front of Arthur like he is shameless

• "Why do you have to bait the man?"/"I dislike him, I thought I was making that clear"

• Genny is so relatable

• Their first fight and Arthur's already insulting the French, I'm not sure why he thought this was going to go well

• Arthur trying to delicately ask Genny to withdraw her permission from Dinadan

• He's trying to have this conversation as her husband and not her king but Genny is not even having it a little

• Genny explaining that she already gave permission for all the knights is so funny

• I know they're basically the original lines but ya know, sometimes Lerner nailed it

• "It will seem to the entire court as if you are rooting for his downfall and championing his defeat."/"The only reason it will seem that way is because I'm rooting for his downfall and championing his defeat."

• "He's going to embarass those three. These are not men who take well to embarrassment."

• Like Arthur already knows exactly who his knights are

• He knows that they don't exactly match up to his ideals

• The delivery on "will you withdraw your permission" is also spot on like Arthur is ready to exit this conversation right now

• Also on "if I do will you forgive me"

• Like he knows that's not happening

• "Not as long as I live, no"

• Perfect riff on the original book's line

• Arthur doing some investigating on Genny hating Lance like he knows before she even does

• Ouch

• And then him starting to get frustrated when she's not answering like babies' first fight is not going well

• "Because he needs to be brought down to earth... literally not metaphorically"

• Like she has yet to be wrong

• "Merlyn never taught me how to handle a woman"/"You didn't read the book?"/"There's a book? No I can see from your face that there's not a book. Though maybe in France they would have published something, no I can still see on your face"

• We love a Genny dripping with sarcasm moment

• And Arthur being an idiot nerd

• He's so so stupid

• Another one of my truly favorite lines and deliveries, he is so excited that he completely forgets he's mad at her for a second and then pouting when he realizes

• "If the king wishes me to withdraw my permission, let him so command... nope, then I will bid you goodnight"

• The aggressiveness on her daring him to command her is so much

• Perfect

• I love her nope, a little power play

• Because she knows he won't and he knows he won't and she's happy to remind him of that they both know that and then leave

• His silence is doing so much work too

• Damn this scene is good

• "And before I go to bed as a gesture to Lancelot and to you, I'll pray it's over quickly"/It will be"

• They're so mad, I love it

• "There should be a book"

• Grumbling sullen Arthur is very funny even if How to Handle a Woman is lowkey the worst song

• And Arthur's worst impulse, which the narrative knows because it plays under him talking about vengeance and what he's entitled to later

• Like they do a good job recontextualizing it but it's still not the best

• Just hearing him sing the word threaten is kind of jarring, I cannot even slightly imagine this Arthur even thinking it once

• In my opinion they should've just cut it, I'd gladly take more Sorkin dialouge instead

• I do appreciate the way they scaled back this music in the rest of the show

• Because it's all over the second act of the movie, Arthur and Genny's theme if you will

• Like even during their last conversation

• Because they're not the love story so their theme isn't really a love song

• But then here, they play it under Arthur's worst impulses at the end of act 1 and banish it which is so smart

Act 1, Scene 6: A grandstand - the next day

• The music coming into this scene and when Arthur and Genny show up, again fantastic

• The outright hostility between the knights and Lance, they turned it so far up in this version

• Pushing him down and shit

• I love Athur and Genny showing up and getting to see them actually be king and queen and have their over-the-top outfits and crowns in this and the last act 1 scene because it's so removed from who they are the rest of time

• Arthur's speech at the beginning trying to glorify them not having the tournament and how great losing is and having to be stopped by Genny

• He's trying so hard and his speech is not good

• The fact that she basically tells him to stop and his response is fine like I think he forgets that he's actually in charge

• I love a sword fight

• The movement, the drama, the loud clanging...

• I am but a humble girl raised on the Pirates of the Carribean movies

• Dinadan being a dick before the fight with "and now for your lesson sir"

• The way Lance knocks the sword out of Dinadan's grip and makes him pick it up before defeating him, such an asshole move

• I truly can't tell if Lance has just such a superiority complex that he doesn't realize what parts of his own behavior are making people dislike him or he's just so stuck in his toxic little mindset that he doesn't care if people hate him for it

• I kind of feel like Lance is so into his specific notions of the world that even he doesn't really know why he acts the way he does

• "Dinadan seemed very inspired by your kerchief, should we continue?"

• "You know he almost had him, right up until the moment he never stood a chance"

• Their fight being played out by proxy while Arthur makes snide comments and they give each other looks is good shit

• Sagramore's scream, he's always going so hard

• The fact that Arthur fighting instead of Lionel is new for this

• Genius

• So good

• The dialouge around it is good too

• The temptation to just transcribe the whole thing is so strong

• Commanding Lance to pick back up his sword like damn

• I love seeing this new side of Arthur

• He can and will fight and he's good at it

• "I know what a damn baguette is"

• His little bit to Lance about it just being about morale is very good

• But also he can see what's going on even if Genny can't so is it?

• The fact that he may well have won the fight if it wasn't for a cool bird, what a man

• Fun fact about me, I didn't even see the bird or realize that's why he got distracted until the last time

• He and Genny are like very much not in a good place this moment but he will let it slide to point out a bird

• Arthur's fall is very good

• Can you tell I think this scene is also very good, I've only written it like twelve times

• The fact that they're letting people fight with swords and there isn't a doctor for 12 miles, amazing planning by everyone

• The bit of everyone thinking Arthur was dead and him sarcastically correcting them is amazing 100% of the time

• "He put life back into him" is just consistently hilarious

• "I'm not wanted here Arthur"

• With the most heartbreaking delivery

• Aw we finally see Lance have some shred of being an actual person

Act 1, Scene 7: The castle terrace - on the evening of the same day

• I Wonder What the King is Doing Tonight intro-ing into this scene

• "Well you got me there" being screamed is perfect

• Pelli sensing that something is bothering Arthur, their relationship is very sweet

• Pelli describing the way Genny and Lance were looking at each other, what a shit stirer

• "It may be the only way to get him to stay"/"Maybe it's best if you let him go"/"Let him go?"/"Maybe it's best"/"Why is that?"/"Well...You said yourself, morale"

• Like she's trying to protect them but she won't say it

• For obvious reasons

• But it's confirming what Arthur already suspects

• And just drawing them further apart

• Another great her silence is doing so much work moment

• The entire telling Lance he's being invested discussion is so intense

• So much anger simmering in Arthur that can't help but come out in the line deliveries in the beginning

• Genny refusing to engage and turning her back to the whole thing

• "I'm sure he'd like to hear it from another child of France"/"This is my country now"

• Oh boy I love this exchange

• Like she's trying, she's trying so hard

• And I don't know what the fuck Arthur is thinking with that one, in what way could she possibly respond that's not going to be bad for him?

