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idiopath-fic-smile · 1 year ago

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this one goes out to all my Singin' in the Rain ot3 truthers—

Cosmo Brown had always known it would end like this.

Cosmo was a lot of things—in fact, you could argue he was too many—but he wasn’t dumb.

From the early years, when Cosmo and Don were just kids playing for pennies in pool halls, to their stint dodging rotten vegetables on Vaudeville stages across the very backwaters of America’s backwaters, to their first real breath of success in Hollywood (and then the second and the third and the fourth), Cosmo would catch a glimpse of his handsome, charismatic friend from the corner of his eye—a flash of dark hair, that perfect tooth powder ad smile—and know that for all Don’s protestations, someday the guy was gonna meet a wonderful girl and get married, settle down, and very gently slip off to the far edge of Cosmo’s life.

So yes, Cosmo had seen Kathy Selden coming. Not the details, not her sense of humor or her musical little laugh or the madcap way she really threw herself into dancing with them around Don’s place at 1:30 in the morning—and okay, certainly not the part at the beginning where she had jumped out of a cake at a party, but he thought a fella could be excused for not correctly divining that.

The general outline of the thing, though, how Don’s eyes followed her around a room...he had been preparing for Don to propose to Kathy ever since she’d tried to throw a pie at Don’s face. And when the happy day came, Cosmo had been ready with his best man suit, his best man speech, a slightly updated version of “Here Comes the Bride” that’d had Don and Kathy laughing all the way down the aisle.

Don and Kathy would buy a house together. They would have a swimming pool and a dog and then inevitably, a small parade of adorable little snot-nosed kids who would call him Uncle Cosmo, and they would spend less and less time with him, not on purpose but busy with the rest of their lives, and ultimately Cosmo would learn to make his peace with it because he’d have no other choice and he would have to try to move on and not live too much in his memories. He could picture it so clearly, he figured if the songwriting gig with Monumental didn’t pan out, he could always return to the backwater circuit with a new act: The Amazing Cosmo of the Cosmos—ladies and gentlemen, he sees the future, he reads the stars, he silently pines for his best married pal and all the while tap dancing!

Don and Kathy inviting him along on their honeymoon, though—that part was a surprise.

“What?” said Cosmo, hands frozen over the piano keys. He’d been busy with a brand-new assignment; on the heels of The Dancing Cavalier, offers were pouring in and he’d taken the first one scoring a movie that didn’t star anyone he was secretly in love with.

Don had looked a little wounded when Cosmo broke the news last week, but a guy had to start making his own way in the world. Besides, orchestrating layers of strings to swell as the camera zoomed in on Don and Kathy blissfully locking lips in radiant monochrome, oblivious to the rest of the world—well, Cosmo knew that dance, he had mastered the footwork, and he didn’t especially feel like a reprise.

It wasn’t lost on him that Kathy had dropped by his rehearsal space alone today. Of course, he had no idea what this meant—he didn’t think it was about the new job; Don didn’t tend to stay sore at him for that long—but Kathy was acting perfectly natural, and so probably the smart thing was to follow her lead.

“It’s a two-week transatlantic cruise,” she said now, gracefully dropping beside him on the piano bench. “We thought it would be nice to see Europe, take in the sights, get away from all the cameras.”

“Ah yes, such a wallflower, our dear Don,” said Cosmo solemnly. “Besieged on all sides by the love of his public, a tragedy of our times, up there with Lear! Hamlet! Caesar! The one with all the Greeks and the giant wooden horse, nay, nay, neigh.” He played a tragic little trill, for effect. Kathy huffed a laugh and smacked his arm.

“You know that’s not it,” she said. “Being watched all the time—we can’t always do what we want. It’s rotten.”

Tell me about it, thought Cosmo.

He was sort of seeing a fight choreographer named Archibald, who came from old money and was a “the third” or a “the fifth” but nice enough Cosmo might even forgive him for that. Archibald was trim and athletic, with dark brown hair that was just starting to go gray at the temples and enough discretion that Cosmo didn’t think they’d get caught. The only problem was that he didn’t laugh at Cosmo’s jokes, seemed to just tolerate them.

“What do you two even talk about, then?” Don had asked, when Cosmo had let this slip over drinks the same night he’d explained about the new movie project. (Cosmo had been trying to spend less time with Don and Kathy since the wedding but Don had said, “C’mon, pal, we miss you” and Kathy had laid one hand on his arm and peered up at him with her big green eyes and Cosmo was only one man.)

Cosmo had frowned, because Don hated Archibald, for reasons that were frankly mysterious. Then he’d looked up and grinned a grin he didn’t exactly feel and said,

“Tell you when you’re older,” and then Don had choked on his dry Martini even though Cosmo knew Don knew about Cosmo’s tendencies. It wasn’t something they discussed, and Cosmo had never properly gone with a guy before, but whenever a big-shot producer started complaining about all the degenerate queers in showbiz, Don always sharply steered the conversation someplace else. It was all very gallant and noble and knightly, and someday Don would play King Arthur and Kathy his lady Guinevere—

“Honestly, sometimes it feels as if we’re living in a fishbowl,” said Kathy now, in the present.

“And so your solution is to relocate,” said Cosmo, “to the biggest fishbowl on this here magnificent earth. The mighty ocean!” He struck up a sea shanty. “Oh blow the man down, blow the man down / way ay, blow the man down…”

Not everyone appreciated his musical flights of fancy, but when Cosmo turned, she was leaning with her elbow on the side arm of the piano, watching him with her chin on her hand and laughing.

“Just for two weeks,” she said. “So, are you coming?”

“With you two,” said Cosmo, just so there could be no misunderstandings. “On your one and only honeymoon.”

“Yes,” said Kathy.

“As what, your first mate?”

“Sure.” She grinned and threw him a quick salute. Cosmo was almost never attracted to women but in this case, he understood the appeal.

He swallowed. “You are aware of that ancient saying, ‘Two’s company and three’s a fast track to divorce court’?”

“You’re hardly a threat to our marriage, Cosmo,” she said, and he agreed, of course, in both directions, even, but it still stung to hear her say it out loud. For want of anything better to do, he gasped, clutched a hand to his chest and reeled backwards so hard, he threw himself off the piano bench, landing in a somersault on the floor.

Kathy spun around fluidly on the bench to face him, pleated skirt whirling a little, heels of her shoes clicking together.

“Oh, I said that badly,” she said. “I only mean that it’s more fun when you’re around. We have a better time, Don and me both. Remember the night we decided to make Dueling Cavalier a musical?”

“Do I remember the best night of my life?” Cosmo peered up at her from the hardwood. “Why yes, madam, now that you mention it, I believe it might ring a bell or two.”

“The best—” She frowned for a moment, and he remembered then that as a newly married woman, a newly married woman to Don Lockwood, no less, she’d no doubt experienced any number of evenings that blew that one out of the water.

Even besides that, it felt awfully revealing all of a sudden. Cosmo threw an arm over his eyes. He felt naked. He wished he was naked, because that might at least distract from whatever his face was doing.

“So it beats your time with Archibald, then?” said Kathy shrewdly.

Cosmo uncovered his eyes. He forgot, sometimes, that new as Kathy was to the moving pictures business, she was still a city girl, with a city girl’s worldliness. Also, Don had probably told her; that seemed like the kind of second-hand secrets married people shared with each other. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

“Hardly a topic for mixed company,” he said.

There was a pause.

“So yes,” she said and smiled with a smugness that would’ve been unbecoming were she not as cute as a button.

“What do you and Don have against the poor man anyway?” he groused. “He’s never done so much as sneezed in your direction, and if he did, I’m sure he’d use a handkerchief.”

“For one thing, we know you could do better,” said Kathy, folding her arms.

Cosmo elbowed his way back to sitting, brushing himself off with dignity. “Well, better’s not exactly knocking on my door right now.”

“This town doesn’t have an ounce of sense.” She reached down to offer him a hand up, pulling Cosmo to his feet; she was stronger than she looked. “Listen, two weeks away, it’ll be good for you.”

“What about you two?” Cosmo protested as he reclaimed his spot on the bench, Kathy sliding to make room.

“What about us?” said Kathy with wide eyes.

“Two newlyweds might want some alone time?” he offered weakly.

Kathy shrugged. “I told you, there won’t be reporters or cameras. It’ll be plenty private.”

“What about your matrimonial needs?”

“Which needs?”

His eyes narrowed; she was a terrific actress but suddenly he wasn’t sure he was buying it. Kathy wasn’t dumb either.

“You have to know what I mean. Don’t make me play Cole Porter at you,” said Cosmo. She hesitated, and Cosmo began to pluck out a melody: “Birds do it, bees do it / even educated fleas do it…” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“Let’s do it,” sang Kathy, finishing the stanza in her lovely alto, “let’s fall in love.”

Cosmo stopped playing.

“I do know,” she said simply, “of course I do, and we’re not worried about it, alright? Listen, do you want to go?”

Cosmo, who had been carefully not asking himself that question, stared down at the piano keys. Did he want to go? He thought back to that night at Don’s, the three of them giddy with excitement and inspiration and sleep deprivation, running through the house, clowning around and dancing with no audience except each other—he hadn’t felt like a hanger-on then, like a third wheel or an extra limb or a chaperone. He’d felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be, one note of a perfect chord.

Still.

“I can’t swim,” he said.

“They’ll have lifejackets,” said Kathy.

“I’ll have to work.”

“We’ll bring a piano.”

“All my houseplants will die,” said Cosmo.

“All your houseplants are fake,” she said. This was true, although he wasn’t sure how she knew since she’d never been to his house. She sighed. “Remember the night of that first screening, when you were about to expose Lina and instead of explaining what was happening, Don told me I had to sing, that I didn’t have a choice?”

He winced, thinking of Kathy’s heartbroken, tear-stained face before they’d pulled up the curtain and revealed who was really singing when Lina moved her lips.

“Yes, and I feel just awful about it.”

“Well, Don doesn’t,” said Kathy. “Because he knew it would take too long to convince me to do something that mean to her.”

“Mean?” Cosmo echoed. “She tried to trap you in a lifelong contract and steal your voice. A common sea witch wouldn’t stoop so low.”

“But there wasn’t time,” she pressed. “And anyway, he knew how it would end.”

“What’s your point?”

“We already bought your tickets,” said Kathy.

Cosmo gaped at her.

“We’ve cleared the trip with everyone at Monumental and anyway, like I said, we’ll have a piano on the boat.”

Distantly, he was aware his mouth was still hanging open. Kathy reached over with one light finger under his chin and gently closed it.

“That’s better,” she said, folding her hands daintily in her lap. It was around this time she seemed to realize it wasn’t some routine, that Cosmo really was well and truly stunned. “Of course, nobody is going to force you to go with us if you truly don’t want to,” she said into the silence.

“These tickets,” he said at last, “are they refundable?”

“Gosh,” said Kathy easily, “I can’t imagine they are, no.”

The thing was, none of them were hurting for money or work anymore, so the fact that Don and Kathy might be out even a few hundred dollars didn’t catch at him the way it might’ve some years earlier. No, the thought that really seized his imagination was the mental image of Don and Kathy planning this together, Don and Kathy discussing the matter with each other, maybe over breakfast—toast and coffee in their dressing gowns, so sure it was the right thing to do that they’d decided to just go ahead and make preparations: oh and a ticket for Cosmo, of course.

He could do it, he realized. He could go. He wanted to go. It was foolish, but Cosmo was an entertainer; he’d been doing foolish things in front of a roomful of witnesses since he was in shortpants.

“I’ll pack tonight,” he said.

“Perfect!” Kathy hopped off the bench and straightened out her dress. “And bring something nice to wear at dinner for a night or two; it doesn’t need to be black-tie formal, a good suit will do.”

He nodded. “I shall leave the top hat and monocle at home. Two weeks, you say?”

“Yes, and another half-day on either side flying to the harbor and back.” She reached into her coat pocket, and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. “The itinerary,” she said. “Don and I are so glad you’ll be coming.”

“Uh-huh,” said Cosmo. “Say, where is that fella, anyway? What’s the big idea, can’t even stick around to ask his best pal to his own honeymoon?”

“He’s planning the trip,” said Kathy brightly. “Last-minute details. Anyway, he thought you and I should have a chat, one on one. He thought it might help.”

He blinked. “Help what?”

“Help us,” she said.

It was all starting to feel like a farce, like one of those old Vaudeville acts with a lot of fast talking.

“Did it?” he asked.

“I think so,” said Kathy warmly. She turned and began to walk towards the door. “See you at the airport tomorrow. Six AM sharp.”

“Six AM,” he said, and then, foolishly, “You know, I can see why he likes you.”

Kathy dimpled. “Oh, likewise!” She tossed him another smile and then she was heading out of sight down the hallway, shoes clacking rhythmically on the tile.

“Well,” said Cosmo to no one. He felt pole-axed, he decided. He wasn’t sure he had ever felt pole-axed in his life before, but there was no other word for it.

He played a chord, then another chord, then a few more.

“Pole-axed,” he sang, “out of whack, when you are near there’s only one drawback: I can’t be clever, no I lack the knack, Darling, I’m pole-axed, out of whack around you!”

It wasn’t exactly Cole Porter, but he’d take it, he thought, reaching for his pen. There was still an hour or two left before he’d need to race traffic home and dig out his suitcase. Apparently, he had early morning plans.

(ETA: if you didn't see, there is now a second part here!)

(ETA THE SECOND: the whole finished thing is now here!

#singin in the rain ot3 #i might write more idk but listen like you can probably imagine the rest of it #old-timey polyamorous shenanigans on a boat #pretty straightforward stuff #there's singing there's dancing and somehow don managed to 'accidentally' book cosmo in an adjoining bedroom etc etc

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slowd1ving · 6 months ago

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THIS CHURCH SURE HAS WONDERFUL ACOUSTICS! ✦ . 　⁺ MALLEUS DRACONIA NSFW

“I just miss my friends, I guess,” you admitted, tracing your fingers on the hem of the shirt as you spoke. “I just want to hold someone I know and let my sorrows melt away.” There was a brief pause as Hornton tilted his head slightly in thought. “Holding someone, will it make you happy?” in which a dragon and a human find comfort in each other warnings: amab!reader but no pronouns, nsfw, hurt/comfort, sacrilegious, explicit sex wc: 5.2k

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

Cold night air swirled through the cracked windows of Ramshackle, stifling all hopes you had of a good night’s sleep. You could almost see your breath fogging up in the diabolically cold room; really, were you surprised Crowley hadn’t provided you with adequate insulation? Only Grim’s warmth at the foot of the bed gave you any semblance of heat - alas, it was simply not enough.

My toes are going to freeze off and roll away, you thought mournfully. Shivering, you stared up at the rickety ceiling, as if it would provide any other comfort. Slowly but surely, your thoughts turned away from Crowley’s nasty little shack he gave you to call home, and instead became retrospective.

Homesickness. It wasn’t just that you missed your room back home, and all the little oddities within. Friends. Comfort. You missed the casual touches of friends back home. The bone-crushing hugs you’d give, clinging on for dear life whenever you wanted. Holding hands with friends while hanging out; the skin-to-skin contact reminded you there were others with you.

Why did it have to end?

Sure, you had Ace and Deuce (maybe even Jack?) as your new chums, pals, bosom buddies, etc. It was nice to have friends in this odd place. But you longed for the familiarity that old friends carried; the lack of shared memories and touch with Ace and Deuce made them, quite frankly, mere acquaintances in your eyes.

Hollowness. That was what you felt at that very moment. It was unbearable. There were no tears to be shed, only a deep apathy for your situation. You supposed it wasn’t all that healthy, but it was probably your brain in shock.

What could you really do? Your teeth gnawed on your bottom lip as you shifted out of bed. You weren’t getting any sleepier, so the next best thing was to get some fresh air and maybe even water. Like a plant.

As you ambled downstairs towards the porch, you found your mind wandering to that boy with horns who often appeared by the porch of Ramshackle Dorm, who Grim had nicknamed Hornton. For whatever reason, the boy hadn’t taken offence to the name, though you supposed he did ask you to call him whatever you wished.

At least Grim hadn’t suggested something like Horny McHorn the Horned…

You shook the thought from your mind, mentally gagging. Would Hornton even be here at your porch tonight? A small part of your mind yearned for the comfort of another presence, even if it was someone you had only a handful of encounters with.

Quietly, you unlatched the front door (the poor thing almost keeled over with the slightest nudge) and slipped outside. Only the cold air greeted you; surprisingly, it was warmer out here than in your very bed (maybe it was the ghosts?).

Disappointment wormed its way into your stomach. It was silly. Hornton didn’t have an obligation to be here at all, so why were you feeling this way? You slunk onto the front step and sat down, wrapping your arms around yourself.

At least the cold air was slowly becoming refreshing? Or was this an attempt to gaslight yourself into making the most of this situation?

“Child of man, what has prompted your sadness?” a voice spoke from above, and you almost squeaked in surprise as you looked upwards to see the glowing eyes of Hornton.

“Hornton!” you scrambled to stand up, brushing off the rickety fragments of Ramshackle that no doubt clung to your sleepwear. “I thought you weren’t going to come.”

“I am here now,” Hornton’s patient voice seemed to have a touch of concern for your slightly dishevelled appearance. “Still, you have not answered my question. Would you like to talk about what ails you so?”

You met his eyes. His brows were drawn low in contemplation. It wouldn’t hurt to tell him, right?

“I just miss my friends, I guess,” you admitted, tracing your fingers on the hem of the shirt as you spoke. “I just want to hold someone I know and let my sorrows melt away.”

There was a brief pause as Hornton tilted his head slightly in thought.

“Holding someone, will it make you happy?”

“Yeah, it just reminds me I’m not alone?” the end of your sentence curled up into a question when you furrowed your brows trying to think of a good answer.

“Then-” Hornton took a step closer to you, gazing at your face. “-may I do the honours?”

Your eyes widened involuntarily. You hadn’t thought he’d actually volunteer to hug you, but it was a very pleasant surprise.

“Yes, please,” your voice came out a lot softer than you had hoped. He held out his arms (quite awkwardly, you had to admit). Your arms enveloped his upper torso, and your head fitted right into the crook of his neck.

You could feel his hands, almost fluttering with the amount of care he held within them.

“You can put them anywhere on my back,” you murmured with your eyes closed. A smile wriggled its way onto your face when you felt a light pressure on your scapula and upper spine. In response, you put more pressure into your hug, letting your strength create a comforting weight upon Hornton.

You felt him sharply intake air with the added pressure, before softening into your grasp. Sharp claws brushed over your back as he curled his hands slightly inwards to grip onto the back of your shirt.

He wasn’t cold, exactly, but he was pleasantly cool to the touch. Your body, pressed against his, could feel the rhythmic thump of his heart. Slow and steady. As you slowly breathed in, you could smell on him woodsmoke and what smelled like the wind during rainy autumn days.

Your hands slowly worked their way upwards before they settled higher on his spine, where his hair cascaded over your hands like an obsidian waterfall. You pressed even tighter against him, but not overwhelmingly so - whatever homesickness you had earlier slowly ebbed away.

Slowly, you began to pull away to take a breather. Hornton loosened his grip on your shirt and furrowed his brow at you before speaking.

“That was… nice,” Hornton stated. A rosy hue painted the tips of his pointed ears.

“Can I be selfish and request another hug?” Hornton continued, his eyes crinkling as he smiled down at you tentatively.

“Yeah, you’re really good at this,” you smiled back at him encouragingly, breath caught in your throat as he let out a little laugh. Burying the feeling, you pressed back into his body, allowing yourself to collect your thoughts before holding him tighter.

Who the hell allowed him to be so goddamn beautiful? You felt your pulse rise to an allegro. To make matters worse, Hornton wrapped his arms around you in a very similar manner that you employed when hugging. Such close proximity felt as though the two of you were becoming one.

Your heart almost jumped into your throat as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. You could feel his breath fanning out onto your collarbone. Gleaming onyx horns jutted out past your shoulder; really, every part of Hornton was perfectly polished.

His claws brushed against your back once again as he held you closer. An inkling of understanding trickled through your brain; he was also desperate to be held. Tentatively, one of your hands left its post at his spine and carefully made its way to the nape of his neck. You cradled the back of his neck, running your fingers through the hair on his scalp.

His breathing rapidly quickened against your collarbone, and you felt his pulse sync up to your own, the staccato beats assuring you in continuing your ministrations.

How long had it been since he had been held? From the snippets of conversations that had been about him, you had gathered that he was generally feared by the student populace and distanced from the outside world; it was definitely a possibility that he was touch-deprived, especially if he was someone in a position of high power or responsibility.

In response to your own contemplation, you simply locked your arms around him, making sure the pressure around him wasn’t going to be unpleasant, but rather like a weighted blanket. You felt him relax even more into the hug, and you mentally patted yourself on the back.

“Child of man..” his voice brushed against your throat, and you felt your face heat up. Surely he felt your pulse spike upwards? You stifled your shiver and looked down upon him. Piercing green eyes focused on you as you nervously swallowed.

“Yeah?” Whatever hopes of sounding composed were dashed as your voice almost warbled. At best, it was just shaky.

“Thank you,” Hornton’s voice reverberated with pure sincerity against your sternum. He was going to be the death of you, you thought. You took it as a cue to slowly disentangle your arms from around him as his head slowly raised.

“Can I..” his voice was laced through with hesitation as his eyes searched your face for an answer, even before he finished his question. Heavy heartbeats resounded through your entire body as you waited for him to finish.

“Can I kiss you?” Pause. Blood rushed through your entire organism. You could almost count the number of capillaries extending through your body as you suddenly rushed into a state of transcendent awareness. Goddamn. You couldn’t think straight, especially since he was still holding on to you.

“It’s alright if-” his voice was cut off when your fingers curled around his striped tie (really, why was he still in uniform?!) and pulled him closer. Your other hand gently made its way to his chin to guide him to you.

You heard his breath stutter as your lips brushed over his. Distantly, you were aware of his hands choosing to cradle the back of your head. He really was adorable; you smiled into the kiss ever so slightly as you deepened it, feeling him stiffen marginally.

Hesitation was clearly present in his kiss as you guided him through it. Your pace was languorous to allow him to adjust, especially when you opened your mouth. Sharp fangs brushed over your tongue as he opened his own mouth for you. Good.

Your eyes squinted open slightly in shock when you felt his forked tongue. Holy shit. He clearly felt your surprise, since his grip on the back of your head suddenly became more solid and his movements a lot more confident. Seemed like he had adjusted. Your hand trailed from his tie and settled on his waist, pulling him towards you while simultaneously pressing yourself towards him so he’d step backwards. His back pressed against the sturdy beam of the porch, and you could feel surprise radiating at your boldness.

“Mmph-” you saw his eyes flutter open when he gasped slightly at the impact. Once again, you could feel the corners of your lips tugging upwards into a smile, and he felt it too, since you could feel his eyes burning into you.

You pulled back to take a breather, watching a string of saliva connect the two of you. He was enraptured with it, with his cool lips slightly parted in what could probably be described as awe as he watched the thread bridging the distance.

His eyes flickered back to yours, watching for any sign of discomfort. When he found none, he tilted his head slightly. A question. You leaned in, sealing your answer. But instead of his mouth, you tilted his head sideways and pressed a kiss to his neck, loosening his tie to allow for a canvas for you.

“What-” his question was cut off by an exhale of breath that was suspiciously close to a moan when you lightly bit his pulse point, sucking on it to leave a bruising mark. “Keep- keep going.”

You were going to do just that. A burning trail of marks made their way from right under his ear to his collarbone, accompanied by his slightly strangled breathing. Your knee found its way between his legs, almost subconsciously, but it didn’t pull away as he sank down onto it slightly. Goodness, he really was eager.

Then again, so were you. Your body pressed further into his to hear his irregular breathing. Your mouth continued its feverish ministrations. All to further fluster him. The smugness almost creeped out of your pores with how satisfied you were feeling at that moment.

You could almost feel him slightly moving against your thigh, desperate for any sort of friction. Pulling back, you gazed at him with a shit-eating grin (one that was quickly stifled). His eyes were half-lidded with a sultry gaze, lips glazed over with spit.

“Do you want to continue this?” you asked him seriously. When he nodded, eyes still slightly hazed over, you frowned slightly, leaning in closer.

“Use your words, pretty boy,” you commanded, tilting your head. His eyes met yours, the sharp green gaze slightly softening.

“Please, I want to continue,” he said with a touch of desperation. His eyes flickered between your heavy gaze and your slightly swollen lips. You felt that shit eating grin almost rise again within you at this powerful being reduced to such a state.

“Do you have anywhere we can go?” you inquired, gesturing to the rickety building behind you. No doubt it would probably collapse with any sort of frisky activity.

“Yes, actually,” with that, Hornton pulled you close to him and a cloud of warm fireflies obscured your vision. You couldn’t see much, only his comforting presence pressed against you.

“Call me Malleus,” his voice brushed against your ear as the two of you were carried off to who knows where.You could almost hear his smile as you shivered slightly. “I would like to hear my name out of your mouth when you cry it out.”

You almost felt your jaw drop with his audacity. Strangely, that name was really familiar. Malleus. Malleus? That Malleus? Your brow furrowed, making connections between the rumours of the terrifying Diasomnia housewarden and the boy with horns next to you. Ah. You had just wrapped potentially the most powerful mage in this school around your pinkie finger.

Still, it was bold of him to assume he wouldn’t be the one crying out. The fireflies slowly began to fade out, and you braced yourself for wherever Malleus had taken you.

Hold on.

Was this a cathedral? Your eyes surveyed the abandoned building. Under the watchful eye of the moon, shimmering stained glass patterns cast themselves onto the stone and marble friezes. Some of the roof was missing, leaving dust motes to swim around languidly in the harsh streams of moonlight.

The altar before you was covered in a pristine white cloth, unmarked by blemishes. Beside it was a vase of freshly cut lilies. Who could’ve-

“I come here to think,” Malleus admitted to you sheepishly. He looked around the building with you. “I’ve been trying to tidy it up a bit, but it’s secluded enough that it can wait. The acoustics here are wonderful.”

You weren’t even surprised. Although, sex in an abandoned cathedral was a first.

“How sacrilegious!” your eyes widened with mock-incredulity. You didn’t give a shit, in all actuality. Carnal desire began to pump within your veins. You grabbed his arm and pulled him to the altar, smoothing the edge of the cloth against what could only be stone.

“Allow me,” Malleus pressed a chaste kiss to the edge of your mouth before lifting you up onto the cloth. You stared down at him, slightly amused by his boldness. What could he be planning? Your questions were answered as he gestured to your pants inquiringly. Was he going to suck you off?

With deft hands, Malleus undid the ties that held the pants to your hips, before tugging them off and letting them pool on the stone steps beside the vase of lilies. You watched in surprise as he ravenously stared down your boxers.

“Eager, aren’t we?” you crooned, feeling the pressure on your thighs tighten as he gripped them. Your words didn’t seem to register as he swallowed audibly. The piercing thralls of desire suddenly consumed you; wordlessly, you hooked a thumb around the waistband and pulled them down, hissing as the cool night air hit the skin of your dick.

You watched him observe your movements with the gaze of a predator, lustfully looking at your exposed skin. This time it was your turn to swallow audibly as he bent down between your legs and pressed a cool kiss to the soft skin on the inner thighs. His flickering green eyes held your gaze and you felt your face heat up as he smiled.

You leaned back, pressing your palms flat against the altar to attempt to quell your lust. His eyes never left your face as he kissed the base of your dick. You fought the urge to bury your face in your hands when he thumbed the slit, spreading the precum along the head, eliciting a small gasp from you. Malleus’ fangs flashed at you as he opened his mouth to suckle the top of your dick.

“Fuck,” you groaned, shifting onto one palm as the other buried itself in his hair. You could feel a low rumble in his throat at the action, which in turn stimulated you further. He began licking in earnest; you thanked whatever ancestor it was that gave him that heavenly forked tongue. Malleus looked divine like this, with the pale impressions of the stained glass upon his body.

Without warning, he took you in his mouth. The sensation of the cool saliva enveloping your dick was almost enough to make you scream, and you grabbed onto one of his horns without thinking. The action made Malleus stiffen, before a deep groan emerged from his throat.

“Good boy,” you praised him as he took you deeper, thumbing the ridges of his horn. So. They really were sensitive, you duly noted. Your gentle ministrations along the edges of his horn, coupled with your praises, almost gave him heart arrhythmia with how fast his heart was beating. And he knew you could feel his pulse through your thighs, with the way you smiled at him with that look in your eyes.

He quickened his pace with his mouth, wanting to hear more of those gasps and praises from you. You matched his tempo with his horns, grinning as you felt more vibrations of his groans on his dick. Could you make him come from just this? Your second hand raised from the altar to set on his other horn, mirroring your actions. His eyes squeezed shut with the pleasure, and you could feel more saliva than usual.

“Fuck, Malleus,” you groaned when he took you all the way down. His name on your tongue sounded absolutely divine echoing within the cathedral, and his dick throbbed within the confines of his uniform pants.

“I’m going to-” you cried out when he hollowed out his cheeks, feeling so absolutely tight. You saw white as you came in his mouth, and felt him swallow as best as he could. Fuck. He felt unbelievably good.

The taste of you on his tongue caused Malleus’ mind to go haywire as you kept stroking his horns. He felt his own climax fast approaching; desperately, he squeezed his thighs together for any semblance of friction.

“You did so good, Malleus,” your thumb wiped up some of the fluid leaking from the corner of his mouth, driving him over the edge. He released into his pants, feeling the fabric soil.

Malleus let out a strangulated moan as your dick left his mouth, and you blinked. Once. Twice. Surely he hadn’t.. You gazed down at the wet spot slowly spreading across his pants and grinned. Seems your earlier question had been answered.

“Did you come untouched? What a desperate little slut,” you cooed, lifting his face to yours by grabbing his chin with your hand. At your words, for some inexplicable reason, Malleus felt his dick twitch once again.

You pressed your lips to his, tasting the salt on his tongue as he eagerly opened his mouth once again. You left him chasing after you as you hopped off the altar, grabbing his hips to prevent him grinding against you to relieve that need for friction.

“In all due time,” you murmured, pressing a quick kiss to the marks you made on his collarbones earlier. Malleus’ eyes followed your motions as you tugged off his blazer and unbuttoned his pants. You could feel the tension as you ran your fingers across his poised abdomen.

In one swift motion, you tugged down his pants, exposing his skin. Yippee. Your eyes traced his figure, noticing his gaze lingering on your hands.

“Do you want me to continue?” you asked, enunciating every word. His eyes snapped back to yours.

“Please, touch me,” he begged you. Something about his desperation lit a fire within you. Who were you to deny his wish?

“Open,” you gestured to his mouth. With a quizzical look, he complied, allowing you to place two fingers in his mouth.

“Coat them,” you grinned as he obediently sucked on your fingers. Oh, you were going to enjoy ruining him. You took your fingers out of his mouth, turning him around to face the altar using his hips.

“Bend over,” you instructed, guiding his hands with your free hand to rest on the altar. He’d most likely need the support. Malleus complied with your request, upper body tense.

“Relax, I won’t bite,” you deftly pulled down his boxers, hearing him hiss at the frigid air. You traced circles on his ass with your dry hand, before using your spit-covered fingers to tease at his entrance. “Unless you want me to.”

You heard him gasp as your fingers slid into his tight hole. The ring of muscle didn’t offer much resistance as you allowed him to grow accustomed to the feeling. A grin wormed its way onto your face as you saw the sheen of sweat on his brow. You didn’t even know fae could sweat.

Before you could ask him if he was adjusted, you felt his hips try to rock on your fingers. That wouldn’t do.

“Ah-ah,” you tutted, grabbing his hips with your free hand. “Not so fast.”

Your fingers moved agonisingly slowly inside of him, rhythmically pumping in and out so as to not allow him to release too quickly. With an absolutely devilish grin, you located that sweet spot of spongy nerves inside him, pressing it with enough pressure for him to moan uncontrollably until the very rafters of the cathedral echoed the sound back.

You didn’t allow him to climax though, pulling away everytime he was close. The sight of him, panting beneath your careful touches, made you unbelievably horny. His expression was one of desperation when he looked back at you.

“Please, fill me,” Malleus gasped out as he was once again denied release. Who were you to deny that cute face? You slipped your fingers out completely, hearing him whine at the loss. You grabbed his chin and worked at the buttons on his shirt while kissing him feverishly. Once his shirt was open, you loosened his tie completely before pulling away. You swiftly slipped your own shirt off your body, allowing Malleus to drink in the sight of your bare upper body.

“Get up onto the altar,” you breathed into his ear, feeling your self-control on the verge of snapping as he shivered from the warm air. He easily climbed onto the spacious expanse of the stone slab, with you following. Using your hand to press him down until he leaned back onto his back, you grabbed his tie. You deftly pinned his wrists above his head, tying them firmly but not reducing any of his circulation.

“What are you-” Malleus’ question was interrupted by your sweet kiss to the side of his mouth.

“Let me take care of you,” your voice was hushed as you trailed kisses across his chest, using your fingers to play with his nipples. He let out a strangled moan at the new stimulation, driving him closer and closer to the brink. Before he could use it to get off, you pulled away with that teasing smile. Damn you.

Your eyes never left his as you leaned in above him, and all he could do was shut his eyes as he felt your dick rub against his. The friction was unbearably agonising; every time he tried to buck his hips upwards, you’d laugh and push his hips back down, before kissing his chest once again.

With a final kiss, you slipped the tie off his wrists. Malleus was left blinking at this sudden change in attitude, before you entered inside of him and he swore he saw stars. His back arched at the intrusion and you greedily drank in the sight. His unrestrained moans were like a heavenly choir to your ears. He was right, the acoustics were unparalleled here.

Transfixed, you gazed at your dick entering him again and again. The sound of skin on skin, of his moans and of the wet sloshing sounds was growing too much to handle. Your eyes half-closed in the pure bliss you were beginning to approach.

Malleus’ mouth was half-open with pleasure, his mouth leaking drool. His eyes were glassy with pleasure, and you knew his time was fast approaching. Your hands deftly angled his hips so your dick would slam into his prostate dead on. With the first collision, his back arched and hole tightened around you.

White ropes of cum shot from his dick, splattering torso and your abdomen. Malleus let out a string of broken moans as he climaxed, the overstimulation from your constant well-timed thrusts causing tears to leave his eyes.

“Just a few moments longer, Malleus,” you leaned over him, supporting yourself on your forearms. His hole fluttering around your dick was slowly driving you to your climax, and that long awaited heaven was going to arrive very soon.

“Please- please don’t stop,” Malleus sobbed out, his claws scraping down your back. The pain made you hiss, but you were interrupted by the wave of pleasure soon after.

“Do you want me to come inside you?” you groaned out next to his ear. “Do you want me to breed you?”

“Please,” Malleus babbled, calling out your name; your vulgar language made his dick stiffen once again. You could feel him beneath you, and your hazy mind registered this with a great deal of surprise. Maybe fae refractory periods were a lot shorter? Regardless, this was something you could definitely work with.

The obscene sounds below you were doing a number on you. Your mind creeped towards that blissful, all-consuming state.

“Please come in me,” Malleus’ words, coupled with your name being moaned out, drove you over the edge. Your mind hazed over as his insides were splattered white. The sensation of your warm fluids inside him drove him to his own climax, and he bit down onto your shoulder.

The sharp tang of your blood and the salt of your sweat made his dick twitch, before releasing more ropes of cum. His moans were mixed with incoherent babbling and praises, which only added to your blissful state. You were only distantly aware of the throbbing pain in your shoulder, which also quickly gave way to an overwhelming pleasure.

Your hips came to a slow stop. Malleus’ hands grasped the nape of your neck and he pulled you in for a heated, sloppy kiss, still rocking his hips on your overstimulated dick, milking you for all you were worth.

“Fuck, Malleus,” you moaned into his mouth as he greedily kept the friction going. Your mind felt as if it were about to break from the pleasure, though you could last a while longer if he still wanted to keep going. You moved your mouth to his horns, licking a strip at the base using the flat of your tongue while he kept rolling his hips.

The obscene moans he was releasing echoed around the stone ruins. You feverishly worked to absolutely reduce him to a mess as you suckled on one of his horns and used your hand to pump up and down for the other one.

You could feel his back arch and his hips stutter to a halt as he came for the fourth and final time. Hot rivulets of cum streamed from his abdomen and pelvis, and down your legs. He wore an absolutely fucked-out expression, with tears streaming from his eyes, swollen lips, and flushed cheeks. His normally sleek hair stuck to his face, strands coated in sweat. You noticed the dried blood, most likely your own, remaining on his fangs as his mouth was parted.

You were sure your expression was also one of fucked-out bliss. You didn’t want to pull out just yet, so you admired his beautiful face as he slowly opened his eyes.

“You were so good for me,” you murmured, using a finger to trace patterns around his nipples and chest. He gently grasped your wrist with a shaky hand and pressed a little kiss to your inner wrist.

“I’m going to pull out,” you whispered to him, rocking back. The friction caused Malleus to let out another moan, and you wished for nothing more than to hear his sounds forever.

Agonisingly slow. That’s the pace in which you moved your hips outward, so you could observe the cum gush out of him. You could only hear heavy panting and breathy moans leave Malleus as your dick slowly exited.

You looked on in ecstasy as you finally exited him completely and a thick, steady stream of cum left his hole. Malleus whined at the loss of your dick filling him up. Almost involuntarily, your fingers scooped up some of the mingling fluids, his and yours, and held them out to his mouth. You almost moaned with how eagerly he lapped up the juices off your fingers.

You slowly made your way off the altar, wincing at the rush of cold air against your bare skin. Picking up the discarded clothes, you were transfixed by the sight of Malleus gazing at you ever so tenderly.

“You were beautiful,” Malleus reached out for your hand, shivering as you took it. Wordlessly, you kissed each of his fingers, then the back of his hand, with his eyes on you the whole time. You could say the same about him, with his pale skin dappled with the radiance of the stained glass, glossed with the sheen of sweat.

“Let’s get cleaned up, shall we?” you helped him sit up and slide down the altar, mourning the soiled altar cloth. A flurry of fireflies is all that remained in the ruins of the cathedral, and even then, they slowly winked out of sight.

The bath at Diasomnia was already drawn for the two of you. How Malleus managed it was beyond you, though it was probably his magic. Regardless, it was a relatively straightforward clean-up.

Tomorrow, when he goes to his lessons, he’ll walk with a slight limp. No one will be any the wiser, save those who notice his carefully ironed collar conceals odd bruising marks.

#malleus draconia #malleus x reader #twst #twst x reader #male reader #gn reader #twst x male reader #amab reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #res ･ﾟ writing

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the-cosmic-teapot · 4 months ago

Text

To Be Loved By Nanami Kento

Nanami x reader

WC: 10,705

TW: Slight age gap (4 years), Canon-compliant, fluff, angst, canon-typical gore, big emotions, Nanami is such a gentleman, drinking, reader gets very drunk (Shoko), kinda steamy but no smut, marriage, family, Not a happy ending (ANGST!!!)

*Not proofread (my husband said his word limit is 5,000)

Summary: The story of how you and Nanami fall in love.

A/N: Hi pals, it's been a minute (like a couple months, oops)! This has been in the works for the majority of that time, but I couldn't bring myself to finish it until now. Let me know if you all like the longer fics or if I should break them up into parts instead. Also, I am looking for more proofreaders, if you are interested message me. As always, feedback is welcome!

P.S- The reader has a cursed technique that is using electrical energy and the gloves are what is used to conduct the energy.

~Cosmic

June 2012

High school graduates are left with difficult decisions to make upon the end of their education. Differing from a typical student, graduating from Jujutsu High in Tokyo meant alternate career options; choosing to become a sorcerer, or leaving the world of Jujutsu for a mundane job. As you pack up your home of the past three years, you ponder this quandary as boxes of memories are put away one by one. On one hand, you were trained alongside some of the best sorcerers in generations, and, if we’re being honest, you’re one of them. Now on the other lives a normal life, and a normal job. One where you don’t face nearly as high a mortality rate. You could find love, have a normal family, and you could live in ignorance of your fellow sorcerers’ sacrifices.

Moving out of the dorms at Jujutsu High was bittersweet, you have a lot of memories with your friends, and even a sparse few with Gojo– as annoying as he can be. You found a nice apartment right outside of the business district in Tokyo and you were even up to get promoted to a grade one sorcerer. Things are looking up for you and your new independent life.

Before you were able to fully get the rank of grade one sorcerer you needed to do a few missions with current grade one sorcerers, which is now what you were being sent to do. Usually, you worked with Mei Mei because your personalities meshed well, unlike your fighting styles, but this time was different. Before you stood a tall, well-built man with blonde hair in a suit. The tan suit was a bit plain, but his bright blue button-down and patterned tie really stands out. Ijichi explained what grade-one curse this man and you needed to eradicate in an abandoned nursing home in Osaka. The man, Nanami, is to pick you up at the crack of dawn to catch a flight as opposed to driving through the night to get there.

As you packed a small bag with a few necessities– the return flight was the following afternoon– you wondered why it took so long to meet Nanami. By the end of your second year, you had met most all of the grade one sorcerers from one gathering or another, but not Nanami. You had a few options now, you could look him up on social media or ask Gojo about the very muscular man. You decided on the former because Gojo would endlessly tease you for asking, plus you could stalk him online from the comfort of your bed. From your extensive research, you learned that there was not a trace of Nanami online other than a post from Gojo a year ago that tagged a deactivated account. Now you either have to ask Gojo or the even more embarrassing option of trying to make small talk with Nanami tomorrow. You were at a loss, was teasing from Gojo worth learning more about the undeniably attractive man? Nanami seems the type to not talk much, so small talk may not even tell you more about him.

Your phone dings as the latest episode of a trashy show’s credits roll. You didn’t have the number saved, but you could quickly tell it was Nanami because of the overly formal language and punctuation of the message. He asked about where he should pick you up and if you wanted him to grab coffee before getting you. As you respond you also internally scream as this man keeps getting more attractive and you’ve met him once. Is it weird to be this attracted to a man you’ve just met? You suppose it doesn’t matter much, it was just a superficial attraction at best now.

The following morning you wake up and get ready as usual, skincare, a little makeup, and finally getting dressed. You grab the overnight bag and your backpack for the trip there and head down to the lobby to wait for Nanami. After doing one final look over to make sure you weren't forgetting anything you finally leave and lock up your apartment. When you get to the lobby Nanami is already there holding his phone, probably about to call you.

“Ah, good. You’re punctual, do you have all of your equipment ready to go?” You give a quick nod knowing you placed your sleek black gloves in the front pouch of your backpack. “Good, let’s go then,” Nanami said. He was in another suit, not a hair out of place. Without another word, he took the overnight bag and began to walk out to his car.

He placed your stuff in the trunk of the modern black car and got the passenger side door for you. God, he truly is a gentleman. The interior of his car is clean and smells like a new car scent. You noticed a pastry on the middle console and two coffees in the cup holder after getting comfy for the quick trip to the airport.

“I got you a strawberry Danish, as well as the coffee, I hope you like it,” Nanami says as he buckles in and starts the car. He adjusts his glasses, and checks before backing out of the 20-minute parking spot.

“Actually, I’m allergic to strawberries… but thank you for the coffee and thinking of me!” You said with an awkward, tight-lipped smile, feeling bad that he wasted his money on you. “Oh, I’m sorry,” Nanami spoke. “I’ll keep that in mind next time” You give him a small ‘hump’ as acknowledgement.

The drive to the airport is quick, the bright lights of Tokyo pass by in a blur together in a rainbow of color. You wonder what this mission will entail, this was a grade-one curse, so Nanami could handle this alone if needed; theoretically, you should be able to do the same. Being this close to Nanami was strange, it felt almost intimate in the dark morning. You could smell the cologne he was wearing and the heat coming off of his body. He smelled amazing, woody and smokey, with notes of whisky.

Soon enough you notice Nanami pulling into a parking garage and getting a ticket and finding a parking space. Getting out you go to grab your overnight bag but Nanami already has it in hand with his.