• Arthur leaving them alone like whyyyy

• And then Arthur giving Genny back her bloody kerchief, fuck

• All is very much not forgiven here

• "God dammit Pelli, I wasn't dead"

• Genny making it clear she does not believe Arthur was dead, I appreciate that she's also very clear on the fact that their world is not magical

• I wonder if Lance does think he willed Arthur back to life

• Probably

• "Don't ever say it out loud. Neither of us can ever say it out loud"

• This was another straight up gasping in the theater moment

• The entire conversation between Genny and Lance is so good and tense

• And the delivery on that line just feels like getting punched in the gut

• Phillipa Soo is amazing

• I love that she won't let them say it, that she's fighting it

• And the way she cuts him off, the way she makes him agree to not say it

• This is the intense love she wanted and it doesn't need to be said which is exactly what she needed to feel from Arthur but didn't get

• Also Lance just trying to confess his feelings the first second he can is just such an interesting character choice

• Like the truth is his purity of the soul bluster doesn't hold up to the slightest temptation

• He's ready to betray Arthur the second he leaves the room

• It's all a front

• Not intentionally, like he believes the things he says he believes

• But he can't keep to it

• I think he's so drawn to Arthur because Arthur actually has the qualities he's proclaiming define him

• But I don't even think Lance knows any of this about himself

• At least not until later

• He's just impulsive

• Which is I think what makes him an interesting character to me but also makes his motivations hardest to decipher

• Before I Gaze at You Again is such a stunning song

• And watching Phillipa Soo just emote for the whole time

Act 1, Scene 8: The great hall - on that evening

• All the music that starts this scene is brilliant

• "I'll never disappoint you"/"I know"

• I just...

• Like we the audience know but also the characters sort of all know and they are determined not to let it happen but that only makes it happen anyway

• Ugh those lines are a little nothing but they're everything

• I have the YouTube clips of Richard Burton's version of this and it does just indicate how well they've modernized

• Theater has changed so much so the pacing of 1961 compared to this is kind of fascinating

• This is also actually the writing I think is the best from the original and it is so fascinating to compare the two versions which I'm sure someone has done and I want to read it because there is so much to say

• It's so bold to close act 1 with a speech instead of a song

• I had no context coming in so they had me in the first half, I wasn't sure if this was Arthur's turn into the villain moment

• Once again I'm just like pointing to the whole speech and yelling how good it is

• Whoever decided this belonged on the cast recording is my personal hero

• This is just on my normal spotify playlist and as long as I'm not reading, I will not skip it

• But I love the idea that in the original book Arthur starts out by declaring his love for Genny and Lance and in this version it's like he's actively talking to the audience to defend himself

• To say he's not some stupid optimistic kid, that he sees everything we have

• Comes out swinging

• I can't explain how much "proposition: I am not a befuddled king" shook me, I was ready for shit to go down and I love it as the opener to this

• The pause before "whom they love", the sadness in it

• "And she didn't choose whom she married"

• Like Arthur can never get rid of that guilt

• The push and pull of this entire thing where he will try to make an argument with himself that everything is fine but the bitterness keeps seeping in until there's no rationality left

• Trying not the write out the whole thing but the rhythm of it, the pacing, this performance is spectacular

• The way the audience startles when he starts screaming

• Like he's having his back and forth rational debate with himself and finally we see him lose that control

• And it is the good shit

• I can't explain how much I came in with no context for this show and how much this completely threw me in the best way

• We're finally a glimpse of what's happening inside Arthur's head, to see the way he's been holding so much back from everyone else

• I love that he's still yelling at Merlyn, not exactly sure what I want to read into that, I feel like there are a few lines of thought

• "Am I not entitled to a man's vengence?"

• Perhaps my favorite line in the first half

• Every line is sort of my favorite but I guess let's settle on this one

• Because the original is "I demand a man's vengence"

• And same sentiment but entitled is so much more toxic

• Like the thing about this magic-less universe is that Arthur wasn't destined for some greatness and so he pulled the sword from the stone

• He wasn't owed something, he didn't deserve it, it just happened and he chose to rise to the challenge

• And this is the first moment he's decided he might be entitled to anything

• And then he does a 180 into deserving nothing

• "Proposition: I'm not a man, I'm a king"

• Like wow so much to unpack psychologically there

• I mean he and Lance have very much the same problem of trying to suppress their own humanity but the reasons are so different

• When Arthur switches into his idealistic mode and they start playing I Wonder What the King is Doing Tonight because he's being kingly, literally gets me every time

• The entire thing is so good, I love the second half so much

• "I wasn't trained for this"

• I love the running theme of Merlyn training Arthur in all of these important skills but never teaching him how to handle emotions and relationships and uh maybe he should have

• There were perhaps some limits to Merlyn's wisdom that set Arthur up to fail

• Because he's been king since he was barely out of childhood

• He never got the chance to have normal, equal relationships where he could figure shit out

• So instead he just pushes it all down because he's not wrong in that he doesn't get the luxury of following his emotions

• I love every second of this scene

• I love every line, every delivery, every movement

• Like it is a hard ask to make an actor just walking around the stage monologuing compelling in a musical and this is so so compelling

• Just on the whole of this show, I don't know that I've ever been so blown away by a stage performance as I was watching Andrew Burnap and this scene is just a perfect encapsulation of why

• Whatever he's in next, I will go

• Okay real talk something about this man's face just renders it unrecognizable to my brain so more than likely I'll see something and be like wow that person was amazing, who was that and then it will turn out to be him

• I say specifically because I happened to be watching Under the Banner of Heaven the whole time I've been having a Camelot obsession and how did I find out he was in it? I happened to see his name in the end credits four episodes in...

• But anyway I will at least try to know whatever he's in next so I can go on purpose because this performance is living in my brain and I don't think it's leaving

• I do make fun of previous versions of this show for casting people who are clearly not musical theater actors in this role but actually I do think casting actors who do straight plays does add so much as long as they aren't terrible at singing

• All of which to say again that I do think this was some of the most perfect casting I have ever seen

• Basically the statements you can tell Andrew Burnap is not a musicals person and you can absolutely tell Phillipa Soo and Jordan Donica are absolutely musicals people

• Are both extreme compliments to the people that decided on this casting

[eteledhasanaxe]

so help me I will go into the screen myself

someone hug him

[cat-dragron]

Going from Ancillary Sword into August Kitko and the Mechs from Space is such like... whiplash to my brain. Ancillary Sword was challenging to read in a way I wasn't expecting but man was it rich as hell, the depth of the worlds and characters in that book are insane. Meanwhile reading AKatMfS is like... the premise is so cool and seems right up my alley but something about the writing is just not gelling with me for whatever reason. I want to get through this book so badly because I am interested but like... part of me is just wondering is this it?? Is this all there is to it?

[wardroom-305]

why am i surprised that i feel so wonderful when someone validates the thing i spent my entire life building a false identity on

[neverendingford]

.

[whelpimnauthuman]

I think it's interesting how I don't really. Think about my walker til I use it. Like, I hear a lot of people who use their mobility aids constantly talking about how it's part of them, and ig I don't think about it, I don't feel that connection. Then I'm having to use it and it's definitely 100% part of me, and I'm not thinking about it in the way you don't think about your arm ig

[mayullla]

Title: His Dream Wife

Character(s): Richard (Original character / Original work)

Synopsis: He always wanted a perfect family, but life never gave him what he wanted. Instead, he was blackmailed into marrying a gold digger. But after seeing you for the first time the wife of his friend all he could think of was you. So don't mind him when he was given the option to swap his wife's consciousness with yours he took that chance immediately.