“I can get my bag if you want.” You said quickly. “You really don’t need to.” You say to the back of the tall man as he walks away.

“It’s fine, it’s not heavy.” He said plainly, walking towards the walkway to the check-in desks. His steps are quick and driven by efficiency. You could tell he will be much more professional than Mei Mei, and way harder to get a read on.

As the plane lands you listen to the flight attendant about the typical unloading procedures, you worry about the mission and whether you will make a fool out of yourself in front of a grade-one sorcerer, especially one as attractive as Nanami. You remember this feeling when working with Mei Mei for the first time too. After you get your backpack from the floor you reach into the overhead compartment for your other bag but Nanami already has it in hand.

“I told you I’ve got your bag, '' Nanami says, bending down to get his bag on the floor. You shivered at the thought of him being so close to you.

“Okay, if you really don’t mind,” you say blushing slightly, moving to get off of the plane trailing after Nanami.

When you leave the airport the sun is shining and there is a small breeze. It ruffles Nanami’s hair making him look even more divine than he already does. He hails a cab to go to the hotel so you can check in and go over what intel you have on the cursed spirit. The cab ride was uneventful at best, but your anxiety was through the roof. You could feel your heartbeat in your throat and the sweat covering your palms.

You zone out sitting on one of the chairs with your and Nanami’s things while he checks into your rooms. Suddenly, he appears in front of you with a disgruntled look across his sharp, perfect features. He explains that the hotel screwed up and only has one room (and one bed) available at the moment, he runs a hand through his pristine hair and sighs.

“We can look for other hotels in the area if you are uncomfortable sharing a room, or I can sleep on the couch,” Nanami says in his usual tone. “The woman at the desk said that the former may be unlikely because there are a few conventions in town.” He runs a hand through his hair again, staring down at you through his glasses.

“I don’t mind staying here, but I can take the couch.” You say it is not fair that he has already done so much for you. “I can sleep almost anywhere.” You say, which was a little lie, but it’s one night. Plus, you are considerably smaller than Nanami, he towers over you and he is broader than you because of the bulk of his muscles.

“We can talk about sleeping arrangements when we get settled tonight.” He says after a moment of silence. Nanami walks away back to the desk and finishes checking in.

He comes back with two keys in hand and moves to get your bags. You look up at him and take the cards so he has his hands free for the bags. The walk to the room was silent, as was moving around to get settled into the nice room. There is a sort of living room then a small hallway with the bathroom on one side and a closet on the other and finally, the bedroom section was at the back. The bed is massive, most likely a king, and there is a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows facing the foot of the bed. You stand at the window taking in the view of the city and ponder how this mission will go. Taking a few deep breaths to calm your nerves you move back to the living room area with Nanami sitting on a comically small couch.

“So, the nursing home isn’t far from here, we can walk there,” Nanami said, looking at the packet with all of the information gathered for this mission. He moved over and motioned for you to join him on the couch. As you sit next to him you realize how small the couch really is, it’s more of an oversized armchair. “The curse shouldn’t take too long to exercise, but there are bound to be more, lower grade curses.” He adjusts his glasses and hands the packet to you as he moves to get up.

You look over the packet and see that the building has been abandoned for a few years after the owners were convicted of selling deceased residents organs without the families’ knowledge or approval. The building has recently been the site of the disappearance of teens, which has made more teens want to break in and do whatever teens do when they break into buildings. The local police have put locks on the doors and tape up to discourage more teens from entering, but this did little to dissuade them. This is why Nanami and you were called here, the 10 missing teens were concerning and the confirmed presence of a curse made this case a top priority for the higher-ups in Jujutsu society.

Nanami lowered the veil over the condemned building and you slipped your gloves on, as you both took in the large structure. It was at least three stories high and there was mention of a basement for laundry from the packet. The smell of mold and mildew hit you in the face as soon as Nanami opened the door. There was graffiti all over the place and vines and weeds sprouting up from the cracked concrete and broken windows.

You mention splitting up to make the search go quicker, Nanami told you to focus on looking for the missing kids while he looks for the grade one curse. Of course, this is not how the mission goes, you run into a horde of grade three and lower curses in the basement hallway. As you fight them off you begin to hear the sobs of a few girls. You make your way to a locked door where you very clearly hear crying, knocking on it, and saying you were here to help. When the door opens about five girls no older than fifteen are trembling and latching on to you for dear life.

You introduce yourself to them and tell them that your partner and you will try your best to get them out safely. They all mention seeing some of the others they were with being dragged away but not killed in front of them. You shoot a text to Nanami about the girls you found and begin to lead the shaking, but not crying, girls out of the basement and to the outside of the building. Nanami joins you a few minutes after getting the girls out and mentions how you did well.

Going back into the buildings after talking to the girls a bit more to gather more information about the groups they came from. After another hour of searching you find the bodies of three of the boys, all drained of blood leaned up against a wall on the ground floor. It was shocking to see that a curse did not mutilate the young boys. You move on to the next floor where you run into Nanami and he mentions finding two boys on the verge of death that he brought outside and tended to their wounds.

Wandering around a bit more you finally come across the grade one curse, its cursed energy was intense. The spirit looks like its melting bodies together, one pile of flesh with multiple eyes and appendages. The largest of their eyes is brown and vertical in the center of the mass and quickly takes notice of Nanami and you and begins to attack, flailing arms and legs towards you and Nanami. You were first to strike the curse with a zap of your cursed technique directly to the center eye. Nanami, quick to follow, slashed a few limbs off with his blunt sword. Flowing through the motions of a fight, zaps, a few punches, and maybe a kick to the curse was the easy part. The more difficult part was knowing if you were doing enough to impress Nanami or at least not look like a complete idiot in front of him. With a final right hook into the curse imbued with your technique, the curse jolted back and collapsed into a disintegrating heap on the dirty floor.

“Good, you did well,” Nanami says calmly while swiftly dispelling the blood from his blade in a singular smooth motion.

The walk back to the hotel is significantly less awkward for you mostly because you were actually talking now, and not weird small talk. This was an actual conversation, about what you enjoy, what books you like, and so forth. You had a lot in common with the stoic man, you both enjoyed cooking and reading, much preferred over going out. You were beginning to toe the line between a schoolgirl crush based on superficial attraction into a full-blown crush, born from knowing his brain. There are a few outcomes, all but one of which will fragment your heart into millions of pieces. This is dangerous territory you are beginning to tread.

Back at the hotel you shower and take time to get the sweat and blood off of you. The hot shower felt like heaven on your sore muscles and the steam began to fog the mirror. You wash your hair with your shampoo and conditioner while you think about the day. The thoughts quickly drift from the nursing home and the teenagers you saved to the dashing man sitting outside. He is hard to not fall for, he’s charming and his looks could rival that of a man sculpted by the gods. In addition to his stunning looks his personality seems to be a perfect fit for your own. The list of Nanami’s attributes just seems to grow with the amount of time you spend with him.

Meanwhile, the blonde man sitting outside on the couch begins working on the report for the case. He begins recounting the day’s events, typing it all out in the correct format. All of the events from what was known to the final death count of the curse. Once again, Nanami’s life became mundane; getting sent on missions, exercising the cursed spirit, typing up a report, and repeating. When he got off of work he would make dinner, maybe try a new wine, most nights were the same for him. Being sent away from Tokyo was a nice change, but not much of one, now he would just have dinner out. However, now there was someone else with him. Someone who he wants to get to know, someone who he can see as a friend.

He has thought of dating, but with his re-entrance into the world of Jujutsu that will be difficult. There is no way for him to have a “normal” life when he faces death every day. He cannot put someone he loves in a position to mourn him, he has been down this road before and it hurts. Honestly, part of the reason Nanami left after graduation was because he didn’t want to see more of his colleagues fall; moreover, he did not want to see his juniors fall even more so. Despite this, he found himself back in the world of Jujutsu; sitting here with you in the shower.

When Nanami was told he would be paired with a semi-grade one sorcerer he thought the person would look more intimidating, not the small, cute form he met the day prior. He was pleasantly surprised this morning when you were right on time when he came to pick you up. In the car, he could smell your hair products– vanilla and jasmine– as well as notice how you anxiously fidget with your hands. You were efficient in the airport, which he admired very much, as opposed to Gojo, who would stroll in an hour before his flight with little care about missing it entirely.

Nanami finishes the report and he hears you step out of the shower. He stands, stretches, and then heads for his bag to gather his clothes to get ready to shower. As he makes sure he has grabbed all of his necessities– underwear, pants, and a top– his phone dings. Sitting back on the bed with his stuff sitting neatly on the dresser he reads a text from Gojo asking about how you both were getting along. Nanami opted to send a short, nondescript text on how you performed today.

When you finally leave the warm, steamy bathroom you see Nanami sitting on the bed tapping away at his phone, presumably texting. You move your stuff into your bag as your stomach growls very loudly. In your squatting position, you make eye contact with Nanami who now has his clothing in hand to shower and clean up for dinner.

“I’m going to excuse myself, I’d suggest looking up where you want to eat,” Nanami says standing to his full height, making you feel smaller as he has to tilt his head further down as he does.

“Okay, I can do that,” you say, zipping up your bag and grabbing socks and your bag with your wallet and other necessities to go out.

As Nanami stepped into the still-warm and steamy bathroom he could smell your lotion and perfume. Everything smelled like you, even the other towels that are folded under the sink; it’s a smell that is just as intoxicating as the most expensive bottle of wine he’s sampled. He peeled his blue shirt off his body and began the shower, the hot water and steam fogging up the mirror again. Slipping out of his trousers and underwear he steps into the shower with a sigh. He could smell you even more in the shower, the hot steam lifting the remnants of your hair products to his nose directly.

Nanami thought about the day and Gojo’s text. As with most things, Gojo most likely had another intention than the one Nanami initially interpreted. Nanami could not let himself wonder what it would be like to pursue you in any capacity other than friendship; not even for a moment. There is no denying you are attractive and he could tell that you shared a lot of his interests. He pushes these thoughts of what can never be out of his mind so he can finish his shower and get to dinner.

You go with a small sushi place with good reviews online and Nanami truly did not mind you picking. Initially, you had given him three options and he was indifferent to all of them. This was new to you because when you went with Gojo he would insist on going to his pick, given he always paid so you had no qualms.

Walking alongside Nanami was strange, his muscular frame towered over yours and looked ten times more intimidating than you with just his resting face unobscured by the armless glasses he wore. The evening air was cooling down from the high temperatures of the day and a soft breeze flowing and it made Nanami’s hair flow slightly from its perfect position atop his head. He was in a light green sweater and light-wash jeans, which was such a change from his typical suit and tie. Casual suited him, as well as his scent without cologne, it was fresh and kind of minty.

Getting to the restaurant you seat yourself at a nice table near the window. A server stops by to give you menus and welcome you to the establishment. As you look over the menu you fail to notice how Nanami looks at you. Your hair was pulled back with a few strands falling out around your face, framing it nicely. He thought about what a normal life would be like, how it would be to be in a relationship without the threat of death, and most of all what it would be like to be loved by someone. He once again found himself pushing these thoughts out of his mind.

The night flows seamlessly from dinner to a little cafe for coffee and dessert. Conversation hardly stopped from when you sat down for dinner to now, in this cute little cafe with cat-themed decor adorning the walls. You were the last two in the cafe with the barista cleaning the counter and display case. This is a night you didn’t want to end, everything has been amazing, from conversation to food, and finally Nanami. The more time you spent with Nanami the more you wanted to spend with him. His presence is intoxicating.

As you walk back to your hotel there is a light air between you both. The moon is bright and shines on the pair of you. He is close, very close, his arm is close to brushing with yours. To an unsuspecting eye, you looked like a beautiful young couple.

Getting back to the hotel room faced you with the dilemma of the one bed. Nanami initially said he could sleep on the couch, but seeing how large he is compared to the overgrown armchair that had to be out of the question. You could take the couch, but something told you he would never let that happen.

Nanami once again let you take the bathroom first. You dug through your bag for your shorts and oversized tee shirt to get changed into. When you open the bathroom door you see Nanami’s toiletries on the counter opposite your own. What would Nanami be like to live with, being able to see your things with his? He seems like the type of person who has a solid routine and rarely deviates from that. After washing your face and undressing you fold your pants and top neatly to put on for the trip home. The silky shorts felt nice after your legs had been confined all day and the tee shirt fell over the hem of them perfectly.

Nanami is waiting on the bed with his sleepwear folded neatly beside him. When he looks up at you his hair falls away from his face, most likely from the lack of product. He is so handsome in the dim lighting of the hotel room. You both begin to speak only to stop when you realize the other wants to say something. You smile slightly at the usually awkward situation.

“You can go first,” Nanami said, standing to his full height. His hair shifting subtly with his change in position.

“Oh, um, I’m all done in the bathroom,” you said, fidgeting with your clothing you still have in hand.

“Ah, I was going to say that you can take the bed because I really don’t mind,” He said in that deep voice. The voice that could make angels weep.

“That couch is too small for you, if anything I can actually fit on it to sleep,” you say as you move to place your clothing on the dresser opposite the bed. “We could also share the bed if you really won’t let me take the couch,” you say without thinking of the implications of what this fully means.

The air seems to stand still as you both process what you just said. Nanami is a man you just met no more than twenty-four hours prior, and you mentioned you could share a bed. If this were anyone else you would call them crazy for how risky that is with a strange man. Given, Nanami is not entirely strange, he seems to have some set of moral compass given how he is dead set on taking the couch. Your face is completely flushed red and Nanami is sporting a light pink blush as well. Why did you have to say that?

“I, um,” he paused, coughing a little, “I don’t mind taking the couch,” Nanami says, slightly blushing at the thought of sleeping next to you. The smell of your soap and lotion still stuck in his nose and mind, the sweet notes of vanilla and the floral ones of the jasmine would keep him up all night. Nanami also knew he would be too stressed trying to be respectful of your space that he would not sleep at all if he had to share a bed with you. “The couch will be okay for one night, I promise I will be okay there.” He finishes still sporting a faint blush across his sharp cheeks.

You take a breath trying to calm down. “Are you sure?” You asked for a final time, still feeling guilty he will probably not get any sleep on the couch.

“Yes, I would not have said so if I didn’t mean it,” Nanami says firmly, looking at you directly.

You both hold eye contact for a moment, the air thick between your bodies. It feels like you both want to say something, but words don’t come to either of you. His hazel eyes are intense as they still don’t leave your face. You feel your heart rate spike from being under his gaze. Your face could rival a prize-winning tomato for how red you are; Nanami is faring better, at least on the surface. All of his thoughts from earlier, all of the thoughts of a normal life were flooding back into his mind and he couldn’t shove them away fast enough. You are dangerous because there is something about you that makes Nanami feel like he could be with you in that way.

The moment is ruined by the phone ringing in the other room, flashing with the extension from the front desk. Nanami takes another second, keeping your gaze before he answers. You are not paying attention to who is on the other end because you are trying your hardest to calm down. It feels like you’ve just run a mile without prep with how you need to catch your breath.

“That was the front desk,” Nanami cuts through your thoughts with his clear, stern voice. “Another group canceled their reservation, so a room on the second floor is now available,” he continues, clearing his throat. “I need to go to the front desk to sort everything out, but now we both have a bed,” he says walking to put his shoes on.

Nanami is gone for twenty minutes, but it feels like an instant. You try to resume your nighttime routine while he is gone, but you keep getting distracted by your thoughts of that moment. Your flushed cheeks and his intense stare seared into your mind as if it were branded there with a hot iron.

When Nanami comes back into your room he silently packs his things to move into his own room. You observe him, being as still as you can, scared to move too quickly as if he will disappear like a stray cat. Once all his things are packed he stands tall in front of your seated position on the bed. His posture is impeccable, as he tells you his room number and how the hotel comped one of the rooms because of the inconvenience. As you look up at him his hot gaze is already on you, as if he were studying for an exam. You quietly respond with a soft ‘okay’ and ‘Good night’.

When you wake the next morning you feel calmer, more at ease than the prior night. You were so warm up last night that you took another shower just to try and calm your buzzing body and mind, not that it did much. Nanami was not much better, he was thankful to whatever deity granted him a room away from you. His thoughts were muddled and the clarity he was used to was gone. As he finally drifted to sleep he thought of how the atmosphere shifted in that instant before the phone call.

Nanami let you know he would meet you in the lobby around 8 to catch your 11 o’clock flight. As you leave for the airport you do a swift look over of the room to make sure you didn’t forget anything. The room felt so much more empty sans Nanami, his large frame taking up physical space, but his aura taking up infinitely more. His presence is warm and calm, much unlike your own anxious one.

The morning trip to the airport, as well as the airport itself, passes by in an instant. Now you sit at the gate waiting for your flight home; Nanami is on the hunt for coffee, as the hotel only had drip coffee. You are wasting time staring at the pages of a book you weren’t reading, too lost in thought. As a hand with a take-out coffee cup impedes your view and the smell of fresh pastry hits your nose.

“I got peach this time,” Nanami says with a small smile, handing you a bag along with your coffee. He is back in his jeans and sweater from last night, much as you are in the same outfit.

You take the coffee and bag and give thanks to the man now eating his own. The rest of the morning goes much like this, quiet and at ease. There is no tension between you, and you wonder if this is what it is like to date Nanami. Are all of his mornings quiet and tranquil?

Nanami drops you off at your apartment and, as the true gentleman he is, gets your stuff out to hand to you. As you walk away from him you can feel his warmth leave you. This trip was a whirlwind. Nanami is attractive and his personality is unmatched by anyone you’ve met, but he is a coworker now. Plus, he gave no indication that he is interested in you, outside of that moment. That moment could have been anything and he is hard to read so you chose to match his level of professionalism. At this point, the best you can do is friends, which is okay.

April 2014

So much has changed in the past two years after graduating high school. You’ve gotten to know yourself more, honed your fighting techniques, and become better friends with former classmates and coworkers. Soon after your mission with Nanami, you were promoted to a full-fledged grade one sorcerer, you gathered from Gojo that Nanami’s recommendation was glowing.

Currently, you are sitting opposite Gojo in a cafe as you both talk about your plans for your upcoming birthday. The lanky man sitting across from you suggested going all out, after all, you are now an actual adult who can drink. Your speed was more like a small group of people and dinner, not the rager Gojo was already planning. Try as you might Gojo is truly an unstoppable force, and his party planning is quickly getting away from you.

“Gojo, I am not having a massive party, my apartment is only large enough for a few people,” you sigh. “I’ll have dinner with a few friends, but nothing more,” you sternly say to the white-haired man.

“But that’s so boring, we did that last year,” he whined as if your birthday was supposed to entertain him.

Most of your afternoon went on like this because Gojo is, well, Gojo. On the bright side, he did pay for your coffee and treats. You have some paperwork to finish, but other than that you are free for the weekend. Gojo drops you off at your office muttering something about leaving it for Monday.

As you quickly work through the sparse papers on your desk you hear a firm knock, clearly Nanami. Gojo would just burst in and Shoko’s knocks are short and quiet. In the nearly two years you’ve known Nanami, and in that time he has become one of your closest friends. He is the one you go to new museum exhibits with and the one you try new cafes with after said museum outings.

“Come in,” you say, not looking up from the last form you needed to fill out. You sigh for a moment as Nanami’s footsteps enter your office.

“Hey, I saw you were still here and I wanted to see if you wanted to leave together,” Nanami says, looking down at you with a peacoat draped over his arm. “That is if you are almost done.”

“Oh, umm, yeah,” you say, still not looking at him. “I just need to sign off on this and submit it,” you say sighing as you stand to get your stuff. “Where were you wanting to go?” You ask, finally meeting his eyes.

“I was thinking of that new ramen place near yours,” He says holding his hand out to take your bag, “but I am up to suggestions.”

“Great, I just need to run by Yaga’s office to turn these in,” you say smiling at him as you turn off the lights and close your door.

The walk to Yaga’s office is the same as it always is, hallways blurring together. You are looking through the papers making sure everything is in order and Nanami is lost in his own mind. In the time Nanami has known you, you’ve nestled yourself into his life seamlessly. After that first mission in Osaka, the pair of you worked on a few more local missions until you were a full-fledged grade-one sorcerer. Even after that, you made a point to spend time with Nanami, to be his friend. That is something he admires about you, you put so much effort into everything you do; sometimes to your own detriment.

You have an aura to you that draws him in, something that makes Nanami want to know everything about you; not just the superficial things anyone can figure out, but the more intimate things like what your nighttime routine is and how you look when you first wake up. These things are small, but he wants them; he wants you in your entirety, mind, body, and soul.

Nanami came to these conclusions one night after drinking with you, Gojo, and Shoko. He initially turned down Gojo, but when you asked he couldn’t find it in him to decline when he looked into your bright, beautiful eyes. While going out is not his preferred way to spend a night, especially on a Thursday, he thought your presence made it bearable. Especially when you would join in on teasing Gojo with Shoko after a few drinks. After that night Nanami vowed to keep his feelings to himself because you didn’t deserve him, he is a broken man who cannot promise you tomorrow. In his mind, being your friend was better than not being in your life at all.

You were finally able to talk Gojo out of a big party at a club in exchange for dinner at your favorite place and a few drinks afterward. Music is loudly blaring from your phone as you get ready in the bathroom, hot water running over your figure. You think of what to wear, taking into consideration the temperature and the cute-to-comfy ratio of your outfit. When you step out of the shower, you go through your normal routine, taking more time on makeup and hair. Now you stand in front of your closet wondering what to wear. You could go with jeans and a sweater, but that’s what you wear when you normally go out; this is a special night, so maybe a little discomfort is okay. You pick out a short, light pink dress with poofy mesh sleeves and a flowy skirt. You also opt to put stockings with a criss-cross pattern on them under your dress. As you situate the stockings at the top of your thighs your phone dings and lights up.

‘Hey, I was thinking we could head over to the restaurant together so you don’t have to walk alone’ read the text from Nanami. It is not unusual for Nanami to pick you up to go somewhere, but it doesn’t happen as much as you’d like.

After that first mission with Nanami, you were thankful he seemed to want to be friends too, but never anything more. In the past two years, you’ve only grown to like the tall blonde more. He makes sure that you don’t overwork yourself, but rather that you get paid for the work you complete. When he can he also delivers coffee and a pastry. With every coffee delivery, you felt yourself fall a few more meters, you have yet to hit the ground.

You shoot a short ‘yes’ and go about finishing your look for the night. Thinking of Nanami makes you heat up, more than usual that is. There are a few reasons for this, but the main reason being you’ll look like you’re going on a date walking to the restaurant together. That thought alone made you squeal like a schoolgirl.

A curt knock rings through your apartment, signaling Nanami’s arrival, and pulling you out of your head. As you answer your door you notice Nanami has a gift bag in hand, presumably for you. You signal for him to come in and greet him, mentioning something about not being quite ready yet. Digging through your jewelry box for a necklace you ramble about your day to Nanami, who responds with grunts and nods, not that you could see him as he is in the living room.

Nanami fills you in on how his day has been as you walk side-by-side to the restaurant. He is self-conscious, something he has not been since high school, because you look amazing, and he just has a dark grey sweater on with nice pants. The dress is just short enough to see the upper parts of your thighs, but not so short that it is immodest. Nanami tries to not stare too much, but he really can’t given how well the stockings hug your things. The plush fat of them bludged slightly from the restriction from the stockings. This outfit is driving him insane– you are driving him insane. Just for a moment, Nanami allows him to wonder what it would be like to have you look this good for him, and him alone.

As you reach the restaurant you stop Nanami just shy of the entry, so as to not obscure the entry. He gives you a questioning look, and you just stare back at him with wide eyes. Words fail to escape your mouth as you look into his dreamy eyes. You try to start a sentence multiple times, but nothing ever reaches your mouth. Of course, he looks amazing, the sweater with the collar from a button down underneath. As you finally find the words to say Gojo begins yelling from down the block. You break away from the moment with Nanami and turn just in time for Gojo to pull you into a hug. Shoko is not far behind the lanky man as she holds two gifts, one hers and the other probably Gojo’s.

The host seats you all at a booth in the corner of the restaurant, and lights dim for the atmosphere. You slide into the space next to the wall and Nanami follows suit, sitting close to you at the smallish table. Gojo is directly across from you and Shoko is across from Nanami. Conversation flows, as do some drinks with dinner, and the food comes and goes. You feel a light buzz from the two drinks– one from Gojo and one from Shoko– as you prepare to pay your bill. The waiter comes back to divide up the bill and you all hand in your cards and discuss where to go next, as the drink portion is to appease Gojo.

The bar Gojo chooses has soft music playing and comfy sitting areas, the best for conversation. Nanami offers to get you a vodka cranberry, your drink of choice, while you find somewhere to sit. Shoko, being the woman she is, kept getting round after round of drinks. You are certain that you are mostly alcohol now, you cannot see straight and you didn’t want to try walking, in fear that your choice of platform boots will make you fall over.

Nanami can tell you are out of it, your eyes are not focused on anything in particular, and you are no longer talking in more than one-word answers. He closed out at the bar and told Gojo and Shoko he was taking you home, so as to not cause you more harm in the morning.

As you focus on Shoko complaining about some of the new changes to her duties from the higher ups you feel Nanami’s warm hand on your back. He looks down at you with concern, not that you can particularly tell right now. His deep voice is calming and rich, like the most decadent chocolate as he bids Gojo and Shoko goodbye. He makes sure you have everything, including the new mug from Gojo and the two wine glasses from Shoko.

When you step outside with Nanami still holding on to you the cool April air hits your face, causing you to shiver slightly. Nanami opts to hail a cab, mostly because he is not sure how far you can walk. As one pulls to the side Nanami puts you in the back and walks around to the other side for himself. You cling to him as soon as he sits, and you are not wanting to let go. He tells the driver your address and just lets you cling to him as if he is your lifeline.

This is nice, your hair smells just how it did when he first met you. Nanami once again lets himself think of what it would be like to have this all the time; you pressed against his body while you go to a shared home. He thinks back to what you were trying to say before dinner, before Gojo ruined it– typical.

The ride to your building is quick. Nanami pays and tips the driver and practically hoists you to stand. He can tell you are close to crashing, your body heavy, and your movements lethargic. At this point, he thinks about carrying you, as it may be easier than standing at an awkward angle holding you up, but decides against it so as to not cross any boundaries.

When he opens your door you struggle to take off your shoes and leave them in a pile on the floor, a problem for later you. You drunkenly stumble through your apartment with Nanami in tow as you try to undress. The zipper on the back of your dress seems infinitely further than when you zipped yourself into the dress. You break down and ask Nanami, who is standing outside as you change, to help you because you just want to go to bed. As he opens the door he sees you sitting on your bed swaying slightly. He unzips your dress and turns around to give you more privacy, but your perky butt and back are displayed in the full-length mirror he is now facing. You stand still for a minute, in your stockings and lacy pink panties with a matching bra before stumbling into the bathroom. A red-hot blush expands across Nanami’s face as he tries to not stare like a pervert, but there is something about how your ass looks in the lace panties that makes him insane.

Nanami leaves to sit on the couch, so as to not invade your space, trying to calm down from seeing you in such a state of undress, after all, he is just a man. For a third time tonight, he finds his mind wondering what it would be like to see you like this for him. What would it be like to undress you and feel how your soft body would squirm under his touch? What noises could he pull from you? How would you sound moaning his name? He shakes his thoughts away and busies himself with getting aspirin and water for you in hopes of getting rid of his little (massive) problem.

As you reemerge from the bathroom you have no more makeup on and are now in an oversized sweatshirt that reaches the tops of your thighs. You move to lie down and get comfy as Nanami has water and some aspirin in hand for you in the doorway. He gives you the pills first, then the water and you mutter a thanks while yawning. Making sure you don’t need anything more from him, Nanami heads for the door when he hears you, in such a soft voice, ask him to stay. In his tipsy state, he almost misses it, but not quite.

“What was that?” He asks, making sure his ears are in working order. His eyes intently search yours as you answer.

“Can you please stay with me?” you ask again, this time a little louder. “You don’t ha–” He cuts you off with a very quick acceptance and begins to make his way to the other side of your bed.

The next morning you wake up with a pounding headache and unbelievably dry throat. You reach for the water on your nightstand and gulp what’s left down in a hurry. Taking a breath, you take in your room, and the large man still asleep next to you. He shed his sweater and button down and is now in a form-fitting white undershirt. Sitting up next to this god among men you take a moment or two to admire Nanami’s form; his massive arms holding one of the cutesy stuffed animals you keep on your bed. Oh to be that stuffed cat.

You get up to get more water and scrounge something to eat from your sparse pantry as your memories trickle back. Your face heats up when you set the tea kettle on the stove as you remember practically begging poor Nanami to stay with you. Given, he wouldn’t have done something unless he wanted to, that much you knew. Does this mean he sees you in a romantic way? Or was this more of him wanting to make sure you don’t choke on your own vomit?

Nanami wakes up and quickly realizes he is not in his home, but rather your home. He also realizes you are not in bed with him, but your spot is still lukewarm. The smell of toast and tea wafts into the room as he sits up in bed. As he looks around he sees the stuffed animals strewn about the room, most likely his doing as he slept, as well as the cute white cat he currently holds. You consume his thoughts, millions of them racing in. Why did you ask him to stay? Why did he stay? Could this mean you wanted him too?

Sitting at your small table you have tea and toast, with a cup and plate on the counter waiting for Nanami. You have to talk about last night, but more so how you feel about the typically stoic man. There is no going back to before he slept in your bed, his warm body feeling like the missing puzzle piece in your life. He looked so peaceful sleeping with the sun peeking through the curtains of your room and landing on his sharp features.

Nanami walks into your main living space in his light blue boxers, looking like a Calvin Klein ad. You offer the tea and toast on the counter to the god of a man standing in your home. He takes the seat opposite yours and just looks at you. Your hair is pulled back with a clip with a few pieces near the front falling out, framing you in such a beautiful way. The sun softly shining into your home makes you look ethereal, your beauty outshining Aphrodite.

“I’m sorry,” you say as he takes a sip of the tea. “For last night that is,” you finish avoiding his eyes. You take a deep breath before continuing, “You should know, I like you,” another breath, “in a more than friendly way,” you say, feeling the sting of tears in the corners of your eyes. The weight of your words and emotions sit on you like a stone as you await Nanami’s rejection.

“Can you at least look at me when you tell me you love me?” Nanami asks with a small smirk on his pink lips. His eyes meet yours, which are full of sorrow.

“What,” you respond, taken by surprise at his comment. Your brow furrows as you ponder what he could mean. Your sorrow is replaced by confusion.

“For such a smart woman you’re quite dense, aren’t you?” He said still teasing you. “I want your mornings, afternoons, and evenings.” Nanami stands and moves to stand in front of you, his large body looming over you. “I want to be the man you look for in a crowded room, the one you get all dressed up for. I want you– all of you.”

You stare up at him, confused at his sudden burst of affection. His usual stoic demeanor was gone, now replaced by a soft expression on his sharp features. He holds your eyes, waiting for your response.

“Nan-” you stop yourself, now would be the time to use his first name, “Kento, I do look for you in every crowded room, you’re the one I want to give all of my time to.” You stand, still dwarfed by Kento’s massive frame.

Neither of you says anything for a moment, rather just processing what just happened. He leans closer to you and you meet him halfway, having to stand on your toes. The kiss is tentative as if you are both scared that this is some form of a cruel dream. Once your lips touch his everything feels at peace, you have no thoughts other than Kento and his soft lips on yours. As you pull away from the short, but sweet, kiss you both cannot stop the smiles that threaten to break your faces.

He goes in for another kiss, this time with more assurance and passion. His lips are hot and needy as his hands begin to roam your body. Kento’s kisses get more needy and his hands pull at you more and more. Large hands grab at your plush ass as he lifts you to his hips, instinctively, you wrap your legs around his muscular waist. You continue to make out while Kento carefully moves the both of you to your bedroom.

The next few weeks are filled with getting to know Kento in a deeper, more romantic way. As time passes with him you fall even deeper in love, as does he; the only difference now is that you are not scared to hit the ground because he’s there to catch you. You get to see him, who he is at his core, what makes him tick and it is a true honor. There are so many things that are uncertain in your life, but you know Kento will be a constant.

Kento does not believe in soulmates, there is no reason this cruel world would give people that luxury, but you are the closest thing to his. He never thought he would be allowed to have you in the ways he wanted you, but here you are in his arms. The Morning sun shines through his blinds causing you to snuggle closer to his chest. Kento debates getting up and making you breakfast, but decides against it in favor of holding your naked form against his own, just for a little longer.

August 2016

Kento finishes tying his bow tie and does a final look in the bathroom mirror before turning off the lights and leaving to find you. You are in the bedroom sitting at your vanity in a pretty white dress, something shorter because of the less-than-traditional wedding celebration. The dress has short sleeves with lace detailing at the ends that match the lace on the rest of the dress. You look up at Kento as you finish putting your makeup on and smile at your soon-to-be husband.

“The car is almost here darling,” Kento tells you, offering you a hand, a smile matching yours. “You look stunning,” He says, leaning down for a quick kiss.

“So do you my dear,” you say drinking him in, his white form-fitting shirt and light gray suit make you drool at the thought of taking it off of him later tonight. “Ready?”

“More than anything else,” Kento says, the smile still not leaving his perfect features.

The ceremony is short and intimate, just what you and Kento wanted. Nothing too extravagant, but still filled with love. After the ceremony, you and Kento go to a late lunch at your favorite restaurant and just enjoy the day as a married couple. You both sit in a cute little cafe with coffee and dessert. Every once and a while there is the soft clink on Kento’s mug from his ring, the one that matches yours. With each clink, your stomach does flips because you actually got to marry this man.

The rest of the evening is something out of an old film, the couple strolls through the city streets, lit by the moonlight and shop lights. Kento’s hand in yours, you talk about something while he looks like a lovesick puppy. He has an uncharacteristic soft smile across his features because of you. The walk back to your shared apartment is serene and feels right. Nights like this are what you live for, they are simple, but it’s the small moments that make you fall even more in love with Kento. The way he makes sure you have at least two meals a day that are nutritious or the way he makes you feel like you are the most important person in the world– because to him you are.

November 2017

Nights with Kento are quiet and beautiful. On this particular night you lie on his bare chest post-coitus as he strokes your hair gently. You fidget with his wedding band that matches yours, just content to be with him at this moment.

“Hey” Kento says in a soft voice to grab your attention, “how would you feel about having kids?” He asks, looking down at you. “Mine specifically” he clarifies.

“I would love to have your kids, but do you really think we’re ready?” you ask not knowing if you were ready for such a big change to your life. “I mean, we would need to get a bigger place and work seems to never stop.” You ramble on for a little about your anxieties of parenthood and Kento just looks at you with admiration.

“We have enough to buy a townhouse or condo if that is the biggest concern,” Kento says, softly petting your hair.

October 30th 2018

You are abruptly awoken by a loud cry from down the hall of your pristine townhouse. The noise is not foreign to you, as it once was, but more of a routine, a signal to get up and prepare to feed or change the small girl, Yukie, lying in her crib. Kento usually handles the random 3 AM cries, but he has been so worn out recently because he has been training another student, as per Gojo’s request. As you get out of the warm embrace of your husband he grunts and moves to his stomach.

Just a few doors from your own is your daughter’s, who is in the cutest pink and green flower onesie. You pull her from her crib and get situated to feed her in the comfy chair in the corner of the obscenely pink room— Kento’s doing. The monotony of feeding pulls you into your own thoughts now that your bundle of sunshine has quieted down.

Having a kid with Kento has made you want more because of the attentive husband he was during your pregnancy and how amazing of a father he is. He never complains about getting up in the middle of the night or having to do his errands with her strapped to his chest (seeing him in the baby bjorn for the first time almost made you jump him in the middle of the kitchen). Kento is truly the ideal man to have your children with because of his evercalm disposition, which you saw crack when he held your daughter for the first time in the harsh lighting in the hospital room.

In the morning you feel light and airy, as if you are floating a few centimeters off the ground as you are making eggs and toast. Kento and your daughter having tummy time in the living room; her bright laugh and babbles are followed by Kento’s soft chuckles and coos encouraging her. Mornings like this are the ones you live for, even if you are exhausted and have bags the size of checked luggage under your eyes. The quiet mundane life is all you need to feel complete, to feel at peace with yourself and the world.

Kento’s voice breaks through your thoughts, “Love, I have to work tomorrow night.” He says strapping your daughter into her high chair. “I know you had some cute costumes and plans for Yukie’s first Halloween, but this is unavoidable.” Disappointment evident in his voice as he runs his hand through his hair.

“Is everything okay?...” You trail off wondering what is so important that they would call Kento in when he’s supposed to work less because of his daughter. “I mean, I know there are more curses active around holidays, but do you really have to go in?”

“Yaga said almost everyone active is needed, not much else though.” He says looking at you while Yukie plays with his fingers. You can’t help but feel anxiety creep up in the back of your mind.

Thoughts are coming in from all over the place, what’s going on that Kento needs to work? Of course Kento is one of the best sorcerers, but is this a mission he needs to be on? What is going on?

The following evening you make a quick dinner so Kento has something on his stomach for what will probably be a long night ahead of him. As the rice noodles are finishing Kento walks into the room with his suit and tie on. He looks as good as the day you met him all those years ago. Kento gets two plates down with utensils and glasses for himself and you, as well as mashed peas and carrots for Yukie.

This domestic bliss will return after this mission, at least until the next year, when Kento needs to go back full time. Yukie is giggling as Kento is tickling her on the floor before getting her into her chair for dinner. He is her favorite person in the entire world, she will always reach for him when he comes home, drop everything the second he comes into her line of sight.

As you set the plates down on the small dining room table Kento comes with Yukie’s bib and food in hand. The rest of dinner is filled with babbles from Yukie and light conversation as you and Kento dance around the elephant in the room. Kento brings up wanting to take the last two weeks in December off to finally travel to Malaysia; which you fully agree with because you could both use a change in scenery.

Kento starts to gather his equipment and leave after Yukie is put down for bed. The house is silent, and you are stuck in your head again. It is highly improbable that Kento will get seriously injured or killed, but that is always a fear you have given your shared line of work.

“I should be home by tomorrow morning, dear.” Kento says, bringing you back to Earth in his calming smooth voice. He pulls you into his chest as he holds you close for a little while, planting kisses to the top of your head occasionally.

“Just come home to me Nanami Kento.” you say looking up at him with a small smile playing on the corners of your mouth.

“I love you.” He says before letting you go.

You fill the rest of your night trying to not stress over the mission Kento is on, but most of your attempts of trying to relax are futile. The one thing you find does help is propping up with your laptop in Yukies room with a small lamp giving off a soft yellow light and looking up Malaysia hotels and tickets to surprise Kento with when he gets home.

As the hour shifts to around 3 in the morning you feed Yukie one more time before heading to bed. Knowing Kento he will be upset if you screwed up your sleep schedule just for him. You quickly shower and change into a silk pajama set before lying down and falling into a dreamless slumber quickly.

You wake up around 9 to the sound of your doorbell ringing. Kento is still not home, but maybe he is getting ahead on his paperwork so he can spend the rest of his time with you and Yukie today. The house is cold, as you slip a robe on to answer the door. When you get down the bell rings again as you open the door to Ijichi, who is already fully bowed down.

“I’m very sorry to inform you…”

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tavolgisvist · 2 months ago

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Allen Klein is a businessman. He has had dealings with a guy called Tony Calder who worked as a partner for Andrew Oldham. The three of them managed the affairs of the Rolling Stones. Oldham & Calder left the Stones scene, but Klein stayed. … Tony has something on his mind that is why he is taking me to work in his Morgan. He says: ‘Allen Klein says you are in his way. Allen says you are blocking him from meeting the Beatles and doing business with them.’ I am amazed. I say, ‘I never give Allen Klein a thought from one year to the next. What is the guy talking about, me being in his way?’ … So I tell Tony if Klein thinks I am in his way, and as I’m not in his way, I’d better show the guy I’m not, by moving out of the way anyone else who might be in his way. I tell Tony to tell Klein I am (a) not in his way, and (b) if anyon I tell Tony to tell Klein to call. I go into work at Apple and I see Peter Brown, Brian’s old pal, mine, the Beatles, Apple’s and so on. Peter knows many things. I say, ‘Allen Klein wants to meet the Beatles.’ ‘Does he ever,’ says Peter. I ask: ‘Is there anyone in his way?’ Peter says, ‘Only the Beatles.’ He explains Brian didn’t like Klein and the Beatles had never heard anything about him that attracted them either. … I say there is this guy Klein who badly wants to see them. John says yeah, Klein’s been trying to reach him but he won’t take the call. I do some hype for Klein and say he is a strange cat, hated by some of the people who met him and also by some of the people who have only heard of him. George says, ‘he sounds really nice’, and I say that if they want someone to run their money scene then Klein may be the man. But I also say they had better look at him very hard and ask around Jagger and Donovan and the others he handles. I mean really check Klein out. But see him too. See him face to face. John says OK, I’ll see him and the others rhubarb a bit and that’s the lunch over. I call Les Perrin and tell him tell Klein to call and Klein does and then he flies over really fast, like yesterday. He meets John, they talk all night and boy do they dig each other. John comes into the office and says, ‘Don’t care about the others, don’t give a shit … but I’m having Klein, he can have all of my stuff and get it sorted out.’ John says there is too much fear around, everyone must stop being frightened, everything is going to be fantastic, like Klein is going to be the genie of the lamp. Paul, George and Ringo get to meet Klein and he begins to act as if he is half-hired but maybe not. He says he will save Northern Songs from the wicked Lew Grade. He says he will buy NEMS Enterprises. He says he will take EMI to the cleaners. In the end he doesn’t save Northern Songs and he doesn’t buy NEMS Enterprises, but takes EMI and Capitol to the cleaners and to hell and back… …

It is 1970. Paul still doesn’t like Klein but John digs him more than ever and George digs him more than that and Ringo doesn’t mind him. Paul? He is so uptight about Klein he only leaves the Beatles, that’s all. Klein and me meet the press and TV and all that; together we sit on a sofa and talk about Paul. Mr Klein, why doesn’t Paul like you? Mr Taylor, why doesn’t Paul like Mr Klein? I don’t know, don’t ask me, man, don’t ask me. Paul releases his album and Klein releases the Beatles’ album and they both make a million and Klein has had Phil Spector remix Paul’s song ‘The Long and Winding Road’, adding a women’s choir and some violins etc. Paul thinks this is the shittiest thing anyone has ever done to him and that is saying something, but Klein laughs up his silk sleeve and releases ‘Long and Winding Road’ as a single anyway and still with Phil’s new arrangement. Up there in Scotland, Paul McCartney, one of the four owners of Apple, the company formed to give total freedom, artistic control, to struggling performers and writers, wonders what went wrong, when even he can’t control his own work. I am wondering too. Everyone is wondering. But Klein isn’t wondering. He knows, he knows. …

Money is pouring into Apple so I guess you could say that Allen Klein straightened Apple out as the Beatles wanted it. The only thing is … where is Apple and where are the Beatles? If you find out, please let me know, I haven’t seen them in a long time. The way I see it, Klein is really bringing a whole lot of people down, including me sometimes and I have a deal which keeps me at home writing stuff like this so what am I whining about? Well, being as how I brought Klein to Apple, by making sure the way was clear, I owe someone, somewhere something, that’s for sure. What is it and what have I done? Our Apple is all chewed up. It is the most ungroovy place I ever knew and I have to say it, we have all let it happen, all of us, but me, I told Tony Calder to tell Klein to call and if I am going to make any more mistakes about Allen Klein, then let it be writing this, let it be.

(Derek Taylor, As Time Goes By, 1973)

(Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X, Part XI)

#derek taylor #allen klein #the beatles #john lennon #paul mccartney #george harrison #ringo starr #as time goes by #i'm reading

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rmemebrt · 4 months ago

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Venus and Mars

I'm making another album analysis because Paul Mccartney is a devious vagrant, and no one else will count his sins.