Warnings/tags: Yandere Dilf x meek reader, yandere pov, general yandere themes, body swap between reader and Yandere's wife, cheating (not done by reader), arranged, baby trapping, Yandere wants that traditional wife and lifestyle. Word count: 4.2k (Please tell me if I miss anything!)

Note: I just finished reading the webtoon "Marry My Husband," so you can probably see many small ideas taken from it in this story!

Ever since he was young, Richard had fantasies and dreams of a perfect family. He always loved the idea of someone relying on him just as much as he would on them, and someone who would love him exclusively and trust him completely. Maybe that was why he liked wolves, having been told back then that those animals would mate for life. He liked that. He wanted that. Friends were nice there is nothing wrong with that. But there is something about a family that he wanted. Maybe it was because he was jealous back then of how affectionate his grandparents were between each other, while his parents were far from that.

That was what he wanted and well maybe he started to want a little more the older he got. He wanted what his grandparents had, he wanted what the movies had… he wanted what his fantasies had. He loved the idea of a family, coming back from work to an affectionate housewife with her tummy big inside a second or third child while holding the first. The idea of kisses between each other, while his lover irrupts in giggles, playfully pushing him back telling him that he should not let the food turn cold or let the kids see them.

Someone he could spoil and give everything to while she relied on him and his money. He would work hard every day just for her and the kids, to give them the home they deserve. She would give back by cooking and cleaning the house, anybody knows that those things are hard work and everything takes time. But she would do it for the both of them, for him. 

Yet he wasn't able to attain that dream. He wasn't allowed to have it. He attracted the attention of a viel woman, who had used any and every blackmail to tie him down to her. He was a manager at a big company already quickly climbing up but also came from a rich family, he unwantedly got the attention of a woman who was greedy for money and something handsome. 

And her own manager was ripe for the picking.

She did many things but somehow he was able to avoid many of them however that could only go on for so long. She was cunning, too smart for her own good. He didn't know how she did it, it made him furious at what she did waking up in a hotel with her right beside him. He had no memories of the night yet she did when she told everyone that she had his baby a month later.

Everyone was frantic, his parents especially who cared so much about their appearance and reputation than anything else. While he hated them for the lack of love or care only forcing him to their whims to get a word above their acquaintances and rivals. The idea of him their own son mudding their name with the fact that he got someone pregnant without marriage made them furious. They wanted him to marry her immediately and he had no choice not when they held his job, reputation, and life above him not when that woman too did the same with her connections and people behind the scenes. It was idiotic that he fell into her hands like this, no matter what he did she did not let go and sank her claws deep into his skin.

Richard wanted to know if this child was his, but there was no time when everybody demanded his and that woman didn't give him a chance to check. Only to cry after the marriage that the child from miscarriage due to stress from his selfishness. Many blamed him even though he knew that she was lying this whole time but no matter what he said her crocodile tears worked far better than any explanation.

He was furious, angered by everything that happened but he wasn't allowed to do anything he wasn't allowed to break up with her. His life, everything that he worked for had turned to nothing by this woman. She could care less about love or something genuine and only cared about his money, demanding that he give her money to go shopping to buy expensive brand items and clothing while also going to parties and bars with her friends coming back home late leaving only a mess with how drunk she was.

Some days she would not come home at all and he assumed that she was with another man, as he didn't give in to her sexual demands even if they were husband and wife. At this point, the idea of touching her body even her hand disgusted him.

He thought he lost everything, he felt hopeless when he could not break up with that woman who made sure that he could not have a divorce without destroying his reputation and paying her a huge amount of cash. She was insane.

Rather than be with her he would rather drown in his work in his office. The house smelled like her strong perfume that could only make his head hurt the moment he took one whiff of it even though that woman wasn't even in the house having already left to head to the next new bar that opened up in the city.

That was his life, he genuinely thought that this was his ending, a story that didn't end so well, yet unable to change anything with knives around his neck daring him to move. But in the end, nothing is concrete, sometimes all it takes is helping an old lady who just so happens to be a fortune teller. 

Typing away at his computer late at night in his office as he looked at the time, his thoughts could not help but let his thoughts drift for a moment. Richard closed his eyes slightly burning from looking at the laptop for too long. Leaning his chair, he pulled his tie down a little as he thought about this afternoon when he helped out a poor fortune teller the old woman after picking some stuff up at the market, who looked to be in her 80s stuck outside homeless and struggling to open her shop. As she had dropped something that had rolled towards him he picked it up and gave it to the old lady. He didn't know what moved him to help her. But as a present, he had gotten a small viel.

"Thank you for your help. You are quite the hard worker." The old woman said, sitting on the chair when everything was finally set up. She looked at him with a sly smile on her face. The old woman he later realized had a way of speaking, that wasn't normal. Weird yet at the same time sharp... too sharp. “Too bad you are stuck with such a mean spirit woman. How you handle such a woman for so long now… I am impressed.” Sharp as in she knew too much than he would have liked for a stranger to know.

"Buahahaha, don't worry boy this would be the last you would ever hear from me after this." The old woman laughed at his stiff glare. He didn't know how she did it but she seemed to know a lot about his relationship with his wife and the trouble that he was in yet at the same time she had a knack for poking at his sore spots. 

Before Richard could think about calling the police she suddenly pulled out a vial inside containing a blue liquid, "You help me with my little trouble so I want to give you a little something, that could help you with your own little trouble. Besides, I couldn't resist helping someone in need.” 

“A little swap potion, let your wife and your sweetheart drink it and they will swap at the start of the next day. The lil spell would wear off in a month but if there is nothing to return to… well then that means nothing could even happen. Dont yah think so boy? Haha!” He took the vial from the lady, thinking about throwing it when she was nowhere in sight. The creepy grin didn't match her so-called kind action, but she was not finished with talking.

“You better move fast my boy, that woman will make sure you will be dead before a year. It is very easy to hide evidence with a car crash.”

After that, it was difficult to throw the thin vial. Part of him could not drop the liquid into the bin, so he stored it on his office desk, locked but with a key, along with other important documents and such.

"Richard!! Why did you not show up at the dinner party?! Do you know how much embarrassment you have caused me?" his wife screamed. He couldn't help but groan in annoyance the moment he walked through the entrance. It was too early in the morning for such screaming, but she just continued on and on: "And why are you here now?!! It is the next day!? Explain yourself!"

"I don't need to explain myself to you at all." Walking past his wife who was glaring daggers at him. The more he learned about his wife the more he realized that she was similar to his parents, cared only about reputation, and was selfish putting themselves first before anything else. Hypocrites. "I had to finish up some work so I stayed at my office. I needed to finish all the file work before the meeting." Unlike a certain someone who would come home the next day afternoon after being in someone else's arms. 

Walking into his own home, he could not recognize it... everything was thrown about and trashed everywhere. Expensive decorations on the floor and shattered. Sofa and pillows ripped letting cotton spill from them. Walls wet and dirty with glass cups, and pots of plants shattered on the floor. Looking at everything he kept his anger internally holding everything in as he continued to walk towards his office and bedroom locked with a key.