You can check out the one I did on McCartney II here

Side One

Venus and Mars – Very much a blend of old and new musically, Venus and Mars are alright for now

Rock Show – He looks like a guy you knew way back when??Madison Square and long hair? alright buddy

Love in Song – You notice a lot of wanting, yearning, looking at the past here, The Homeland, remembrance, the love that once was there

You Gave Me the Answer – As it live here, this is a Linda song, however, it's structure, it's themes, it seems to suggest it would have been a John song, if given the chance, remembrance, also Granny Music lmao

Magneto and Titanium Man – Who among us will be strong enough to make Paul McCartney's marvel oc real?

Letting Go – This song is super John coded, it sounds like Beef Jerky, along with that we also get the mention of divinity, and Mother Nature

Side two

Venus and Mars (Reprise) – Wanting to go away on a trip, Running into a good friend

Spirits of Ancient Egypt – Okay we start with Baby and Love, making it seem pretty classicly Linda core, however! longing and yearning, spirits and the past coming over the phone? and "I know", okay pal

Medicine Jar – drugs!!! <3

Call Me Back Again – Certified mclennon classic, we all know it, we all love it, if you pair it with Tell Me What You See and I've Just Seen A Face you'll be sobbing for an hour

Listen to What the Man Said – We are right out of the gate with New Orleans mention, that classes this immediately as mclennon, ♥ love ♥, the ending is very late beatles

Treat Her Gently – Lonely Old People – A sweet song, also some yeahs in there, pretty Linda Coded as all things go, but could be a little mclennon-y if you want it

Crossroads – A nice outro and way out, Venus and Mars have met at the crossroads, but crossroads are meant for passing

I'd say overall, the original Venus and Mars is a very mclennon coded album, there are elements in the songs that you can feel were for John, and also just some great music, it's definitely really good.

Now let's move on to the other additional tracks!

Junior's Farm – Time to seek inner peace by going to a farm in the middle of nowhere and also kill Richard Nixon!!!

Sally G – But going to a farm to seek inner peace reminds us of the past! Like what caused you to come to the farm the first time! Big Gay Divorce reference!!!

Walking in the Park with Eloise – Something nice for his dad :)

Bridge on the River Suite – B-side to Eloise, a nice instrumental, a little melancholic

My Carnival – carnival? like carnival of light!!! No, but it's nice to see him get to act ringmaster, if you wanted you could spin this to be about The Big Gay Divorce

Going To New Orleans (My Carnival) – This being right before Hey Diddle is just sad, like dude, you are not going to see the girl, her ass is back in NYC

Hey Diddle – I wonder who he could possibly be yearning for in this, who in the world could Linda be reassuring him that "next time around she will be here"

Let's Love – The piano, the style, this for sure was going to be a John song, the asking to spend this brief time together, the references to phones, oh my god, the ending notes sound like Dear Friend

Soily – Fun, whimsical, no value to the fag theory, but fun nonetheless

Baby Face – More whimsy and fun, Granny once more

Lunch Box/Odd Sox – the b-side to Coming Up, so, gay by proxy, not as much whimsy, more so melancholy

4th of July – bro... "you came in with him again/and suddenly, I knew it wasn't my day" what the hell

All in all, it's really gay, it's gayer than McCartney II could dream to be, it holds more weight because it's the sessions where John was supposed to be there, but couldn't, and that is reflected in most of the songs.

#while I was making this I added a bunch of annotations to the genius entry for Sally G #strictly mclennon #the mclennon album of all time #cavern queers #the beatles #paul mccartney #john lennon #mclennon

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true-blue-sonic · 14 days ago

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I felt bad about having literally nothing ready for Silver week 2024, so I dragged this from the depths of my very being this evening, haha. Dreams of an Absolution mentions that every night Silver lays awake, and that is what gave me the inspiration for this fic. Hope you enjoyed!🍀

☆☆☆☆☆☆

Day 1: Dreams

A snippy “Sonic, wake up!” isn’t what Sonic likes to hear when getting roused from a comfortable nap.

It’s not the first time this has been said, he thinks. There’s been more of such demands around him, as have been some pushes. Maybe. The speedster has ignored them all, floating through his sweet dreams as he is-

Until his entire body is given a shake, somehow, and that doesn’t make much sense.

With a grumble the speedster opens one eye to glare at his disruptor. It’s a glare returned in kind: Silver’s crossed arms and bristling quills speak of plentiful irritation on the psychic’s side, as does the way Sonic gets dropped onto the ground again. But neither is anything new with Silver, Sonic’s still-half-asleep brain promptly decides, and thus he stretches with an elaborate yawn. This calm field of flowers between swaying grasses and white cotton clouds in the blue sky above do not lend themselves for hastiness and irritations.

“Something the matter?” he nods back at Silver after multiple seconds, in which Silver’s dry annoyance has grown tenfold.

“Yes," gets huffed back. "I’ve been trying to wake you for ages. Tails needs you, but he couldn’t reach you on your Miles Electric. And I went out to search for you because I thought something had happened, only to find you asleep in a field of flowers while refusing to get up?!”

Between that complaint Sonic has long jumped right to his feet, any thoughts about the calmness of flowers, grasses, clouds and skies forgotten.

“Oops,” he decrees, snatching the device in question and sheepishly studying the multiple missed calls on it. Yes, Tails had been talking extensively about a new invention he was going to test one of these days, and apparently the fated moment would have been hours ago. Not nice of him to let his pal hanging like that, Sonic admonishes himself. He’d best go there immediately to make up for it. “My bad. The flowers in this Zone are really nice to sleep in,” he offhandedly mentions to Silver, tucking the Miles Electric away again. “Still, thanks for waking me. Let’s go to Tails’.”

A shake of Silver’s head that Sonic would describe as rather judgemental is his response, the other turning on his heels and stalking away. “Tails already said you’d probably be in dreamland, since you didn’t respond,” gets called out over a grey-furred shoulder, Sonic laughing at that.

“He knows me too well. Yep, I was.”

“It’s the middle of the day.”

“So?”

“Dreaming is for late at night. If you're doing it during the day, you should at least be awake. Daydreaming isn't done while sleeping,” Silver states firmly, shaking out his bristling quills as a softer look forms on his face. He always looks more sunny like that, Sonic thinks every time he sees it. This time there’s even a little smile reserved for him. “But I’d been trying to wake you for a while already,” the psychic adds with a little snort. “It was impossible. You whined at me a couple of times, even.”

A full laugh slips past Sonic’s lips at the tease. “Did not.”

“Did so. Heard it myself.”

“That’s hardly proof,” Sonic winks back at him. “Besides, you can’t blame me for having nice dreams. I was flying through space and past galaxies, that’s far too neat to be woken up from so brusquely. Don’t you think?”

Pensively Silver rubs his chin. “That does sound nice. I guess dreaming of flying is quite special if you can’t fly normally?”

“I know what flying is like,” the speedster responds; he’s turned Super enough times for that to not be a mystery for him anymore. But it does leave him wondering… “You’re making it sound like you never dream the day away, heh. So what do you dream about?” he inquires, kicking into a brisk jog as Silver floats beside him into the air.

Silver’s brow furrows. “Why do you want to know?”

“Just curious. If flying in your dreams doesn’t faze you, then what does? What kinds of marvellous thoughts occupy your dreams?” Sonic smiles back; just something to fill the time between them on the journey back to Tails’ workshop, a few Zones over. And he doesn’t know the answer to his question anyway. He knows it from a lot of his friends: Amy dreams of him, she’s always been quite obvious about that, and Rouge dreams of gemstones, Knuckles of things around Angel Island, the Chaotix of money…

But what about Silver?

The almost staggeringly long silence that follows is rather suspicious, however.

“It’s nothing spectacular,” eventually breaks it, as does a deep sigh. “It’s just… things about the past, or the future.”

That doesn’t sound like sweet dreams, Sonic promptly decides. If they were, Silver would be more forward about it. “Nightmares?” he opens the opportunity for elaboration, though Silver slowly shakes his head at that.

“Not really… I just think a lot before I fall asleep, and then I’m so tired I don’t really dream that much anymore. It's not daydreaming because they're not nice thoughts, but...”

“You can't sleep because of it,” Sonic fills in. He’d add an inquiry if Silver is overthinking, and about what precisely, but he knows well enough that prodding doesn’t always go over well with his hot-headed friend. Yet, leaving the topic unmentioned otherwise doesn’t sit well with him either… “Silver, if you can’t sleep because you’re thinking too much, you can come to one of us,” he adds, giving the other a gentle nudge with his elbow. “We don’t mind, really. We’re here to help each other.”

Silver for his part only shrugs. “You will have to be with me every night, then. It's always the same thing."

“And that’s okay. We want to be, if it’ll make your dreams better.”

“I’ll think about it,” gets hummed back; the final thing said as Sonic’s brisk jog turns into a full run and Silver rushes beside him in silence.

Amidst Tails’ teasing about Sonic being a sleepyhead once the duo has returned to his workshop and extensive playing around with the new contraption Tails had wanted to try Sonic almost forgets what he and Silver have talked about, over the hours that the afternoon lasts still. But when the sun has sunk into the horizon and Sonic has crashed onto Tails’ couch after seeing his brother off to bed, a shuffle at the door makes his ears twitch.

He doesn’t need to open his eyes to know it’s Silver tiptoeing into the living room, with quiet breaths and softer footsteps.

Silver's eyes burn into him, the hairs on Sonic's spine prickling at the sensation. His friend stands frozen... but eventually the footsteps resume, until a weight sinks down at the very edge of the sofa's pillows. That golden stare is on Sonic still, but the speedster doesn't twitch a single quill in response, and eventually, slowly, Silver scoots closer. A lithe weight drops against Sonic's knees, small shuffles and minute movements following until Silver's tucked himself away into a little half-ball...

He’s close enough for Sonic to stretch out a hand and discreetly run his fingers over Silver’s.

The weight against his legs tenses immediately, but Sonic stays quiet. Silver doesn’t want him to talk or ask anything, he knows. But the quiet I’ll be with you is present between them: an assurance from Sonic’s side, and an acceptance from Silver’s.

And that’s how they lay, until Silver’s body has relaxed again and the other has finally, finally drifted off after the better part of an hour, Sonic refusing to let sleep claim him until his friend’s breaths have deepened and his usually-guarded face has softened like it had this afternoon.

“Have sweet dreams,” Sonic whispers into little grey ears, before turning around and sinking into them himself, with Silver’s breaths quiet but even as the speedster’s world becomes black too.

#silver the hedgehog #sonic the hedgehog #silver week 2024 #might edit this if I upload it to Ao3 #I can fit SO much more fluff and cuteness in that ending haha #blue's writing #I'm a staunch supporter of Sonic and Silver friendship

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fountainpenguin · 4 months ago

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Riddle watches New Wish - Post #8

"The Wellsington Hotellsington"

I'm glad Hazel's parents seem chill. They're not strict about "No sleepovers" or anything. They seem more involved than Timmy's (and holy cow, they're better at interactions with their daughter than Chloe's were with her).

Yeah, it's not like I ever doubted (because I loved Chloe's mental breakdown drama), but this and the dino episode are really cementing just how bad Clark and Connie were with parenting, sdkfj.

If Chloe tried to play with her parents at the museum, they'd totally shut down her giddiness and drag her into a lesson on naming or drawing dinosaurs. She'd seem hyped, but... Timmy would know. Timmy always knew.

I miss Timmy "will stay with you for an hour while you have a total breakdown" Turner... I miss the fairy step-siblings. Where's my boy?

... That is actually really interesting that I can't give Hazel a 50-years-of-frozen-time backstory. With Chloe, she blatantly raised herself on Fair Bears and I had a lot of other characters who got their lives screwed up by failing to emotionally mature or physically progress... but Hazel missed all that, so she's got Regular Childhood. And barring what I just said, I'm usually writing Fae in 'fics that span hundreds of thousands of years. Having such a limited timeframe to work with is... a new experience for me here.

Whyyyyy did Hazel and Jasmine not know who Wynn (sp?) is if they've been in the same class for weeks? (Hazel's over 100 wishes and mentioned weeks had passed during "Teacher's Pal"). Does this kid not talk to them? I thought they sat near Hazel, by the door? I'm pretty sure if I go back and look, this kid is 1 or 2 desks to her right.

Dev, don't you have better things to do than stalk Hazel and eavesdrop? This kid has issues. Tell me more.

I'm really glad we have a Dimmadome bully and not a Buxaplenty bully. Fingers crossed that Remy broke the abuse cycle, and also... the Dimmadomes are 100% known for butting into everything. I complained that he shouldn't stalk, but... he's a Dimmadome. Of course he's wandering around waiting for his chance to jump in for a line and brag about stuff.

"Hazard" is a very funny nickname for Hazel. Dev should keep calling her that.

This kid has insecurity issues about... his house? And/or being outclassed, but it's the house that seems to ruffle his feathers. The one thing Dimmadomes are known for is their big buildings. Hmm. Something's going on here...

I was going to make a joke about how Jasmine apparently didn't come over to Hazel's house despite their plans to play together, but Jasmine made it for me. Apparently she HAS been over and is sus. sdflkj.

Wynn is super nice. Hazel is being a creep sdkf.

Whoops, so much for the roof garden. Also, I like how the founder picture for the hotel is just Hazel in disguise.

His parents aren't at his party, huh? I see where this is going...

Either this kid's got a fairy - but he doesn't have brightly colored items or pets we've seen - or something is keeping him riding the border without tipping into miserable. We never got a canon reason why Tootie didn't have a fairy, though it's implied she can't keep her mouth shut and would endanger Fairy World. I wonder if those recording devices following him around are getting in the way, although that's probably not likely.

OR he's lost a fairy (similar to Remy gambling Juandissimo away), which would be hilarious. Imagine him getting a fairy and he's like "I don't want this. I have money."

I'm thinking he's got enough of his heart set in his pride and his things that he's finding enough joy to keep afloat, but I'm keeping an eye on him. Now that I'm thinking about it, Kevin Crocker with a fairy would've been funny. Then again, I kind of gave him Foop as a buddy... and even though he's the deadest kid inside, he was still pretty cheery.

Dev, however, does NOT give me cheery vibes. I'm sus.

Actually, I do not trust Fairy World to be functioning the same way it did in the old days, considering that enough time has passed for Cosmo and Wanda to retire and Jorgen to notably age. There WAS a fairy shortage in Season 10 - and so few Fairies left by Season 7 that they couldn't even fill the stadium when Timmy summoned them - so... hmm. Is he getting Cookie, who was actively looking for a godkid a few episodes ago?

If Fairy World's still under the same protocol it used to be, Jorgen's the only Temporary Fairy on-call, and we HAVE seen him introduced. Hmm...

I'm wondering if this is gonna be a Juandissimo comeback? He's got experience with rich kids, he IS a notable fairy from the early seasons (all the seasons), and he even loves bratty kids who don't listen to him to the point that he couldn't hold a job after losing Remy (because he was crying too much) and ended up defying Da Rules to return Remy's memories. Now that Wanda and Cosmo are so friendly in this portrayal, it could be really interesting to throw him in the mix again.

I liked when Cosmo showed him the "guest room" in "Jerk of All Trades" and then threw him in the freezer. Give me more of that.

This would be very unlikely since it's literally a deleted part of an early script, but... do I dare dream we see the return of "Juandissimo is terrified of only one person and it's Cosmo, whom he refers to as Wanda's cunning and calculating warrior husband?" That would be great! My dream. :)

I like how Cosmo in the OG series tolerated Juandissimo, claiming that he would tell him to stop flirting with Wanda, but he won't because he likes eating Juandissimo's food too much. 10/10 dynamic. It's so underrated; Cosmo's hilarious.

I'm loving early-vibe Cosmo and Wanda... do I DARE dream of a return with early-vibe Juandissimo? My super kind and polite boy who gets invited to at least 4 parties at Timmy's house, makes a point of letting Wanda talk to Cosmo before she makes decisions involving them alone in a room, and runs away at top speed when he clocks Wanda as not being able to consent to hanging out with him (because Cupid's love arrow?) Seasons 1-7 Juandissimo, my beloved... :')

I miss him.

My vague understanding is that this show is ongoing, probably multiple seasons if it does well, so I don't think they're wrapping it up at the end of Season 1... but if they did, I could definitely see a "Hazel gives her blessing for Cosmo and Wanda to go to Dev" plot, which would be an interesting direction (since we never got that kind of closure with Timmy and I doubt they'd do a share program plot twice).

It's kind of a shame we didn't get a separate reboot with the share program- That might've been better received than Season 10. Sparky could've been a shared fairy. Alas.

Okay, the chandelier in the helicopter being an inconvenience is a nice touch.

I'm dead (So are the animals).

Mmmm, the classmates are dunking on Dev for being "not cool." He's not even liked? Seriously, someone call Juandissimo- This kid is catnip for him.

#Riddle watches FOP #New Wish spoilers #Pending Hazel tag #Pending Dev tag #Dragonfly parents #screenshots #FAIRIES!#Jonathan Magnificent #Remy Buxaplenty

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word-wytch · 2 years ago

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Don't Stand So Close To Me — Chapter 5

Eddie x Teacher!Reader

Chapter 5/? 3.2k. Series Masterlist

✏︎ A lesson in rock history and the things you can say with a thumb.

✏︎ Series Summary: Forced to move back home to Hawkins after your fiancé cheats on you, you begin to fall in love again with an audacious 20 year old metalhead, only there’s one problem — he’s still in high school and you’re his English teacher.

While you struggle starting over in a place you never thought you would return, Eddie struggles feeling stuck in a place he can’t manage to leave — until you offer to help him. Of all the lessons learned, the most important are the ones you teach each other.

✏︎ Series CW: forbidden romance, slow burn, smut (18+ mdni), true love, internal conflict, student-teacher relationship, 10 year age gap, mutual pining, sexual tension, emotions, drama, angst, character development, happy ending :)

Chapter warnings: drinking mention

“Happy Monday!” chimed Ms. Click, fixing her coffee on the counter in the teacher’s lounge. “How was your weekend, sweetie?”

You turned to her as you nestled the glass coffee pot back onto the warmer. “Oh, you know. Just catching up on errands and chores. Same old, same old.” Oh, and wrestling with thoughts I really shouldn’t be having about my student. You figured it was best to leave that part out. Though if you were being totally honest you had done more of that than anything else this weekend. You couldn’t believe yourself.

“Oh I hear ya, it’s real easy for things like that to just take over. Pretty soon you feel like you’re just living the same week over and over again and then whoops! 20 years go by!” she said with a loud and slightly pained laugh.

You smiled weakly. “Yeah, time really does fly.”

“It does if you’re not careful! You’ve got to treasure every precious moment while you can,” she said, giving a gentle pat on your forearm before turning to leave.

“I try to,” you said, turning to open a new carton of milk for your coffee. You watched it swirl as you poured it in and thought about Eddie Munson again. You wondered what a what a weekend was like for him, what sort of trouble he might get into. You thought about him cruising down the road in his van at night, blasting his music and driving way over the speed limit — not a care in the world. You thought about being a passenger, about laughing with him as he took his hands off the wheel to play air guitar to a song you didn’t recognize.

“Hey!” she said Diane in a little whisper, waving her hand between you and your coffee.

You jolted upward and turned to her. “Oh hey! Sorry, I’m a total space cadet today apparently.”

“It’s Monday, you’re allowed,” she said with a warm chuckle. She leaned back against the coffee station. “Sooo, your birthday is on Friday. It’s the big 3-0 right? Have any plans?”

Yes, that. You hadn’t forgotten, though you secretly wished you had. “I’m shocked you remembered!”

“Well, birthdays are circled on the office calendar,” she said, folding her arms with a little smirk, “I can’t give myself that much credit, but we should really do something. It’s a big one.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Honestly I hadn’t given it much thought.”

“There’s always Pal Joey’s. At the very least I can bake you a cake and we can just get drunk together, right?” she said with a playful chuckle.

You laughed, “Yeah, I don’t need anything extravagant. Just something low key would be nice. Actually, I have a friend I haven’t seen since I moved back over the summer. She’s been busy with her small kids, I bet she’d appreciate getting out for a night.”

“That’s the spirit! Ok, got any preference for cake flavors?”

You thought for a moment, a smile playing on your lips as you brought a curved finger to them, “Surprise me.”

______

You set off down the main hallway like you did every morning, careful not to slosh the remainder of your coffee too hard as you walked. You dodged the usual obstacles — kids with headphones on not paying attention, couples leaning against their lockers, jocks giving a football a few passes before another teacher reprimanded them.

You were about halfway there when you smelled it — cigarette smoke. Not the sort of smoke left over on clothing, but actual active smoke coming from someone nearby. You glanced around to see if you could catch a plume and that was when you saw him.

You didn’t know his name but he must have been a junior at least. He was more than six feet tall, an athlete, as you could tell from varsity jacket he had on.

“Hey! No smoking in the hallway,” you said firmly as you approached him at the lockers.

He looked at you like you were a small child threatening to tattle on him. “Or what?”

“Or I’m giving you detention. Put it out, now.”

He rolled his eyes at you, “Ooh, so scary.” His friends around him chuckled.

You swallowed, feeling small all of a sudden. “I’m serious, put it out right now.”

“Jeez, calm down, bitch.” His friends erupted in laughter, practically tripping over themselves now.

Your eyes narrowed, heart beating into your throat.

“The fuck did you just call her?” a voice cut through from behind you.

You recognized it before you whipped your head around to see him. “Eddie —”

He marched up to the athlete in front of you. “Here, let me make it easier for you.” He snatched the cigarette out of his mouth and threw it on the ground to stomp it out. There were daggers in his eyes. “Say it again.”

He looked at Eddie with a mixture of shock and confusion. “Jeez since when are you a goody two-shoes, Munson?”

“Principal’s office, now,” you said, pointing at the athlete.

He rolled his eyes again. “You gonna have your pet escort me?”

You glanced over at Eddie, you could practically feel the heat coming off of him as he glowered behind you like a shadow. “No, I can do that myself, unless you’d rather have security escort you. Your choice.”

He sighed. “Fine, Jesus.”

“I can take it from here, Eddie. Thank you.”

He glanced back and forth between the two of you, looking hesitant. “If you say so,” he conceded softly.

You smiled at him with gracious eyes, then turned to the athlete. “Come on.”

Eddie bent down to grab the cigarette off the floor, his eyes did not leave you.