This wasn't the first time this happened, he had found out that there was no use to teaching someone who saw no reason to change her ways. He just needs to call in some cleaners, replace the things that broke and that was it.

Heading to his home office to place his bag on the table he suddenly received a text on his phone. Pulling out the device to check who it was while the woman continued to scream at him.

"That doesn't explain why you didn't tell me you couldn't join the dinner!" It was because she wouldn't listen, no matter what. If he had told her, she would have either demanded that he come or screamed at him—first on the phone, then again when he got home. "Answer your phone when I call! Are you even listening to me?!"

He knew of the calls and messages. She had been calling non-stop and texting for an hour since he didn't come to her friends' dinner. He just didn't care to answer and left it on mute to let him focus on his work. Looking at the sender he couldn't help but sigh.

"Hey, I am talking to you!" Her shrill screaming was mind-numbing as he got his clothes unable to stand her voice and would rather change elsewhere. "RICHARD!!!"

He quickly left the house and got into his car, ignoring the high-heeled shoe that was thrown at him—missing as it landed. Starting the engine, he drove off, tuning out her shouts.

It was past midnight, and he was alone on the road. No one else was in sight. As he waited at a red light, he pulled out his phone to check a message. It was from a "friend" he had made at university, inviting him to dinner the next day. The guy had always been friendly—or at least tried to be. He had the personality of a know-it-all, and while he didn’t care for him much, it seemed the guy had once considered them friends. That was until money and popularity got to his head.

The guy knew a lot and had multiple connections and friends, he was the one who helped him find a cleaner will to keep silent about everything that happened in the house after the housemaid quit due to his wife assuming that he and the maid had done something sexual in the bedroom. The woman was crying as her hair had been pulled and her face slapped by his wife.

He also had seen the lust in that friend's eyes whenever he looked at her. Even after the guy was married for over a year he still looked at another wife with lust, it was disgusting to Richard that his friend would do such a thing but as the guy had helped him with a few of his troubles he didn't just cut him away.

The message was an invite for a double date. Having just left his house and his furious wife behind (not that he would ever take her anywhere unless absolutely forced), he tried to decline, saying that his wife was a bit "busy."

[Dude, dont worry about it and just come then.]

[Won't it be awkward for your wife?]

[It doesn't matter she would just say that it is fine either way.]

[Don't leave me here with her. You have already talked with her either way it is not a problem anymore. ]

From what he remembered it seemed that it was an arranged marriage between the two. Something that was decided by their parents for the benefit of their companies. The guy absolutely hated the fact that he was pushed into this marriage and had nothing good to say about his wife but that was a goody two shoes and boring. "She lacks the wildness that I am looking for." The guy said he was drinking in a bar one time having called him to express his frustrations after an official meeting with her. "She probably doesn't know anything except how to clean dishes.”

"I would not leave the house with a babe like yours. How do you keep everything in your pants?" The guy asked too drunk from all the alcohol to be careful with his words. "You might like my fiance a lot with your uptight attitude and lack of fun. Maybe we should switch wives later. Hey, wanna wife swap one time? It would be fun~~."

He had ignored the very obvious lust in the guy’s eyes, choosing not to address it and instead steer the conversation elsewhere. In the end, between hiccups, the guy told him he’d introduce him to his future wife and insisted that he should come to the wedding.

A few days later, with the invitation in hand, he attended the wedding. There, he saw the guy’s wife—and he was absolutely floored.

It was just a moment. A fleeting glimpse. He caught sight of her for only a second, walking toward his friend across the hall. Through the open door of the bride's room, he saw her, and he froze.

She was stunning.

He could not believe that a woman like you would become the wife of the guy. He wanted to take a step back to see you again, yet when his wife called him he was forced to start walking again not wanting to cause a scene due to her fickle pride. 

After all, he could see you again on the walkway when the wedding starts.

But he didn't want to leave either way.

Seated on the husband's side as the music stopped hinting to the guest that it was about to start soon. He watched as his friend walked the aisle, knowing but not commenting on the dirty slutish look his wife was giving to the guy looking at him up and down and waiting for you to show up.

You arrived soon after, dressed elegantly and sophisticated holding bouquets of flowers. He noticed how pretty you were, your walk and movements were elegant and soft, a far cry to his wife who walked to call the men's attention dressed a little too revealing for the formal occasion.

Would he have married a woman like you if this wench hadn’t come to destroy his life? Would he have married you if your parents and your friend’s family hadn’t forced the two of you into it? If this wasn’t some kind of mask, and this really was you, he wouldn’t have any complaints about being stuck with you. In fact, he would have demanded it—forced it, if he could. But that wasn’t how life turned out... You were not his.

The wedding soon came to an end and that was it. Legally you were tied to his friend while he was already stuck with his own problems. It wasn't fair. He just couldn't let it go as he stayed in his seat even after the end of the wedding speech as everybody started to leave to eat and dance. While his wife went to meet up with the groom he stayed where he was just thinking.

How surprised he was that he ended up meeting you so soon.

The guy had invited him to dinner a few times and he quickly understood that it was to have someone else in the group after the guy was forced by his parents to take you out a few times. But that didn't matter to him when he was finally able to talk to you, to chat with you.

When he reached the restaurant, the guy stood up after a small conversation, stating that he needed to run to the bathroom, take a call, or use some other excuse he had up his sleeve. He left the table for as long as possible only to come back near the end with maybe a lipstick on his shirt or something. And if Richard’s wife was there, the guy would start subtlety flirting with his wife, uncaring if he or his own wife was there, not that the woman herself cared.

He pitied you, as you kept on your smile even when your eyes swirled with an understanding of your place, yet at the same time, you were still so hurt. You were silent for the most part keeping to yourself.

You and he become rather close but not really, it was a kind of comradery of your situations or that was what he would like to think. Whenever you and him were left alone, rather than keep the awkward air around he would start to talk to you.

You were a little flustered at first but slowly you started to get used to talking with him. Chatting amicably as if enjoying the conversation between you and him. He also did enjoy conversing with you. No heavy topics, it wasn't business or anything to do with work but stuff like traveling, hobbies, and favorite food. The things that you would like to do if you only had the time or chance to do them. 

You weren't loud but you were delicate, gentle, and easy to fluster too. You were polite and careful with your words but also curious asking him many questions when he talks about his own stories. You would keep all your attention on him, even if he noticed you didn't seem maybe that interested in a topic or two.

There was one time he went to your apartment, an invitation from your husband who invited him and his wife. Your place was in a high-end apartment probably paid by the family, with decorations that were chic and modern but there was also a homely feeling to the place, cleaned and cared for with love, unlike his messed up house. The smell of the house was similar to that of a fragrant laundry detergent instead of strong perfume. Just for a moment, he realized that you were the one who did all this when he saw you coming out from the kitchen unwrapping the apron you were wearing.

Just for a moment you gave him an actual vision of a home, a vision of what he wanted so much and could have had yet was taken away from him. You gave him a vision of what it would be like to have a wife who cares so much. 

He could not help but crumble and fall.

He started to crave for you, the more he chatted with you the more he fell every night he fantasized about you in his arms. He wished... he craved for you so much that he thought he started having delusions that you were his. At night, he couldn’t close his eyes without seeing you clearly in the darkness.

But you just had to break everything, you just had to slam a hammer to his dreams and fantasies just like everyone else.

"I'm sorry," you said, a sorrowful smile on your lips. "I know my husband is using you to get out of our date. I apologize for taking up your time when you're so busy. Please, I’ll make sure this doesn't happen again. You don’t have to come every time he asks you to. I’m sure you’re busy too."

Why...? Why did you say that? He thought you knew that he already understood. He thought you knew that it didn’t bother him at all—especially when you both always had such enjoyable conversations. Why did you apologize? Why would you tell him to stop coming? Why were you pushing him away?

Your eyes looked at him in sorry and guilt and it clicked you were scared you were so scared that something wrong might happen. Because in the end, you were loyal, loyal to a man who didn't even love you.

It made him livid. 

Even if you thought you knew more than he did, he was the one who knew more. He knew well what your husband does on nights that he isn't home, where he goes, and what he does there. In Richard’s own house, he could hear the sounds of two people with familiar voices thinking they were alone. 

His wife and your husband.

You didn't know that, while you probably knew that he partied every day you seemed to have hope that he didn't have the audacity to lay in bed with another married woman much less the wife of his own friend. He didn't care who that guy lay with, but it made him irritated that a guy like him had you.

That appointment ended up awkward. Too awkward as both of you waited for your husband to arrive. The guy knew something was up the moment he arrived but seemed to choose not to say anything having enough tack not to right at that moment when he usually didn't.

Looking at the message again he sighed declining the invite again even when the guy tried to put up a fuss. It was just that he could not face you right now, not when you made it clear that all you felt towards him was guilt.

If only it was you... if only he had found you first if that woman didn't chain herself to him using blackmail and connections.

If he could just swap his wife with you he would have been happier... he would have the life he wished he had and he would spoil you with all his love and time. While you would wait oh so lovingly for him while cooking and cleaning while he worked to bring the money to keep you happy materially. He would be a better husband than your own and he already knew that you would be a far more better wife than his own.

But you just had to draw that line. That line of law and morality.

Watching the road as he drove, he could not help but let annoyance fester him at this whole situation till he saw a poster pass by him. Purple with a familiar design that he saw just this morning. Something to do with a certain fortune teller who knew a little too much and who gave him a small vial.

Truthfully he didn't believe in such things, but part of him had become so desperate that he just could not think straight. He was desperate and he knew that the old woman knew that and was laughing at him for it.

"Here yah go. This is a little something that would have cost a shit ton but I am gonna give it to you for free." The old woman cackled, she was having way too much fun knowing his situation. "If you plan to add this to a drink don't worry about the colour at all."

He didn't believe in such things. But there was a whisper in his mind a little spell in his brain that told him that this would work. That there was something different about that mad woman who probably lived only in entertainment.

His hand moved before he could even think about it, accepting the dinner invitation as he finally reached his office. It was supposed to be closed, but a few employees were pulling an all-nighter, so the building wasn't locked. In his mind, all he could think about was the life he once dreamed of—the life that had been taken away from him. All he wanted was a life with you, and that thing—that vial—would be the answer to all his problems.

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

lovers of hardbacks, unite (or, more likely, divide)!

dear reader! hello! do you enjoy hardback books? do you love having opinions and pressing buttons on tumblr dot com?? then oh, boy, do i have just the poll for you!!

say you're reading a hardback book that comes with a dust jacket--a book you own, perhaps, or have borrowed from a loved one or lifelong rival or sworn enemy, or anywhere else besides the library (for the purposes of this poll, we must both Have and Be Able To Remove The Dust Jacket, i'm sorry, it's very important for Science™).

please answer for your IDEAL/MOST COMMON COURSE OF ACTION--weird exceptions need not apply (unless you want them to, or you want to holler about said exceptions in the tags/replies/reblogs. i don't know your lifestyle, but i DO want to know your polarizing opinions on the care and keeping of dust jackets) (you can also holler about why you chose what you did in general, even without weird exceptions. in fact, i look forward to reading this Discourse).

***this is SPECIFICALLY ABOUT HARDBACKS, please don't skew my science with paperback propaganda :( i myself tend toward a paperback way of being, but right now Inquiring Minds Need To Know About Dust Jackets and Dust Jackets Alone***

[capricornlevi]

inevitability- nanami x f!reader

tags: friends to lovers, salaryman!nanami, breeding, unprotected sex, fingering, missionary, mating press, creampie, mild cumplay

cw: alcohol (all sex sober & consensual!), pregnancy mentions, rough but v v consensual sex, reader and nanami are both in their late 20s/early 30s

word count: 5.3k

a/n: in which your decide with your good friend of many years that it's time to get you pregnant <3 this has been festering in my brain and i know it's pretty different than what i usually write but ! here it is! ahh! sounds of me screaming!

//

"this is weird, y'know?" you blurt out, watching as nanami hangs up his jacket by your front door before settling down beside you on the couch. he keeps a respectful distance, resting his hands on his broad thighs and smoothing down the fabric of his slacks, clearly nervous. "this is very, very weird. like, weird at levels i don't think people have achieved before."

"i know," nanami replies diplomatically, as if he could be anything but excruciatingly aware of how unconventional this is. "are you having second thoughts? because i completely understand --"

you shake your head abruptly. "no, no, just ... thinking aloud, i guess. just getting used to this, because it's really ... um ..."

"weird?" nanami offers helpfully, and you turn to nod.

"weird."

because what else do you call agreeing to have a baby with your platonic friend of 10 years?

you first met nanami on the second day of college and knew right away he'd be a good dad, even back when having kids wasn't even a consideration for you. it was obvious; he was already a good dad back then, with how he looked out for his underclassmen even as he progressed through his degree. how he stayed sober when he knew people would be going overboard, not sleeping until you texted him to confirm you'd gotten home safe after a party.

he helped you study at the weekends and, in return, you provided him with a discount at the local cafe where you worked. through this time spent knocking back americanos and proofing each other's work, you grew close.

even with all his responsibility and good sense contrasting your exuberance and recklessness, you found yourself enjoying being with him. and he could be funny, too, delivering sharp and witty quips when you least expected it.

you became inseparable. insufferable, some would call it; the matching-halloween-costume type of insufferable, a borderline codependent but obliviously happy friendship that can only be fostered on a college campus.

then right after college, when you had dived straight into your quarter-life crisis and dyed your hair every colour under the sun, got piercings in too many places, slept with questionable people and dated some even worse, nanami had gotten himself a decent, impressive, well-paying job. it was a job that had him wearing tailored suits at 23, paired with fancy glasses that cost more than your rent, and you'd laughed at him, at how serious he looked. but you also worried at how the bags under his eyes grew deeper and darker, how the amused lilt to his voice started to dissipate as time went on.

his 9 to 5 turned to an 8 to 6, and then he was working weekends and skipping movie nights, missing out on meeting new boyfriends of yours, fading into the periphery of your life with you unable to do anything about it.