“I can take that,” you said, extending your hand.

He placed the flattened cigarette into your palm, slow enough for you to feel the calluses on his fingers as they lingered for a short moment. Yours curled around them just enough to brush the back of his knuckles as his hand left yours, as if they had a mind of their own. Your heart skipped a beat and you found the courage to meet his gaze again.

“Thank you.”

He bowed his head slightly, “Sure thing.” His eyes were dark and intense, like there was something more he wanted to say.

You swallowed and broke his gaze. “Alright, let’s get going before I’m late for my own class.”

You walked swiftly toward the principal’s office, the two of you silent in the noisy din of the hallway as the athlete kept pace reluctantly beside you. You were halfway down the hall when you felt the urge to glance over your shoulder.

Eddie was still standing where you left him, still as a statue amidst the chaos of the hallway, watching you with careful eyes.

______

Eddie watched you from the back of your fourth period English class, as he did every day.

He watched as you as you paced about, the way you leaned against the desk as you sifted through your notes. He noticed how thoughtfully you chose your words, how eloquently you spoke.

He wondered what you were like outside of school — what you would be like at a concert, a bar, a restaurant, a movie. He wondered what sort of observations you would make about the world around you. What sort of things you would want to talk about outside the strict confines of this building, outside your role in it. You were always so good at keeping the face you’d put on that morning. He wanted to see you without it.

Wanted to see you first thing in the morning, the sleep still in your eyes. Wanted to see you in pajamas making coffee. Wanted to feel the warmth of your skin still heated from your bed, to peer over your shoulder as you cooked your eggs, to tickle you until you turned around to kiss him.

“In chapters 13 though 15 we can see that he’s both too scared to call Jane and too scared to sleep with Sunny, even though deep down it seems he wants to. Holden alienates himself as a form of self-protection, which is a motif in the novel,” you explained. “A motif,” you scratched the word onto the board, “— is a recurring structure, contrast, or literary device that can help to inform the reader of the text’s major themes.”

You turned toward the board to finish writing the definition. It was then that Eddie saw Patrick’s arm extend behind him with a folded piece of paper that Jason promptly snatched.

You paused, glancing toward the back of the classroom at the movement.

Jason and Patrick froze like statues.

Your gaze lingered a moment, then you continued, turning toward the board again.

Eddie watched out of the corner of his eye as Jason opened the note slowly, trying to minimize the crinkle of the paper. He stifled a snicker and took his pen to it, scribbling in haste.

“Now, what are some other motifs that you may have noticed so far?” you asked, turning toward the class.

Jason froze again, sliding his notebook over the paper slowly, leaving some space to continue writing discreetly at the bottom.

Eddie felt his pulse rise and shot Jason a threatening glare.

Since when are you a goody two-shoes, Munson? The words rolled around in his head. As much as he hated to admit it, there was some truth to them.

The truth was that he had smoked in school before. More than once. The difference was he never got caught. He had been disrespectful on more than one occasion toward the faculty. He’d never called anyone names, but he’d certainly rolled his eyes, certainly given them a hard time. He’d sneak out, skip class, pass notes, run down the hallway — he even shot a spit ball at Gareth once, but only because he deserved it after flaking out on Hellfire because some girl invited him over to work on a project.

Jason caught Eddie’s glare and made a face at him, passing the note forward to Patrick who snickered when he opened it.

You whipped your head toward the back corner of the room and locked eyes with Patrick. “Excuse me, is something funny?”

Eddie’s eyes bored into his desk. He could feel the heat creeping up his neck.

“No ma’am, sorry,” said Patrick, straightening up.

Your eyes lingered a moment suspiciously but you let it go, sighing in annoyance as you turned back toward the board.

The note passing ceased after that.

It wasn’t until after the bell rang that both Jason and Patrick made eye contact with Eddie again. This time it was in the midst of laughter as they were leaving.

______

By the time Eddie Munson had plunked himself down in his usual spot on the other side of your desk, you were admittedly exhausted. You hated to be one of those pedestrian I hate Mondays people, but today really took it out of you for some reason.

Maybe it had something to do with the war you were waging in your mind over the man sitting across from you, but when you saw his sweet oval face again you felt the energy suddenly return to you, like a second wind. Like a breath of fresh air.

“Thank you for… intervening earlier today,” you said graciously as you filed away the papers on your desk, clearing the space.

Eddie gave a single nod. “I wanted to put it out on his face, but uh, pretty sure that’s also against the rules, so…” he said with a little chuckle.

Even behind his joking you could tell that he meant it. It stirred something in you, like a growling in the pit of your stomach. Something dormant and primal. You looked at his strong hands as he fidgeted with the pen in front of him, then your eyes traveled up to his forearms. He was wearing that flannel again with the sleeves rolled up and you wished you could ignore it, but instead you imagined what they would feel like wrapped protectively around your waist.

You cleared your throat and tucked your hair behind your ear. “Yeah, I’m afraid so,” you said with a little smile. “You know, you would think that after eight years of teaching I would be used to that sort of treatment but it still catches me off guard sometimes.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows curiously, “Eight years?” he asked. You could almost see him doing the math in his head.

Your stomach dropped. “Yeah, um, I actually turn 30 on Friday,” you said with a nervous chuckle.

Eddie balked, “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

He smirked, his eyes narrowing, “No way. I mean — sorry, it’s not a bad thing! It’s just hard to believe is all.”

“You want to see my drivers license?”

Eddie laughed, “No, no. It’s just that… you don’t seem like it to me. Not looks wise anyway. Maturity wise you’re probably closer to uh, 500 — you know, like an elf.”

You snorted. “Thanks. That’s so much better.”

“No, I mean like Arwen old, not Galadriel old,” he said, stumbling over himself. “Sorry I’ll stop, I’m a dumbass. It doesn’t matter. It’s just a number anyway.”

There was a strange relief that came over you when he said that, more than you wanted to admit to yourself.

You had to laugh. “Arwen old, now that’s something you don’t hear every day.”

“Well, take it as a compliment. I mean you’re —” he gestured to you, up and down with his hand, his eyes widening.

You knew what he was going to say. No, you wanted to think you knew, but did you really know? You knew you shouldn’t press but you wanted to hear it. Your mouth betrayed you. “I’m what?” you asked softly.

Eddie swallowed. “You’re…” he blinked, his dark eyes darting back and forth between yours. You could see the gears turning in his head, weighing the options of what to say next. “You’re timeless.”

Timeless. Now that was a word you were not expecting. Not too bold like beautiful, or cheap like pretty. You were tempted to commend him on his vocabulary choice.

“Timeless,” you said in quiet awe as a smile crept across your face. “I’ll take that.”

Eddie relaxed into his chair, seeming pleased with himself.

“Alright, what’s on the agenda for today?” There was a guilt that nagged at you for prompting such an intimate moment with your student, but then again, was he not the one who prompted it with his gesture? Still, it was your responsibility to be the bigger person, you knew that. And yet…

Eddie was doing well enough in your class. He was turning in his homework and did well on the last quiz. Today you decided to focus on History again since that seemed to be his biggest challenge, which meant that Eddie was now seated beside you — and that was another challenge.

Eddie Munson had a way of being around you that was hard to ignore. It was the way he looked at you from beneath his lashes, the way he almost put his shoulder behind yours as you both crowded over the textbook. You swore you weren’t imagining it.

It was when you pointed at a line in the text, the way he inched closer to it, turned his head toward you ever so slightly, his face inches from yours.

You could smell him again. The sweet musk of his skin, the soft scent of whatever he put in his hair. He was so close you could feel the gentle puff of his breath against your face. Your curious eyes dropped to his lips — so incredibly plush with a perfect cupid’s bow. Your animal brain betrayed you and you imagined, for just a split second, what they would feel like against yours. What he would taste like.

You cleared your throat, face flushing as you broke the tension. “So, did you do anything fun this weekend?”

There was a gleam in Eddie’s eyes. “Yeah, actually. Mercyful Fate was playing in Indianapolis on Saturday. Really good show.”

You nodded curiously, “Hmm, I’ve never heard of them.”

Eddie smirked, “Yeah, I figured not. I mean — most people haven’t unless they’re into metal. Which, I don’t want to make any assumptions, but…” he chuckled.

“You’re correct,” you said with a little laugh.

His eyes were tender, “What kind of music are you into?”

You hummed and glanced down at the textbook again thoughtfully, “Let’s see… I like all sorts of stuff. Older stuff like Van Morrison and Simon and Garfunkel, newer stuff like The Police and Tears for Fears. Oh and I love Joni Mitchell, especially Joni Mitchell. Her music is poetry, truly.”

Eddie hummed thoughtfully, “All good artists.”

“I mean I’m not opposed to metal. I just haven’t heard enough of it I guess. I do really like rock music, actually I love Led Zeppelin. I mean that’s not metal but,” you said in jest making the rock horn symbol with your hand.

Eddie laughed, eyes crinkling, looking at you like you were an adorable child who just said something funny. His hands came around yours impulsively, tucking your extended thumb in across your two middle fingers. “Like this,” he said sweetly.

You swallowed, face flushing. His hands were so warm, the softness of his palms surprised you. They lingered for a moment, clutching your hand before letting go to demonstrate.

“This,” he formed the symbol with his hand, “Means rock. This?” extended his thumb, “Means ‘I love you’ in sign language.”

You chuckled, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Rookie mistake I guess.”

“It’s ok, it’s a common one. It’s not exactly been around for that long. Dio was actually the one who started doing it like five or so years ago. See, he’s super Italian and his grandma would do it like this as a sort of… spell, I guess, to keep the evil eye away.” He demonstrated, pointing his horns at you. “But then Dio kept doing it on stage, sort of adapted it into a symbol for rock.”

You nodded curiously, “See, you’re teaching me something now.”

He smiled, “I do know a few things, might not exactly be useful things, but…”

“All knowledge is useful. In fact I think it’s a shame that we place so much value on grades. I mean honestly, most of this stuff you’re not even going to need to know to get through life. I can tell you that for a fact. I mean I know I’m not supposed to be saying that, but…”

Eddie nodded, his eyes were soft and distant. “I wish more people thought like you.”

You could feel the heat rushing to your face again. You met his eyes and smiled softly.

You turned your attention back to the history textbook. After another twenty minutes, when it was clear that your attention spans were starting to wane, you called it for the evening.

You and Eddie left together again, out to the parking lot through the shortcut by the gym. Not a soul in sight in the hallway. He held the door open for you as you left.

Eddie was parked next to you this time.

“See you tomorrow,” you said, waving at him over the top of your little car as you unlocked it. The autumn wind kicked up, tousling your hair and scattering leaves across the parking lot.

“See ya,” he said, throwing open the door to his van.

He flashed you the rock horns again — thumb extended.

______

A/N: I just wanted to take this moment to thank every single one of my incredible readers — you guys. Every person who comments and shares each week, even the people who don't. I see your little hearts and it fills me with such joy. I am so lucky to have such a thoughtful audience that I can engage with and gush about my story with in real time. You make me feel like Charles Dickens.

My hope for this story is that it can reach as large an audience as possible, so if you can help me do that by sharing it, I would be endlessly grateful. I love you guys. 💚

Quick side note — if you don't see your name listed here but asked to be tagged it's because it would not let me tag you and I wanted to make room for the tags that are working!! tumblr only lets me tag a certain number of people so the list will be continued in the comments!

Taglist: @mermaidsandcats29 @toxicjayhoo @ooo-protean-ooo @jadequeen88 @wroteclassicaly @inknopewetrust @msgexymunson @bebe0701 @latenighttalkingwithgrapejuice @bibieddiesgf @idkidknemore @alizztor @godcreatoreli @shotgunhallelujah @ethereal27cereal @munsonsgirl71 @luna-munson83 @eddiemunsonsbitcch @tlclick73 @emxxblog @siriusmuggle @sidthedollface2 @dollalicia @lma1986 @catherinnn @maximizedrhythms @eddiemunson4life420 @readsalot73 @ruby-dragon @3rriberri @princess-eddie @nightless @eddiemunson011 @eddieswifu @thew0rldsastage @quinnsfineline @chaoticgood-munson @edsforehead @hanahkatexo @eddiemunsonsbedroom @chainsawmunson @beep-beep-sherlock @emily-roberts @averagemisfit03 @slay-and-gay @vintagehellfire @haylaansmi @newlips @munsins @sllooney @lunaladybug734

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson older reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x teacher!reader #don't stand so close to me #my writing

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sagesolsticewrites · 2 months ago

Text

Love’s Light Wings: Chapter 2 (“The course of true love never did run smooth”)

John Brady x Juliet Thompson (OFC)

Job interviews, wedding planning, and first meetings, oh my! John and Jules navigate his homecoming and start planning for their future while reckoning with the impact the past two years have had. Juliet finally puts a face to a name regarding a certain dear pen pal, along with several other new friends.

Word count: 6.4k

Warnings: description of a panic attack and PTSD symptoms (please let me know if there's anything I missed!)

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Hugest of huge shoutouts to @winniemaywebber and @blakelysco-pilot for reading this many many times before I posted it; our girls are finally together! 🥹 I love y’all 💕

Masterlist | Prologue | Chapter 1

Juliet wakes, as she always does these days, with a smile.

It’s been around two weeks since her Johnny came home— two wonderful weeks since he’d proposed in the back garden— and she’d loved every second. John had been settling back into life at home in sleepy Victor, New York, taking the time to grieve the friends he’d lost overseas and process the passing of his father, happy to have his mother fussing over him while he took a break before resuming the search for a job.

Juliet had indeed asked around as promised and found that Victor High School was in the market for a second music teacher— poor Mr. Brown was getting overwhelmed with the class load and was looking forward to some help. So today, John had an interview with the principal, and Juliet was coming along to introduce him.

Beaming, she rolls out of bed to get ready for the day. Once her face is washed and she’s donned her favorite light green shirtwaist dress, she races to her vanity for her new favorite part of her morning routine: slipping on her engagement ring.

A warm wave of joy rushes through her feeling the subtle weight of it on her finger, the emerald and two tiny diamonds sparkling in the sunlight.

She skips downstairs once she’s deemed herself presentable, greeting her parents with a kiss on the cheek.

“Good morning,” her mother laughs, “you’re certainly in a good mood today.”

“It’s a good day,” Juliet shrugs, trying to downplay her excitement.

“Because you get to see John?”

“Yes…” she drags out at her mother’s knowing look, unable to hide her smile, “And because of my lunch date with the girls, remember?”

“Oh yes,” her father laughs from his place at the table, “How could we forget?” In a more sincere tone, he continues, “I hope you plan on thanking Olive for all her letters when you meet her.”

“Of course, Daddy,” Juliet replies, “She was such a wonderful friend to have when Johnny was…”

She trails off, then clears her throat, continuing with an unbothered smile.

“And I can’t wait to meet Val, she sounded like quite the character in Olive's letters.”

“You’ll be home in time for dinner, yes?”

“Yes, mama, I will.”

Breakfast passes quickly with quiet conversation, and promptly at 10 o’clock there’s a knock at the door.

Juliet jumps up from her chair with a squeal, racing to the front door. She pauses, taking a moment to brush any wrinkles from her dress and adjust her favorite brooch before opening the door to a smiling John Brady.

“Hi sweetheart.”

Butterflies flurry to life in her stomach as he leans in to press a chaste kiss to her cheek, mindful of her parents nearby.

“Hi, Johnny,” she smiles, “You look very nice, honey.”

Her boy preens in that shy way he does whenever she compliments him, stepping into the foyer.

“And you look lovely as always, Jules.” He nods to her parents lingering in the hall with a smile, “Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Thompson.”

Greetings are exchanged, going over the schedule once more— interview, then John will drop Juliet off at the station so she can take the train into town for her lunch, he’ll be driving into town later to meet up with his fellow members of the 100th and dropping Juliet at home promptly at dinnertime.

Juliet’s parents wish John luck, reminding them to be safe, her mother urging her to say hello to all of the girls for her, and with some difficulty they manage to get out the door and into the car.

“You have your resume?”

John’s lips twitch slightly as he holds back a soft laugh, nodding to the glovebox, “Yes, dear—”

“And your c—”

“— and my cover letter, yes. As well as a few references.” He looks fondly over at his fiancée, “I have done this before, honey.”

“I know,” Juliet flushes a rosy pink, “I know, I just— I want to help in any way I can, Johnny.”

“You are helping, Jules,” he assures her, reaching to clasp her hand in his, thumb stroking gently over the back of it, “You’re introducing me to the new principal, you absolutely didn’t have to do that.”

“I want to,” she insists, “And besides, someone has to come in there and show you off,” she teases sweetly, “Knowing you, you’ll be the humble gentleman you always are and downplay all your experience.”

His lips quirk up into a smile reminiscing on his time as a teacher, which had come to an end when he enlisted after the Pearl Harbor attacks.

“Ah yes, my whole one semester of experience.”

“Hey,” she scolds at his sarcastic tone, “One semester is more than most people wanting this job have.” Her tone softens, giving his hand a gentle squeeze, “You’ve got this, Johnny.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

Upon arriving at the school, Juliet directs him to the principal’s office, occupied by a man who seems to be about the same age as her father. The two exchange a friendly greeting, Juliet turning on her brilliant, most charming smile as she turns to her fiancé, making the brief introductions and subtly slipping in a comment about how John’s “looking forward to being back.”

“Well, I’ll let you two talk,” she smiles demurely, slipping quietly out the door and clicking it closed behind her.

An hour later, a familiar figure stands in the doorway of her classroom where she’d decided to make some progress on her curriculum preparations. Looking up, she can barely hold back a squeal.

“Johnny! How did it go?”

His smile tells her everything she needs to know, even as he says, “I think it went really, really well. Mr. Asher said I should hear from them in a few days with their decision.”

She flings her arms around him, beaming.

“I knew they’d see how amazing you are. We’ll be working together again!”

“Honey, did you hear the part where I have to wait a few days to hear their decision?”

“That’s just a formality, Johnny,” she assures him as they begin the walk back to the car, “If I know Mr. Asher, he wanted to give you the job right away.”

Her fiancée just laughs, pulling her close to press a kiss to her temple as he opens the door for her.

He drops her off at the station with a kiss and a “Say hi to Olive and Val for me— they’ll love you, honey, I promise,” and she passes the time quickly with the paperback tucked into her purse.

At the station, Juliet scans the crowd for her friends— despite her protests, they’d insisted they meet her there and walk to lunch together.

She grins as she spots Jo and Jean standing with two other women, racing towards them.

“Jo! Hi darling!” She says, flinging her arms around her friends, “And Mrs. Croz, looking lovely as always.”

“Thank you, honey,” Jean laughs.

“So good to see you, Jules.” Jo beams, and then her attention turns to the stylish brunette standing beside her, “This is—”

“Val DiRosano,” the woman beams, reaching over for a handshake, which Jules ignores as she goes in for a hug.

“So wonderful to meet you at last, Val.” She says, “I’ve heard nothing but wonderful things from Johnny.”

“I should hope so,” she grins, green eyes sparkling as she gestures towards the woman beside her, “Same here, from both Brady and Olive.”

The sweet brown-haired, hazel-eyed girl gives Juliet a wave.

“Hi, Jules,” she says softly, her accented voice a surprise to Juliet’s ears, “So happy to finally meet you.”

A wave of emotion wells up in Juliet as she recalls the dozens of letters she’d exchanged with the girl before her, pouring out her worries about John, her dreams for when the war was over, essays pages long in which they rambled about Shakespeare, eagerly forming a friendship on countless sheets of paper. She recalled the two letters she’d gotten on that awful October day— one from her friend wishing her the happiest of birthdays, no doubt informed by Johnny, the other in which Olive somberly informed her that her boy had gone down, with a promise— soon fulfilled— that she’d write as soon as she had any more news. This was the girl who had talked her through some of the most horrible months of her life an ocean away, and before she knows it, Juliet is moving to pull Olive into a tight hug, tears welling up in her eyes.

“I’m so, so happy to meet you,” she murmurs, “Thank you for—” she swallows around the sudden lump in her throat, her voice tight, “for everything.”

Olive’s arms squeeze around her just as fiercely.

“Of course, darling.” She whispers, “I wish I could’ve done more—”

“No,” Juliet insists, “You were a lifeline when I needed one most, and I’ll never be able to thank you enough for it.”

With one final squeeze, the girls separate, matching teary smiles on their faces.

“Well,” Juliet giggles, trying to lighten the mood as she brushes her tears away, “I knew you were a Brit, but somehow the accent was still a surprise.”

“It was for me, too,” Val laughs.

“It seems I’m just surprising in general,” Olive smiles, “Now come on, ladies, I’m starving.”

They soon find themselves seated in a booth at a sweet little diner, laughing like they’ve known each other their whole lives.

“No, really! Baseball superstar Val over here decided to take over entertaining Meatball and threw it right into the briefing room!”

“You know I didn’t mean to!” Val laughs, “And besides, Chicky wasn’t too mad at us.”

“Chicky?” Jean’s brow furrows, Jo mirroring her confused expression, and Olive snorts.

“Her little nickname for Colonel Chick Harding.”

“Wha—?”

“Oh please, I know he liked it no matter how many times he complained,” Val laughs, tucking away a stray hair behind her ear.

It’s then that Juliet catches a glimpse of a lovely emerald ring glinting in the light.

“Oh Val!,” she gushes, “That ring is gorgeous.”

“Oh! Thank you,” the girl seems to go soft as she glances down at her left hand, and the girls swoon as she recounts the story of Everett Blakely’s proposal, a wide smile lighting up her dignified face.

“That’s so sweet,” Juliet says, pressing a hand to her heart, and the other girls lean in to examine it as Val holds her hand out proudly.

“Wait, Jules, we haven’t gotten to see yours yet!”

Jo was right, Jules realized, she had phoned her and Jean as soon as she could to gush about John’s proposal, but in the excitement of meeting Olive and Val, actually showing them the ring as she’d promised had slipped her mind.

She politely waits until the girls are done ooohing and aaahing over Val’s exquisite ring to extend her own for inspection.

Olive’s eyes nearly bug out of her head.

“Juliet Thompson, Brady proposed and you didn’t tell me!”