as with all relationships in your twenties, it was hard to stay in touch. the higher he climbed up the career ladder, the further you grew apart.

soon, it was only on holidays or birthdays when you both would reach out, cordial and civil but achingly unfamiliar.

then, on your twenty-ninth birthday, drunk at a bar and having taken a couple minutes away from your raucous friend group, you had stepped outside to grab some fresh air only to walk head-on into nanami's firm chest.

you had spluttered apologies, lifting your head to see who you had headbutted, only to find your old friend looking down at you with an amused look on his face.

and just like that, things picked up where they left off. you spent the night talking, catching up over drinks and laughter.

with a tone that was only half-teasing, you had asked him what brought him out tonight -- it was hard enough to get him to come out for drinks when you were both in college, much less now with his big fancy job.

but he had laughed in that gentle, airy way you'd heard a thousand times, explaining that he had been out socialising with clients who had just left minutes before. he was just on his way out before running into you.

perfect timing. painfully perfect.

you stayed talking until last call, making exhilarated promises to get in touch the next day.

and to your surprise, you both actually stuck to that.

in the ten months since then, you've met up every sunday for breakfast at your favourite cafe. over lattes and freshly baked croissants, you fill each other in on the details of the half-decade spent apart. he had a serious girlfriend, serious to the point of moving in together, but she'd gotten spooked and left him last summer to go travelling. he was hurt, obviously, but understood her perspective in that annoyingly calm, measured way that is just part of his nature.

and on your end -- despite the drunken circumstances in which you'd been reacquainted, which is all part of moderation, after all -- you've actually calmed down considerably since your early twenties.

you have your own apartment. you have a rescue cat you care for immensely, even when he tries wriggling out of your arms to go stare out the window at passing cyclists. you have a retirement fund, started yoga, learned to bake your own bread.

you're not boring, you still have fun and let off steam whenever you can, but you're having the sort of revelations about life that nanami seems to have had years ago.

fun is good. fun is important. but it can't be everything, because then it starts to come at a cost.

truthfully, the birth of your nephew is what prompted you to make some changes. you didn't want to show up to babysit hungover. you wanted to have funds to hand in order to treat him to little toys and sweets when your sister allowed it, and soon found yourself amazed at how his little face lit up every time he saw you.

it made you grow up, and fast.

in the course of your cafe hangouts, you had mentioned your nephew to nanami. showed pictures of the boy's pudgy little hands reaching for the camera, told stories of how he could tell the difference between new episodes of Bluey versus reruns, and how he's changed your entire life without even realising.

soon, talk about your nephew turned to general musings about your own future.

then one night, when you decided to switch your meetup location from the cafe to a cocktail bar, you shared something that you had barely admitted to yourself.

you wanted to have a kid.

this realisation wasn't borne from some crisis about entering a new decade, it wasn't something forced on you by others or general societal pressure. it was something that grew organically, inspired by the honour of watching your little nephew grow up.

to your surprise, nanami didn't scoff or dismiss you. you figured he'd have rolled his eyes, laughing off your confession since you weren't in a committed relationship.

instead, he expressed similar sentiments, but for slightly different reasons.

"i'm sick of work being my whole life," he had mused quickly, sipping an old fashioned with a funny look in his eye. "it was only when we started hanging out again that i realised how much of my life I've wasted at a place that wouldn't care if i lived or died."

"do i need to be worried about you having the type of rebellious streak the rest of us went through ten years ago?" you asked, smiling and fidgeting with one of your rings without thinking.

he waved off your suggestion with a fond roll of his eyes. "i'm not impulsively quitting or anything, don't worry. just want to take a step back, i suppose, or find something with shorter hours. i just think there's more to life than endless hours slaving behind a desk."

you toasted to that sentiment, knocking back the last of your cosmo.

nanami continued, watching you set your empty glass back down with a soft grin on his lips. "the whole family, kids thing ... i get it, you know? it makes sense."

"yeah?" you pried carefully, interested to see where this is going.

"i'd be lying if i said i didn't think about it, too. i have a nest egg saved up which means i'd be able to take time off to help with a kid, to actually be there to see them grow up. and it's not that i want to have one just because i think i need to -- i think i'd be decent at it, y'know? the whole parenting thing."

you obviously agreed. you'd thought the same for a while now, and getting reacquainted with the man has only spurred on those thoughts.

he really would be perfect.

the issue wasn't discussed further that night, but it was brought up again at coffee the following sunday, then at the bakery the week after that, and before long, it was your birthday again.

after a massive party with all your friends and family -- and a little too much wine -- nanami had stayed behind to help you clean up, because of course he would, and you got to talking again, got to revisiting that topic that had been at the back of both of your minds.

you can't remember the exact wording of the discussion or how many bottles of prosecco fuelled the conversation, but what you do know is that when you sobered up, you didn't regret agreeing to it.

you were gonna have a kid together.

you and nanami.

coparenting.

as outlandish an idea as it might seme on the surface, when looking at it a little deeper, it made sense to you. this wasn't decided on a whim. this was something that had momentum building behind it for months and months, perhaps even years, without you even realising.

when meeting up for coffee the following week, you both gave each other an out. said there'd be no big deal if things were called off. but neither one of you took it, despite laughing for what felt like hours about how bizarre it all felt.

still, no sign of backing out.

which brings you to tonight, the agreed-upon date of when you'd start trying.

nanami had suggested using artificial fertility methods if that made you more comfortable, but you politely turned him down, thinking it unnecessary. he wasn't a stranger -- plus, you'd be lying if you said he wasn't objectively attractive -- so if he had no objections to trying things the old-fashioned way, then you didn't either.

and he obviously didn't mind too much since he's now here on your couch, folding his arms and then unfolding them as he waited for you to make the first move.

he looks good, despite all the nerves. he's filled out over the years, though he was always strong, with every muscle in his body well-defined and perfectly proportional. his hair is still blond but with the faintest specks of grey, his skin brighter and more well-rested than that night you got reacquainted.

his deep brown eyes stay fixed on you and your skin heats as his gaze traces over you.

"do you want me to kiss you?" you break the silence, the words tumble messily from your mouth.

he looks taken aback, as if this was something he'd vaguely considered but never thought would actually happen.

"do ... do you want to?"

his earnestness has you smiling, cutting through the tension, and you meet his eyes properly for the first time since he arrived tonight. he always has this way of making you feel comfortable, his presence alone is like an embrace that calms the racing thoughts that constantly occupy your mind.

it's only now that you're close, so close, you realise that maybe you really do want to --

"i wouldn't suggest it otherwise," you murmur softly as if your heart isn't hammering against your ribcage, shifting nearer to him on the couch but keeping that last bridge of distance for him to close.

his tongue swipes over his lower lip, almost subconsciously demonstrating his wishes as his line of sight drifts down to your mouth. he nods then, dipping his head, only a couple inches of space between you now.

"yeah -- yeah, okay."

you can see how his pupils dilate as you reach out to slip his glasses off, setting them down on the coffee table, cupping his face in your hands.

he returns your smile at that gesture, just the slightest hint of nerves in his eyes that disappear when he finally decides to press your lips to yours.

his lips are softer than you imagined ... though until this very moment, you hadn't even realised that this was something you had imagined.

he lets you set the rhythm but doesn't shy away; he meets your movements, your energy at every kiss, letting you stop for a moment to adjust yourself as things progress.

this should feel weird, right? you should have some lingering feeling of awkwardness at making out with your best friend, at taking his hand in yours and setting it down on your thigh to show you want him to touch you?

this was supposed to be a relatively unromantic event, after all. it wasn't meant to be the start of anything. though it was never clinical or unemotional -- you're technically starting a family together, after all, if an entirely unconventional one -- you never foresaw it going down like this.

this feels like something that was meant to happen.

he pulls back ever-so-slightly, lips still grazing against yours as he asks softly, "this okay?"

you nod by way of answer, not wanting to waste another second not kissing him. nanami captures your lips with his again, and with renewed enthusiasm, slips his tongue into your mouth, probing gently and barely hiding the low rumble of a groan deep in his throat.

all thoughts of propriety start to fade into the ether. his hand on your thigh burns hot, shifting up and down the exposed skin. you'd worn a nice dress for the evening, unsure of the dress code for an event as strange as this, but you find yourself grateful for choosing something that fell so far above the knee.

his hands are rougher than his lips but not in an unpleasant way. you figure it's from his only out-of-work hobby that doesn't consist of hanging out with you; his renovation group. nanami is part of a volunteer organisation that helps build and renovate houses for those in need -- as if he couldn't get any more painfully perfect, obviously.

you stay like that for a few more minutes, exploring these new sensations and becoming increasingly more aware of the ball of anticipation burning in your lower stomach. everywhere he touches you feels warm, every soft nip against your lips feels electric.

then, against every instinct in your body, you force yourself to pause to take a few steadying breaths. nanami responds in the same way, pulling his hands back to his own thighs, adjusting his stance on the couch.

he's hard, you can see as much from the awkward way he shuffles in his seat. not to mention the bulge very obviously visible in the front of his slacks -- just seeing it fills you with want, with the need to touch and be touched.

this is moving more fluidly than you had expected, arriving at each decision without a second thought. in that vein, you decide to ask:

"want to head to the bedroom?", hoping you don't sound as desperate as you're feeling. "if you're ready -"

"yes," he responds before you've even finished your sentence. you feel grateful that the eagerness is not one-sided as you get to your feet, taking nanami by the hand to pull him up with you.

when you've reached your room and the door is shut behind you, revealing the modest set up of your freshly-made bed and a single scented candle -- any more than that felt a little too forced, too awkward -- you marvel at the feeling of nanami's hands on your hips, somehow gentle and firm at the same time, manoeuvring you onto the bed with a pre-rehearsed confidence that never verges on forceful.

your head hasn't even hit the pillow before he's kissing you again like he's starving for it. it's messy this time, the gentle exploration from before giving way to something more primal and urgent.

you have to remind yourself that this is your nanami you're kissing. the nanami who was there for you through the most painful college breakups. the nanami who knows your coffee order, who helped zip up the back of your graduation dress.

but now, with his tongue against yours and the stiffness pressing against your stomach, all you can think is why you didn't do this sooner?

just as you're about to combust underneath him, he pulls back, balancing himself on an elbow as his eyes flick down to see how your dress is bunched at the top of your thighs. he closes his eyes, his breaths ragged and unsteady.

"i don't know how--" he whispers, tongue gliding over his kiss-slick lips, "how ... technical you might want to go about this."

you let out a little laugh, craning your neck to kiss his jawline so he knows it's not at his expense.

"i never really thought about the technicalities, but it doesn't have to be too clinical, or anything. i know you, you know me. we can just ... have sex."

"have sex," he repeats slowly, eyes open again, the hint of a grin on his face.

"yeah, have sex!" you answer with a chuckle. "or is there another way you'd like me to phrase it?"

he laughs then too, looking at you again as he shakes his head softly.

"what?" you press him with a mock indignance. "it's rude to laugh at my suggestion, actually. i felt it was pretty accurate."

"i'm not laughing at you," he says gently, lips still curved upwards. "just ... i must have pictured you saying those words a thousand times, and i never thought it -- it's just funny to hear out loud, is all."

it takes you a second to fully comprehend the words as they wash over you.

you'd be ignorant to say that the realisation never dawned on you, but it was something you thought was a relic of your college years. he had blushed a few times too many whenever the topic of sex came up at parties, had a hint of jealousy in his voice when giving advice about one particular ex-boyfriend. at your apartment complex's winter party in senior year, you can tell he was thinking about kissing you.

but that was when you were young and naive, inexperienced with life, and the thought of this nanami desiring you, of picturing you in his life, of imagining what you'd look like spread out underneath him like this --

you lift your head and grab his shirt collar, yanking him in for another kiss. when he's settled back against you, your hands weave down to unbutton his shirt. you feel him smile against your lips as he starts to unzip your dress in return.

you're a mess of limbs as items of clothing get strewn across your bedroom carpet. before long, it's all skin-on-skin, the heat of his body pressed against yours before he grabs your waist and flips you over until you're straddling him.

you feel the length of him pressed against your stomach, hot and painfully hard, but from the way he cups his hand against your neck and starts to kiss your throat, you know he's not going to rush this.

just as you gasp out his name as his teeth nip against your pulse point, he brings his other hand to the apex of your thighs, fingertips resting just over your pubic bone, barely brushing against the sensitive skin.

"want me to touch you?" he mumbles quietly against your throat, the way his breath fans over you making you shiver.

you nod pitifully, hips canting towards him, but he doesn't budge.

"need you to say it," he says low, quiet, thumb shifting down by the millimetre, "need to know how much you want it."

"i want it," you gasp, the arch of your back deepening the closer he gets to your aching core, all concerns about appearing desperate evaporating with every press of his lips to your skin. "i want it, kento, p- please touch me."

nanami obliges, fingertips trailing down until his thumb is brushing over your clit. he slides his hand lower, fingers slipping through your damp lips, and then uses your own wetness to start rubbing you in earnest.

any form of articulate thought slips from your mind, replaced with only those that can get you more of this -- nanami's fingers playing with your clit, the other hand possessively resting at your nape, his cock pressed between you with precum beading at the tip.

you want it in your mouth. you want it inside you, and as you go to shift your hips, nanami shifts his back.

"want to see what you look like when you come first," he says, slipping his middle and ring finger inside you as if to prove he's going about it the right way.

and he really is, because after only a few strokes of his fingers, your vision is getting hazy. you've never been this turned on so quickly before, never felt this desperate, all-consuming urge -- but then again, you've never had a man look at you like this before now either.

you try to focus on the sensation of his fingers stretching you open, his thumb still stroking your clit in the perfect rhythm, but your mind wanders to the thick cock pressed up against you. you want to rub against him, let him fill you up, make him feel good too --

but looking at his face now, pupils blown and lower lip raw from biting down on it, you can tell this is as much for him as it is for you.

less than a minute later it hits you, the explosion of warmth radiates out to every cell in your body, rendering you a boneless mess in nanami's arms.

he holds you as the aftershock subsides, strong arms keeping you steady even when your legs feel as though they've turned to jelly. when you feel capable of supporting yourself, you slide ungracefully from where you were perched on his thighs and fall back against your pillows, head spinning blissfully.

nanami leans down next to you and kisses your forehead, whispering words of praise that fill you with a strange sensation you can't quite place.