“I’m telling you now!” Juliet laughs, “It was such a surprise… apparently he asked my parents for permission the night he came home,” she says, visibly softening at the memory, “and the next day he was down on one knee in our back garden with his grandmother’s ring.” She locks eyes with Olive, knowing she’ll appreciate this next part as she squeals, “He quoted Tempest.”

Olive lets out an outright gasp, “He did not!”

She nods fervently, beaming, “I would not wish—”

Olive finishes the quote with her, “— any companion in the world but you! Oh, that’s lovely, Jules.”

Val grins as she examines Juliet’s ring, extending her hand next to hers so the two emeralds are sparkling in the light.

“Brady’s got good taste, I see.”

“Looks like your Everett does, too,” Juliet laughs.

“Well of course he does,” Val says with a playful toss of her hair, “He’s with me, isn’t he?”

Jean lets out a happy sigh, her gaze scanning over the girls huddled together in the booth.

“It’s so wonderful that we’re all together now, isn’t it?”

“Almost all of us,” Jules reminds her kindly, “Vika wasn’t able to get away from the hotel— but she promised she’ll be at our next little get-together.”

“Vika?” Olive asks, the unfamiliar name having piqued her interest.

“One of my school friends,” Juliet replies, the glow of happiness surrounding her seeming to intensify, “We drifted apart a bit after graduation, but we’ve since reconnected and it’s been wonderful.”

“She’s been a darling addition to our little group here, you two will absolutely adore her,” Jean assures Olive and Val.

Jo, Jean, and Juliet fill Olive and Val in about their time spent with Vika, as if trying to fill the space where she should be.

“I can’t wait to meet her,” Val says, red lips turned up into a sweet smile, “She sounds lovely.”

They talk for hours, though it seems like no time has passed at all when John enters the diner, scanning the room for Juliet, followed by several other men.

“Oh goodness, is it that time already?” Juliet glances at her watch as her fiancé makes his way over to their little booth.

“Hi sweetheart,” John says, bending down to press a chaste kiss to her cheek, then nodding to the rest of the girls, “Ladies. Olive, Val, very good to see you again.”

“Wonderful to see you, Brady.” Val grins.

“Congratulations, by the way,” Olive says in a mock-offended tone, “I can't believe I had to wait two entire weeks to find out you proposed, Brady.”

The smile on his face stretches into a wide grin, seeing right through the act, “Well, you’re all invited to the wedding, will that be enough to make it up to you?”

“I suppose, “ Olive replies with a smile, her eyes going soft as her gaze drifts to the blue-eyed mustachioed man standing next to Brady, “Hi, honey.”

“Hey, Ollie,” the man replies sweetly, sliding into the booth next to her, then turning back to Brady, gesturing to the little group gathered around, “So, Brady, you gonna introduce us?”

With a good-natured roll of his eyes, John settles next to Juliet in the booth, gesturing between her and the boys.

“Gentlemen, this is my fiancée. Juliet.”

She gives him a tender smile, a swell of warmth rushing through her at her name on his lips alongside fiancée, though she soon remembers her manners and turns her attention back to the men, the names of whom John is currently listing— she had heard lots about them from the girls, but seeing them and putting faces to names was another thing entirely.

Rosie Rosenthal— the man Jo had been worrying over for months since he signed up for a second tour— gives her a kind smile, mustache twitching upwards. Harry Crosby— Jean’s beloved Bing— a softspoken man with kind brown eyes, greets her with a “Pleasure to meet you.” Everett Blakely beams, reaching over to greet her with a firm handshake, hazel eyes sparkling as he tells her how happy he is to finally meet the girl “Brady wouldn’t shut up about”, the comment bringing a blush to her cheeks. James Douglass— the man settled next to Olive, blue eyes bright and happy— perks up at her name.

“So I have you to thank for the Shakespeare lessons!”

“Yes, I’m glad they came in handy,” Juliet laughs, glancing pointedly at Olive. In one of his early letters, Johnny had asked for some of her particular favorite passages to pass on to Dougie in an attempt to help him woo Olive, and she was happy to see that they had helped— especially after she’d heard about the “I hope” incident.

“I mean, I don’t think I was that bad before, but—”

“‘I hope,’ sweetheart.”

“You are never gonna let that go, are you Ollie?”

“Never,” Olive beams, her smile matching the one on Dougie’s face.

The introductions quickly turn into another hour of talking before Juliet realizes how much time has passed. After a series of rushed goodbyes and long hugs, John ushers her into the car to begin the drive back upstate.

“Well? What did you think?”

“Of your friends? Johnny, they’re all wonderful,” Juliet smiles, “I'm so looking forward to getting to know them more. And Olive and Val! I feel like I’ve known them forever.”

She turns smiling to look out the window at the blur of trees passing by, green eyes turned golden in the setting sun.

“Yes, I think we’ll all be very good friends.”

“It was nice of Benny to offer to escort Vika home,” John observes a week later on their way home from their informal engagement party— they had gathered all of their friends at one of their favorite restaurants in the city, with the addition of Benny DeMarco and Juliet’s dear friend Ruthvika Patel— formerly “Ruthie”, now “Vika” thanks to the encouragement of the girls.

“Well of course he did,” Juliet laughs, “He’s absolutely smitten.” She sighs happily, “I knew he’d like her.”

“Really? How could you tell?”

“Are you joking, honey? He could hardly take his eyes off her the whole time,” she reaches over to poke him playfully, “Very similar to a certain someone I met in college.”

“Wha—? Okay, I was not that obvious…” John glances over at her, “Was I?”

“A little bit.”

“Well anyway,” he glosses over this revelation entirely, “I know DeMarco, if he likes her that much he’ll be asking her out in no time.”

“No, I hope he takes his time,” Juliet says, “Vika’s shy, and I don’t think she’s ever been in a relationship before. It’ll be better if they get to know each other as friends first.”

“Well, it’ll be interesting to see how it goes. They seemed to be getting along.”

“We’ll see if there’s any progress next week.”

“Next week?”

“Remember, your golf game with the boys? The girls and I are going shopping for the wedding while you all are out.”

“Shopping? But I thought you already had a dress, honey.”

Juliet shoots him a look.

“I need other things besides a dress, my love.”

“Of course, of course,” John says, holding one hand up in surrender, “I hope you girls have fun.”

“Thank you, honey.” Her tone is sincere as she reaches to intertwine her fingers, the car slowing as they pull up to the Thompson home.

“Hey,” he murmurs, turning to face her, “I love you.”

Her heart goes soft as he leans in to press a tender kiss to her mouth, pulling away just enough to meet her eyes.

“And I can’t wait to marry you.”

“I love you so much,” Juliet says softly, leaning in for another quick kiss, lingering as their eyes meet before she reluctantly slips out of the car, “I’ll see you soon, honey.”

“Oh!” She calls, pausing as she makes her way up the front walk, “Do you still want help with putting together those lesson plans?”

“I'd love that,” he smiles, “Come over tomorrow? I know my mother would love to see her future daughter-in-law.”

“Yes! I can’t wait to catch up with her,” Juliet replies, lighting up at the prospect of seeing Mrs. Alice Brady.

John shakes his head, “Sometimes I wonder if you’re marrying me just to get to her.”

“Oh no, you caught me,” Juliet laughs, “What can I say, honey? We bonded.”

He chuckles, giving his fiancée a fond smile, “I’m glad you two get along so well. See you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow,” she confirms, blowing one last kiss his way before making her way inside, John only pulling away once the door is closed behind her.

One week— and one delightful visit to Mrs. Alice Brady— later, she and John are once again driving into the city.

“What are you girls shopping for again?”

“Just some accessories. And Jean said she was looking for a new dress— oh, and Olive wanted to stop by a bookstore at some point if there’s time—”

The corner of his smile twitches, just barely holding back a fond laugh, but all her fiancé says is, “Sounds like you have quite the day planned. I can’t wait to hear all about it.”

“Careful what you wish for, sweetheart,” Juliet laughs, “The girls and I will be talking your ear off at dinner.”

“I’ll tell the fellas to be prepared.”

“You girls have fun!”

“We’ll meet you for dinner at 6, alright?”

Juliet, Jo, Jean, Val, and Olive all wave off their respective men— and Vika shyly waves off Benny— with promises that they’d be at the restaurant at the agreed-upon time.

The boys went off to their golf game, and the girls drag Juliet along the bustling New York streets for the most important shopping day of her life.

“Oh Jules, look at that!” Jean gushes from her place beside her friend, pointing to a lace and tulle fascinator displayed in a boutique window.

Giggling, they descend upon the boutique, searching through the merchandise with girlish delight.

“Remind me, what does your dress look like, Jules?” Jo asks, picking through a selection of white gloves.

“Mama’s fixing up her own dress for me,” Juliet says with a wistful sigh, “I’ve always loved it. Ivory satin, gorgeous full skirt, pearls on the bodice…”

“Oh, it sounds lovely,” Val smiles, “Don’t you think, Vika?”

Vika glances up from where she’s fiddling with the lace of a fascinator, looking almost surprised to be included in the conversation even after several months of being embraced as a part of their little group.

“Hm? Oh!” She smiles shyly, “Yes, it sounds beautiful, Jules.”

“Oooh, what about this?” Olive holds up a truly ostentatious floral headdress bursting with tulle, “It’ll go perfectly with your bouquet.”

“I think that might be a bit much for Johnny.” Juliet laughs, glancing to make sure the woman who’d greeted them as they walked in is still busy helping another customer before whispering, “Is that what people wear to weddings in the future?”

“Not quite,” Olive giggles, “But you’re right, let’s find something else.”

“Jules,” Vika calls from a secluded corner of the store, “What about this?”

Juliet and Olive exchange a glance and follow her voice to the rest of the girls examining a selection of hats. Vika is standing next to a sweet ivory pillbox hat, a tulle veil attached at the top beneath a cluster of pearls.

Juliet is speechless.

“Isn’t it perfect?” Vika asks, brown eyes sparkling.

“It is,” Juliet squeals, rushing over to pick it up.

The girls cluster around a nearby mirror as she tries it on, and squeals of “gorgeous!” and “oh, you look beautiful, Jules!” echo out from their little corner of the boutique, tapering off awkwardly at the glares of the other customers.

Juliet laughs as she takes it off, then blanches when she sees the price tag.

“Well… it is gorgeous, but maybe we can find something else.” She says regretfully as she places it back on the display.

“What? No!” Jean frowns, “Honey, you’ve waited so long for this, you deserve it!”

“Jean, you’re sweet, but I just don’t have enough to be spending like that right now,” Juliet explains, “Come on, I’m sure we can find another option.”

Even as she says it and turns away, her eyes drift longingly back to the hat waiting on the shelf, settling there for just a moment before Juliet shakes herself and begins wandering back through the store.

There’s a series of whispers behind her, which Juliet assumes is the girls figuring out which section to peruse next, and the future Mrs. Brady finds herself back in front of the fascinators, trying to muster up the same enthusiasm she had when she first walked in.

“Jules?” Vika’s voice comes from behind her, and she jumps.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” Her friend says apologetically, “ But, well… I think we’re ready to go if you are.”

Juliet turns, seeing the girls clustered behind Vika with poorly hidden smiles and a small hatbox held in Jean’s arms.

“Oh girls, you didn’t…”

“We all chipped in.” Jo beams.

“You deserve it, chicken,” Olive says, “It’s your wedding.”

A swell of emotion rises in Juliet’s chest, and it’s all she can do to squeak out a soft “I love you girls” before pulling them into a group hug.

“So do the two of you have a plan for after the wedding?” Jo asks as they stroll down to yet another boutique.

“I’m sure they do,” Olive says, eyebrows waggling.

“Oh hush!” Jo scolds with a playful swat to Olive’s arm, “Not like that. Jules, you know what I mean.”

Juliet nods, the blush at Olive’s comment fading in favor of a brilliant smile threatening to overtake her.

“There’s the sweetest little house for sale a few streets away from us,” she gushes, “Johnny’s been saving up, and his mother and my parents have offered to pitch in as well.”

“That’s very kind of them,” Jean says, “I can’t imagine how excited you must be— I remember how much I was looking forward to starting a life with Bing.”

“I am…”

Despite the joy in her voice, Juliet’s smile has dimmed the slightest bit.

“I am, it’s just…”

The girls pause, identical frowns on their faces as they drift over to an awning over a dark storefront and wait patiently for Juliet to find the words.

“Sometimes it doesn’t feel real?” She finally says, her voice distant and soft, fingers worrying at the ring snug on her finger, “Like… like I’m in this wonderful dream, and at some point I’m going to wake up and he’ll be back in that place, and I’m alone again—”

“Oh, honey.”

Jo and Jean are the first to wrap their arms around her, the ones who know exactly how she feels— even after all the hoping and praying that their boys would come home safe, they knew that once they were home it took time to remember they were home for good now, that they were finally allowed to stop worrying and focus on the future ahead.

The girls said as much as they held their friend, trying to impart as much comfort as they could.

“Oh goodness,” Jules lets out a watery laugh, carefully brushing away the tears threatening to spill over and doing her best not to smudge her makeup, “I’m sorry, girls, this was supposed to be a fun day…”

“No, Jules, you have nothing to apologize for,” Olive assures her, “We’re all adjusting to life now that the war’s over, this is part of it. You and John will work through what you have to and build a beautiful life together, I just know it.”

Juliet shoots a grateful smile at the girls surrounding her, gratitude for the friendships they’d formed in such a dark time warming her to her core.

With one final squeeze, she returns to the subject that had gotten them on this path as they continue onward.

“You all absolutely have to come over once we’re all moved in, I’m dying to play hostess for you girls…”

They arrive at dinner promptly at six, the boys already waiting outside for them.

“Did you boys have a good time?” Juliet asks, already beaming as she brushes a chaste kiss to her fiancé’s lips.

“We did,” he smiles into the kiss, “How was your shopping trip? Can I have a peek?”

He makes a show of trying to peek into the hatbox in Juliet’s hands as she playfully swats him away.

“Absolutely not, John Brady, this is for mine and the girls’ eyes only until the wedding.”

“As you wish,” he says, the teasing sparkle in his eyes visibly softening at the mention of their wedding, “I know you’ll look beautiful no matter what, sweetheart.”

She rewards his tender words with another kiss as girls store their purchases safely in their respective vehicles, and the group heads in for dinner.

As promised, the girls chatter away about their shopping day, the boys doing their best to look interested, and vice versa when the topic turns to the boys’ golf game. The one quieter spot at the table is thanks to Benny and Vika— despite the orchestrations of Val and Jules to have them sit together, the two of them are still too shy to do more than say hello to each other when they’re surrounded by the excited conversation of their friends.

Jules catches Val hiss something in Italian to Benny, to which he hisses something in return and redirects his attention to Rosie’s story about the fifth hole.

“How are they doing?” John whispers in her ear, his eyes flicking over to their mostly silent friends.

She shakes her head.

“Looks like still nothing yet,” she whispers back, “but Vika made it sound like they had a very nice time on the way back from the engagement dinner… oh I do wish they’d just talk to each other already.”

“Benny’ll come around,” he assures her, the comforting weight of his hand coming to rest on her knee— nothing improper of course, just letting her know he’s there.

Dinner flies by, aided by laughter and easy conversation, and before she knows it, her Johnny’s dropping her off back at home.

“You’re sure I can’t have just one tiny peek?” He whines once more as he shifts the car into park and she retrieves the hatbox from the backseat.

“No, Johnny,” Juliet replies, doing her best to bite back her smile in an attempt to look scolding and failing utterly, “I promise you’ll see it soon.”

“Soon,” he hums, reaching over to give her hand a squeeze and then tugging her in for a tender kiss.

It’s her turn to beam as he pulls away, warmth filling her as she realizes how soon soon really is.

Still, all she says is “I love you, drive safe, give my love to your mother,” before heading inside her childhood home, a piece of her future tucked inside the box in her arms.

It’s a balmy Saturday afternoon when Juliet takes the car to visit the Brady home. Wedding planning on top of both John and her planning for the upcoming school year has meant their time together is painfully limited, no matter how they try to find time to work together, and frankly? Juliet misses him.

So, an impromptu visit it is.

Armed with a tupperware of her mother’s chocolate chip cookies, she strides up the walk and knocks three times on the blue door, beaming as it opens to reveal Mrs. Alice Brady.

But instead of her usual cheerful smile, John’s mother seems more anxious than she’s seen her since John came home, and concern starts to whirl in the pit of Juliet’s stomach.

“Hello, Mrs. Brady, I— oh. Is everything alright?”

“Hello, sweetheart,” Mrs. Brady puts on a far weaker version of her usual smile, “I’m sorry, John’s… he isn’t doing too well at the moment, honey—”

“What happened?” Juliet interrupts, her mind jumping to the worst possible scenarios.

Mrs. Brady appears torn, her mouth soundlessly opening and closing until she finally speaks again.

“He was helping me organize his father’s study… I— I dropped a book clearing off one of the bookshelves, and—” she takes a breath, forcing herself to continue, “He seems fine physically for the most part, but…” there’s a hint of fear in her eyes as she continues hesitantly, and the pit in Jules’s stomach grows, “he was shaking, he looked terrified, and I couldn’t… I couldn’t get him to recognize me.”

Jules’s hand flies to her mouth, doing her best to comprehend the situation.

“He seemed to be having some kind of attack, but I can’t help but think…” Alice Brady’s eyes meet Juliet’s, almost pleading now, “Maybe seeing you might help?”

”I… are you sure?”

“Absolutely, Juliet.” Mrs. Brady nods, “He may have missed me, but it wasn’t me he was fighting to come home to so he could propose. I have a feeling you’ll be able to help him through this in a way I can’t.”

With one last sad flicker of a smile, John’s mother leads Juliet through the house to the study that used to belong to Mr. Brady.

Her heart drops as she sees John crouched in a defensive position, blue eyes wild and unseeing, his breaths shallow as his eyes dart around the room looking for some unknown threat.

“Johnny,” she breathes, willing her voice not to break as she approaches him slowly. “Sweetheart?”

He stiffens at the sound but still doesn’t seem to recognize her and it’s breaking her heart to see him like this.

“Johnny,” she breathes again, using slow steady movements to crouch in front of him, “It’s me, honey, it’s Juliet. Your Jules.”

Maybe touching him would help—

It decidedly does not, as he flinches away from her, a sharp, gruff “no!” escaping him when she places a hand on his arm as if she’d brandished a gun in front of him.

Okay, different tactic.

“Can you look at me, Johnny?” She tries, pulling back and thinking for a moment before slowly brushing her fingertips to his.

It’s a soft enough touch that it doesn’t startle him, but it still hasn’t pulled him out of… whatever this attack is.

“Please—” she swallows, trying to keep her voice steady as she slowly, inch by inch, threads their fingers together, “Please, Johnny, it’s me, it’s Jules, please look at me—”

He’s still shaking, but his shallow breathing is slowly returning to normal as he blinks, eyes focusing once more on what’s in front of him.

“Johnny?” She says softly, squeezing his hand gently, trying to ground him.

“Jules?” He breathes distractedly, as if labeling the person in front of him rather than speaking to her.

And then the realization hits, and there’s a sharp inhale as he jerks away.

“Oh, God— oh, God, no, you shouldn’t have— when did you—”

“Sweetheart, are you alright?” She asks frantically, trying to get him to meet her eyes.

He’s shaking his head frantically, “What are you doing here, you weren’t supposed to— you can’t see me like this—”

It’s that last part that hits her. That makes her realize this isn’t the first time this has happened.

“This… Johnny, this has happened before?”

“It’s nothing,” he practically spits, refusing to meet her eyes, “just… remembering things from that place, I’m— I’m working on it, I swear.”

That place, she knows, is the stalag. Neither of them have been able to say the word yet, but a trailed off sentence or indeed, that place, shoved in just the right spot and they know what the other means.

“My love,” Juliet says hesitantly, having some idea of what his reaction to this suggestion will be. Still, she persists.

“If you feel like you need to talk about it— I don’t know what happened, but—”

Johnny’s definitely avoiding her eyes now as he says in a low, forceful tone— his voice is distant still, but not as if it’s lost in memory in some far off place, no; this is the detached voice of someone shoving their emotions deep, deep down— “We were stuck there for… for far too long. It wasn’t good. Now I’m home. That’s it.”

Juliet nods, recognizing when to step back even as she murmurs, “I know, sweetheart. But if you ever do want to talk about it… I’m here. I don’t want you to worry about scaring me or anything,” she adds, knowing that that’s at least part of why he avoids this topic with her, “All that matters is that we work through this together. Whenever you’re ready.”

He gives her a wordless nod, and the two of them are left to sit in silence, hands intertwined, until Mrs. Brady comes bustling in with a glass of water.

“Oh, thank goodness,” she breathes a sigh of relief once she sees her son, promptly fussing over him “Are you alright, sweetheart? Here, drink this— let’s get you settled in the chair here—”

John is moved to a soft, squishy dark green armchair nearby, doing his best to calm his mother’s nerves.

“I’m fine, Ma, I promise—”

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart, me and my butterfingers did this—”

“Ma, it’s not your fault, really—”

“Mrs. Brady,” Juliet interrupts, gently placing a hand over Mrs. Brady’s nervously fluttering ones, “he’s okay. It’s alright.”

John's mother lets out a long exhale, taking a moment before giving Juliet’s hands a grateful squeeze. “Yes. Thank you, darling.”

“Always,” Juliet smiles, her demeanor softening as her gaze drifts from Alice to John.

Always. She’s about to start her always with him, and if she’s honest? It’s a little nerve wracking, thinking about that after what just happened. Not in a bad way, of course, just… it’s going to be an adjustment, navigating what her Johnny brought back from the war with him.

He made it back, she reminds herself, that’s all that matters.

They’ll work through what they have to, like Olive said, and then… she has forever to be with him. Home and safe and together.

“You alright, sweetheart?” John murmurs, brows furrowing at her silence.

She blinks, then gives him a smile that she hopes conveys even an ounce of the love she feels for him right now.

“I’m fine, Johnny,” she assures him, “I just remembered I brought cookies. And you look like you could use one.”

“The chocolate chip ones your mother makes?” John brightens, eyes lighting up like a child in a candy store.