"want to take a break?" he ask after a few moments have passed, "or if you're tired, we can try again later --"

"no," you cut him off, turning your head to look at him directly, face splitting into a smile through the post-orgasm haze. "i just need a second is all, i still -- if you want to --"

"i do."

and so to ease yourself back into it, you kiss him slowly, intimately, bodies gently intertwining as he shifts closer to you on the bed. you guide his hands to your chest, gasping as his thumb circles a nipple.

"you're just ... beautiful in a way i don't really have words for," he mumbles, watching you squirm pleasurably under him.

"nanami kento lost for words? a first time for everything," you manage to quip through it all, earning a pinch of the other nipple that turns your laugh into a moan.

"we've plenty more firsts to get through tonight."

at that, nanami shifts halfway down the mattress and gets to his knees, hands gripping your thighs as he spreads them open. he takes his cock in his hand and slowly drags the head through your folds, up and down but not yet penetrating you, appreciating how you're almost sucking him in, the eager way you pull back your legs to accommodate him.

he stays like that for a minute. every time you think he's about to sink in, he holds himself back as if transfixed by the obscene sounds that come from playing with your pussy, of using you to stroke himself off.

he looks to be on the verge of a choice, like his brain is fighting between two options: taking you slow and gentle like you deserve, or sinking in and fucked into you desperately, filling you up until he knows he's bred you, that you're his and only his.

you soon glean that he wants you to actually say it out loud, wants to hear those words he's fantasised about for so long.

"fuck me, kento."

now utterly unable to hold off any longer, he heeds your request, lining up and thrusting inside you in one fluid motion.

it's a pleasant stretch; he's still careful to let you adjust to his size but you're soon relishing the feeling of being so full, and the fucked-out grin on your face spurs him on.

his hips shift back inch by inch until he's almost fully pulled out, letting out a low groan as he sinks back in again, and at that, he knows he's a goner, completely lost to the feeling of his entire length buried inside you.

this is nanami at his most possessive, fucking into you as you're caged in by his strong arms, your knees now pulled back as far as they'll go. the skin on the back of your thighs is raw from your nails digging into them but you don't care, single-minded in your aim to keep the head of his cock brushing against that perfect spot inside you.

your shoulder blades press into your soft pillows as you try to keep from writhing too much, wanting with all of your might to avoid upsetting this perfect rhythm.

above you, nanami's perfect cheekbones are flushed, his brows knit tightly together, your silky walls wrapping tight around his cock in a way that's driving him to the brink sooner than he'd like. against all better judgment, he slows down just slightly, allowing himself to indulge in the sensation.

"you take my cock so well, y'know that?" he mumbles in between quiet grunts, "with that pretty look on your face when i fill you up... you're trying to kill me, i swear to god."

you both laugh breathlessly before yours breaks off in a moan, slurring his name as he speeds up subconsciously. he presses his lips to every inch of your neck, jaw, collarbone, thrusts unrelenting but never too much.

if you weren't already aware of how soaked you are, the slick sounds of his cock sliding in and out of you provide more than enough proof, melding with the soft squeak of your bedsprings to just about cut through the muffled sound of your moans.

your body now guided more by instinct than intention, you slip your hand down to where your hips are pressed together, two fingers circling the swollen bud of your clit. the angle of his ruts means his cock grazes your fingertips as he pulls out, the desperate rubbing of your hand between your legs spurring him on.

"still want me to come inside you?" he says then, strands of hair coming loose, sticking to his forehead, "want me to fill you up?"

you nod feebly -- the answer clearly not sufficient in itself, since he leans in, pressing his forehead to yours as he meets you for a wet, messy kiss. continuing his question with his lips still touching yours, he asks;

"want me to take care of you? want to be my pretty wife, hm, wanna -- fuck -- wanna be mine, yeah?"

you slur something unintelligible, focusing on the second orgasm gathering quick and hot in your core. you lose your grip on your thighs and fumble to pull your legs back up.

nanami helps to hike your legs back up -- but not in their original position. instead, he guides them until your ankles rest on his shoulders, and after taking just a second to press a kiss to your calf, he sinks back to the hilt. feeling him bottom out, your vision nearly goes white; this new angle allows him to slide in so deep it's practically splitting you open, so deep you can tell he's serious about breeding you.

somehow, the sensation remains just shy of too much -- it's not too much of a stretch or causing too much sensitivity -- it's more than you've ever taken but you honestly feel you could stay like this forever, taking nanami's cock like you were made for it, with him looking down at you with a mixture of reverence and pure lust.

you want him like this for the rest of your life.

"i'm gonna need you to answer, cos I'm pretty close," he half-pleads as if reading your mind, his voice deep and strained, firm chest heaving as the thrusts get messier and less coordinated.

though your mind is near-blank and your lungs feel they can't get enough air, you manage to mumble a "fuck, yes. want -- want you to come inside, kento ... please."

that last word tips him over with you following almost immediately after, clenching around his cock as you feel him pulsing inside you, feeling more full than you've ever felt in your life. his head tips back as he cums, moaning beautiful praise you can just about make out, strands of sentences about you being the only one he wants taking his come, about how he's going to keep fucking you full for as long as it takes.

sparks of electricity reverberate through your body, hips pushing against his as you ride out your orgasm, pretty little whimpers harmonising with nanami's continued praise.

you stay like that for what seems like forever, basking in the wave of pleasure that's just swept you away effortlessly.

everything is just ... warm. purely and blissfully warm. the warmth of his hands still gripping your legs, the warmth of your own breath fanning over your sweaty chest, the warmth between your legs that starts to dribble down the backs of your thighs when nanami pulls out.

for good measure, nanami uses two fingers to push some of his come back inside, grinning as aftershocks pulse around the digits.

you lower your tired legs to rest on the mattress, thighs aching from being bent practically in half, but it's easy to disregard any physical exhaustion when you feel this level of contentment.

nanami's arms are soon wrapped around you, pulling you to rest on top of his chest where you spend some moments of perfect silence.

you can hear his heart beating in his chest, skipping a beat when you angle your head up to meet his gaze again.

"well?" you ask, a smile imbued in your words. "still lost for words?"

"just thinking about how every second of this was worth waiting for," he replies without missing a beat, eyes crinkling at the corners as he watches how his answer flusters you.

with one hand behind his head as he rests of the pillow and the other wrapped around your shoulders, nanami looks more relaxed than you've maybe ever seen him.

this is a man who looked on the verge of a nervous breakdown when you reconnected less than a year ago; he's almost unrecognisable now, the dark circles under his eyes have faded, his face filling out a bit more, the smile on his face entirely genuine.

and in this moment you feel a burst of clarity, a sudden realisation that's eluded you since that first night you met in college.

maybe -- just maybe -- you're as good an influence on him as he is on you.