“They’re in the kitchen, I’ll get them,” Mrs. Brady chimes in, leaving them to try to smother their giggles as they catch a mumble of “as if he didn’t eat the last of my snickerdoodles just yesterday, this boy…”

The moment his mother is gone, John wordlessly draws her into his lap, his arms wrapping around her and squeezing ever so slightly

“You sure you’re alright, darling?” Juliet asks, snuggling into him as he pulls her close..

The smile that greets her as she looks up at him isn’t quite the same one that she knew before he was shipped off. It isn’t stretched quite so wide, doesn’t reach his eyes in the same way.

But she smiles back just the same as he assures her, “I’m perfect, Jules.”

“Now, are you sure you’re alright?”

She takes a moment to consider it and decides that right here, in her fiancé’s arms, mere weeks from marrying him…

“I’m perfect, too, Johnny.”

#drinking game idea: take a shot every time i use an em dash #(don't you'll die of alcohol poisoning)#my girl is BACK babey!!!#oh i've missed writing for her so so much #I'm so sorry it's been literally 4 months since a proper update #y'all have been so patient and i truly appreciate it <3 #looking forward to hearing what y'all think! 🥹💕#love's light wings #oc: juliet thompson #brady x jules #john brady x oc #masters of the air #mota #mota oc

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oathkeeper-of-tarth · 6 months ago

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hello, your datamining posts are fascinating! i was wondering if you came across any info on the other thorm family members and exactly how they're related to each other?

Hi, and thank you! Glad you're enjoying the posts. Here's another excessively long one, because I love contemplating the disaster that is the Thorm family.

To start with, a quote from Isobel that isn't in the game anymore, from when you could have a conversation with her post-abduction and post-tadpoling:

I grew up in the village below here. A place built by Thorms, with aunties and uncles and cousins down every laneway.

So there was a whole lot of them. And it sure did rub some people wrong that the Thorms had the cushiest jobs around Reithwin. Sadly, on the matter of the Thorms' actual family tree, the answer is going to be disappointing, I'm afraid. I haven't found anything much about them that isn't in the game, and the game itself stays vague. (Bonus: writing this up when I've just gone through Act 2 in my honour mode run so this is nicely fresh in my mind.)

The Thorms are but collectors: collectors of coin, glory, blood, and more yet.

The only relationship that is explicitly defined is that Malus Thorm is Ketheric Thorm's uncle, as the head surgeon bemoans his displeasure with his nephew and the way he seems to favour now-openly-practicing necromancer Balthazar in the Tissue and Organ Register.

As for Thisobald, the one I, along with I imagine most other people, am most curious about - not much luck with EA stuff. A model for the "Brewer" shows up mid-2021, as seen in this datamining thread (note also the "Necromancer" who is very recognisably our gross ol' pal Balthazar). That's about it. There's files in the current game that explicitly describe him as Ketheric's son in the meta info bits, which have no reason to be untrue:

In Town in Act 2 we meet the Brewer that is son of Ketheric and shadow-curse mutated. This one is played when we defeat him. The brewer was once an ordinary person, but has been twisted by the shadowcurse and is now a huge, bloated monstrosity. He speaks in fragments, and is menacing but with an air of melancholy. He wants to drink until he forgets everything, and would like to bring everyone into oblivion with him.

As does he himself, beyond all those "Father Ketheric" references that I've seen explained as a potential title for a religious figurehead:

Son of Thorm. Sot of Sword Coast. I am Thorm. My father's tower grazed the new moon. Yours means zero, nothing, naught.

So yeah, a real head-scratcher, that one. Unacknowledged/mistreated bastard son before Melodia is something I've seen suggested, which might work. But then, he's very adamant and proud and pretty open about being a Thorm. If you choose to tell him about the owlbear mother as one of the tales to impress him, he only offers this:

[SUCCESS] Mothers. Commiserations. This place is my mother. Its teats are copper. Its milk is barrel-aged. [FAIL] We all have owlbear mothers. Mine was a lush. Unimpressive.

So was his mother an unnamed local drunkard, or is he speaking metaphorically again? Isobel, I am begging. Please explain.

What we do know is that they were all three alive and contemporaneous with Isobel's death and Ketheric's war (much love to the BG3 Wiki for having pretty much all of the in-game book/documents graciously transcribed, btw), and are in fact not ancient Thorms raised during Ketheric's Myrkul days and his "desecrating my family's mausoleum" phase, as I've seen theorised.

Gerringothe was banned from the Waning Moon (SHE KNOWS WHAT SHE DID). She was also in her secret logbook complaining about Ketheric's brewing war ruining her profits.

Malus is interesting - he has the big, extra-pointy elf ears (and so does Thisobald?) and he seems to be really old. Reithwin Necrology has him listed as the head surgeon in 986 DR, which is a little over 500 years before the events of the game take place, and so about 400 years before Ketheric's fall. Interestingly, the document lists the casualties of a battle between Dark Justiciars, Selûnites, and even a druid. I wonder if this might be a conflict taking place during the original Sharran occupation of Grymforge, which lasted for 800 years - and perhaps this is how Ketheric came to know of its existence. We also get to hear about some of Malus' atrocities thanks to sister Anna Lidwin, a tragic figure in her own right.

The Waning Moon: Consignments, written by Thisobald, is an extra spicy bit of text, talking about the entire family, and the way they operated before it all became an open conflict:

The ale she fed me was poisoned - and by my own hand! My truth serum was all too effective. I professed the lot: the poisoned drinks, Malus' 'treatments', the interrogations - all of it. She means to reveal our 'schemes' to the Baldur's Gate authorities. Unless, of course, I grace her palm with more gold than Gerringothe could muster. Father would have my head if he knew - or worse yet, donate me to Malus.

The document concludes with this very, very interesting bit:

The Harpers came too close - they poisoned Father Ketheric himself, yet he professes no ill effects. Malus insists it a fluke. Doctor he may be, but he is no less a fool for it: Father has achieved that of which I can only dream: immortality. I have long suspected. I can guess Father's purpose, but I cannot fathom the means.

If you beat all of the checks while drinking with Thisobald a century later, it turns out he did find out the means after all (and Ketheric was aware, threatening him into silence):

Player: What can you tell me about Ketheric? Thisobald Thorm: Father. Father is father. Eternal, invincible, forever, except not. Player: What do you mean? How can I defeat Ketheric? Thisobald Thorm: No, must not, can not, will not mention her. You want father's personal mysterious - (secret) - secret. No, not, never! Father said, ordered, commanded. Don't say it, don't say it! The cage. Her cage. Talk and… perish, die, buried. Buried in Thorm tomb. Father told me. I can't perish - no, nay, neither. Too strong, too…

After all, he does describe himself as a collector of "that which holds the most value: information".

Going back to Early Access, the quests leading to lifting the shadow curse evolved a lot, with one iteration being you needing to find "anchors" for the curse. Madeline (now of He-Who-Was quest fame) was a long-dead Harper and the sister of another Harper character called Callie you could meet. She died fighting Ketheric and, disillusioned with the Harpers as an organisation, hated that she'd inspired her sister to become a Harper too.

Madeline? But she died back in Ketheric's day. Madeline. Her name was Madeline. And she died fighting Ketheric with her last breath. But that's not enough is it? Madeline didn't want Callie to be a Harper. Nothing. What you saw was the truth. Madeline died hating the Harpers - and her darling sister Callie has no idea. Indeed. Madeline died realising she was just a name on a tally, and she hated the Harpers for it. Indeed. Madeline died hating both the Harpers and herself - for she led Callie down the same path.

She - or a keepsake of hers, her Harper pin - was one of the anchors for the shadow curse. You could also "witness her last moments" somehow, which I assume grew into the post-mortem "trial" we have in the game now.

The darkness emanating from that... it must be an anchor for the curse. What, I know not, but it torments this Harper. The memento is the key - the anchor. Do you have the fortitude to retrieve it? This Harper's soul is trapped in an endless cycle of pain, fear and regret. Her soul is trapped here - and a memento she gave you is doing it. If you give me that pin I'll put her soul to rest. I promise. But I don't know you. And I'm not gonna trust you with Madeline's Harper pin. So be a good egg, and bugger off.

It seems you'd do something like this several times. Isobel and Halsin were the main NPCs involved here - you'd find the anchors, and then presumably one of them would do something with them.

I've been studying the curse ever since, searching for answers. Trying to restore the damage my father has wrought upon this land. My life is devoted to unravelling the torment Ketheric inflicted on this land. So please, find the anchors, and bring them to me. I spent years researching the curse, trying to put an end to it. Nothing has worked - yet. The Shadowfell itself pours through this place, but there is no single portal or anchor. Ketheric was a brilliant general, but not a mage. He must have anchored this corruption and opened a path for Shar. This cursed land is ripe with grief and regret. Find the dead filled with such agony - find what anchors them here. The anchors would be infused with Shar's blessing, concealed where the curse of the Shadowfell is strongest. |Please do. For now, focus on finding the anchors, it's the only way we can understand the curse.| These are both anchors. Yet I believe there must be more. Bring back another anchor, and I will tell you.

You would progress after gathering all the anchors, and learn that you needed the "blood of a Thorm":

Yes! The anchors alone are not enough to end the curse. We need blood from the Thorm family line. That makes sense. A Thorm is the one who made it. How do I get the blood of a Thorm? By bleeding Ketheric. The rest of his family... is long dead.

I bring all of this up because at one point the anchors became the "Bones of Contention", and "the Thorms" were what was sustaining the curse. This is also where we get the full trio of "Distillery boss", "Hospital boss", and "Tollhouse boss", who you'd need to defeat to get the bones. A great writeup of this version of the quest, highlighting Halsin's part in it, can be found here in a post by @merrinla. And as you can see in the post we once again have Isobel on research duty. These are from Patch 6:

How do the Thorms sustain the shadows? [NEEDS FLAG]

Interestingly enough, that line survives to release, and is now answered by Thisobald during the drinking game with "the spirit of the land".

|Please do. Come back to me after the night, hopefully I'll be done researching the bones you brought me.| |We know about the bones and we know we need the blood of a Thorm...|

I also found these tidbits that seem to imply a "sacrifice Isobel" option was at least something that you could discuss in the game:

But you have all the bones. Can't we end the curse at Moonrise? Does that mean your death could end the curse? Perhaps. I fear my sacrifice alone may not be enough. / It's possible I may have to sacrifice myself. But this is my father's crime.

Funnily enough, behaviour scripts for Aylin and Isobel that are still in the game include references to the bones, such as:

[Nightsong] "Stand with Isobel while she's researching the Bones of Contention"

receivedBonesFlag = Flag([[SCL_ShadowCurse_Event_GiveBonesToIsobel_26c0ec08-561f-411f-9053-458341c6a7e9]]) finishedResearchFlag = Flag([[SCL_ShadowCurse_Event_BonesResearchProgressed_91936c5f-a3f6-741a-3f1f-ac956ee649f5]])

But I haven't found much beyond that.

And with that, I'll conclude this giant word soup. Hope it was at least slightly interesting!

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #datamine #early access #thisobald thorm #malus thorm #gerringothe thorm #isobel thorm #ketheric thorm #shadow curse #long post #i'll post the tadpoled isobel lines tomorrow i think i have most of them #they're actually very uncomfortable to listen to

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oonajaeadira · 2 years ago

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So ok, here's a Patricio question ... what nights does he have free aside from Thursdays? Does he have clients every weekday, and then again sometimes on weekends? I know they're both going to try and make it work, but unless there's a way to get them both off of that 'schedule' where she has a set time slot to be with him, things could get tricky and not feel much different for either of them, even though they'll no longer be in the massage room. The first weekend they spend together is going to be an interesting one, I think ... and I hope that they're able to make it special.

Hello, my wonderful pal. <3

They very much made their first weekend special. I didn’t cover it in detail, but hinted at it in the previous session. The nice thing about the way their relationship works is that they’ve got the sex part kind of out of the way...although it’s different now that there aren’t any barriers or rules. So they just get to breathe in each other’s spaces now, be around the person they yearn to share time with.

As for the schedule question, you won’t find a logical schedule laid out here. His clients vary in needs and wants, some of them are long term, some only once. Some are on a fixed and limited schedule and others come and go as needed. A long-term weekly schedule is actually kind of unusual for him. If they’re long term, they’re probably on a monthly or bi-weekly at best. Whereas some need a weekly short term. And some only need one or three sessions total.

But this sporadic and erratic schedule is bound to cause some issues. It will just have to be one of the many things they work on.

Kiss and Tell: Priority Aches and How to Soothe Them (GTTT PATS)

FANDOM: Calls - Apple TV (PATS is a character from ep. 3. “Pedro Across the Street.” This is not RPF.)

As with all of my PATS installments, warnings abound for explicit content.

Thank goodness you opted for the wide couch. Your ex hardly ever wanted to cuddle it seemed, but damn if it isn’t coming in handy now. While some gorgeously-filmed spy adventure movie plays on the tv, Patricio spoons you from behind, obviously not paying as much attention to it as you are.

Bright sparks of pleasure run up and down your neck as he tries to break your focus, choosing at the moment to center on one quarter-sized spot just behind your earlobe, circling it with the tip of his nose, rotating between light nuzzling and kissing and licking and nipping there. Every time the cocky spy with the silly belt buckle and electric whip shows up on screen, Patricio pushes his hips forward. And if you gasp, he simply cups a hand over your mouth, urging your silence and calm. He wants to take his time.

It had just been a lazy Saturday on the couch with a little Netflix. But when a dark-haired, mustachioed cowboy showed up on screen and you mumbled a breathless “well, hello, pretty yeehaw,” the and-chill portion of the day began. He pulled down the back of your leggings to find you instantly aroused, whispering that he was going to help you enjoy your new cowboy crush, and pushed himself slowly inside.

Now every time this ridiculously handsome and corny character struts onto the scene, your new boyfriend drags himself slowly through you, lightly skimming mouth and nose, lips and teeth along the back of your neck, intent on creating a Pavlovian response for anyone dark-haired and honey-eyed, broad and tanned…just like himself.

Thank god he makes you come before the end of the film or it may have created a poor connection. Your cowboy’s death illicits shared groans and laughter as his boots disappear into a huge meat grinder. Sad, really. You would have loved to see him come back in another part of the series.

But you have your own brown eyes and scruffy man to turn to and snuggle into.

“Can we do this every weekend?” you ask into his chest. God he smells good. Clean and spicy all at once, a combo of some personal grooming product and detergent, but also just a healthy aliveness and warmth.

With all your concentration on his scent and burrowing past his open shirtfront to meet your lips to the skin of his collarbone, you almost miss the fact that he takes a long time to answer you.

“Ah,” he breathes reluctantly, “Maybe Sunday? I…have a client scheduled next Saturday.”

Freezing for a moment with your forehead pressed to his neck, you don’t notice how your fingers dig into the fabric covering his shoulder. “You’ve never had a Saturday client before. They...must be new?”

“Kind of,” his voice rumbles softly against your brow and you close your eyes as a swallow ripples past, letting the vibrations ground you as he explains. “Started her on Monday. She’s an author, been sitting a lot lately. But her mom isn’t doing so great and she moved in to help her. She has to lift her mother and do a lot of the housework and yardwork and isn’t in shape like she wants to be. So between getting her strength back up and the sudden amount of physical work she’s not used to, her body’s having a period of adjustment. I almost rejected her because she could go to any masseuse…but her application said her father passed last year and now her mother’s slipping. Between all of that, she hasn’t had time for relationships and has just let the need become so much that it’s bringing her morale dangerously low. She’s stressed. I can help her. But Saturdays are the only time she has until another family member can start helping next month. It should only be a few weeks. Then I’m moving her to Mondays.”

You war with yourself, not wanting to dig for assurances out of desperation. But this is part of the work, isn’t it? For you and for him. So you ask.

“You’re seeing her every week? Like you did with me?”

And if he really wants this, he won’t ever tire of answering, just to make you feel safe.

He wants this.

“Just for the time being. I’ll scale her back as she gets stronger and able to find ways to destress. She hurt her lower back shoveling her mother’s sidewalks and needed help getting up to the massage room. She’ll need some work. But she was so much better even after the first three hours. Needed less help getting back down.”

“Oh.” It’s all you can say into his neck. You know you’re special to him, but it would be nice if he would cap it with some reassurance. You should tell him that. Pride stops you. You don’t want to beg, so you give him slack instead. “If you’re too tired on Sunday then that’s okay–”

“I want you Sunday. And Friday if you’ll have me.”

“I thought you had a Friday client?”

“That one’s once a month.”

“Oh.” Once a month, once a week, he knows them all so well…how many are there? You’ve never thought to ask. Maybe you should….

In response to your silence, his hands begin to slide along your back, coming to your waistline as he tilts his chin to your ear, murmuring low. “This muscle group here attaches here,” fingertips slide under your top, press into an intimate curve near your spine, the pads leaving heated imprints on your skin, “and here,” he whispers, sliding a palm down to cup your ass. After giving it a firm squeeze, he keeps moving to the back of your thigh. “And here.”

As he lifts your leg and pulls it over his hip, you finally lean your head back to look at him. And he smiles.

“There you are. Welcome back.” But as you crane forward to kiss him, he pulls back a bit. “I’m gonna show you how I’m fixing her, but if I do that, no kissing. Because I don’t kiss my clients.”

“You kissed me.”

“Yeah. And look what kind of mess that got me into.” His expression is serious, but gentle, the comment’s both a little affectionate dig at you, but also carries the unspoken weight of I don’t know how to tell you that you’re special. I don’t know how to tell you you were the best mistake I made.

But he’s trying.

“Okay. Show me.”

And he does. Explains what he looked for in his client’s wracked body. How he targeted the connections and radiated to other parts of the back, explaining how a muscle in your chest can pull at your rib cage which can twist your spine here, how a spot in the arch of your foot connects to your sacral area, how finger pressure inside the back wall of the vagina just here can cause these back muscles to naturally release and pull downward….

At certain times he points out how your structure differs from hers, that if it were you, he would also be prodding here (“And I’m coming back to that when this demonstration is over–what have you been doing this week that got you all knotted up here?��) and an inch or two higher here.

It’s all very technical and magical at the same time and it’s exhilarating to see how very well he knows the human body, how he’s made an expert study of it...

…and of course he’d want to work on different ones constantly, solve their puzzles, examine their differences.

Even see how it works when he fucks it.

Even a mechanic likes to take the cars they work on out for a spin afterward.

But they still drive their pride and joy home.

When he’s done with his demo he kisses you long and deep, your fingers no longer clutching. No need to hang on so tightly when you completely melt into one another.

“Go start the shower,” he mumbles against your lips. “Get warmed up. I’m gonna take care of that knot you’ve got going on.”

“You coming with me?”

“I’ll meet you there.”

As you move off toward the bathroom, you see him reach for his phone on the coffee table.

And once you have your clothes off and are climbing into the warm steam, you hear your own ding from the next room.

You’ll have to remember to check that out.

But you forget the moment you’re enveloped in the combined warmth of hot water and naked man. ________________

Sometime during the night, the glass of water he insisted you drink after your massage comes calling and forces you to slide out of his heavy embrace and head for the toilet.

Force of habit makes you grab your phone on the way, just to double-task and check the notifications while your body gets its needs out of the way.

Email: Subject: Patricio has shared a calendar with you.

A...calendar?

Curious, you tap the notif. And stare at the note attached.

--For your eyes only. You can have any and every night that’s free.

And there is his calendar, days sporadically claimed, no pattern that you can yet see, although it begins to make sense the longer you look.

Nikki. Agnes. Carol. Rumiko. Jamie. Jody. TJ. Autumn. Ness.

The next two Saturdays read “Theresa.”

Theresa. Her dad’s gone and her mother is dying and she has no one to help her right now. And everything hurts. And her name is Theresa.

Your thumb glides over her name.

The light of the screen helps guide you back to bed.

Back to a man who doesn’t wake when you climb under the covers and into his arms.

He only sighs in his sleep and holds you tighter.

It only takes a minute or two to fall easily back to a relaxed and blissful sleep.

______

MASTERLIST

SERIES MASTERLIST

#good things take time #pedro across the street #calls fanfiction #22

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quartzhearted · 2 months ago

Text

great tree moon, year xx.

[ SECOND CORRESPONDENCE W. KINGDOM OF BRODIA. ]

Hi, honey,

It's been a little bit since my last letter---and let me tell you, there sure have been some new things here at the monastery. I swear it wasn't that long since I last talked to you, but maybe it has been? Time's a hell of a thing, ain't it.

A handful of moons ago, it was almost like some kind of mass exodus; a bunch of people disappeared, then came back after some time passed. Apparently it's a normal thing, but... it's really strange? I remember seeing something-or-other around the monastery asking for participants, I think... I don't know. It's all a little hazy. Apparently I could have gone, but there was too much to do and I decided against it. Lots of people came back with real bad sunburns.

I've got a pal, Lambert---he's the guy that consensually punched me, remember him?---and he'd gone off to wherever it was. He came back a completely different person. I'm talking new look, new attitude, new lease on life. I really wonder what happened to him over there, but I haven't had the chance to ask him yet. Baby, if you met Lambert, I know the two of you would catch on like a wildfire. He's fantastic!

Speaking of pals, I've made a few more since I last talked to you. One of my favorites is this guy named Matthias---I mean, guy's like an alternate me! He's huge, got short, orange hair, axe guy, and he's a mean fighter. When we first met, we did it the warrior's way. Ended in a tie, and that's while he had a problem with his leg! He's a lot more deadpan-looking than Lambert is, but he's his own brand of feisty. I hope I get to talk to him more; I think we've got some things in common.

There's a new wind blowing at the monastery right about now, and lots of people are getting involved. Heading out on missions, picking up odd jobs, or getting hired for real jobs, and that's just a few things off the top of my head. Hell, I wanted to see what all the fuss was about, so I picked up a job. It was... well, there'll be some instant portraits in here. You can figure it out from those. Damn near gave Diamant a heart attack.

I hope my birthday wasn't too quiet. I assume it'd have turned into a day of mourning, given how things went with Alexand... but I'd much rather people drink and be merry like they always did. I was finally able to take Alcryst out to drink, and Diamant took me out to drink. And that's not even mentioning all of the neat gifts I got; this dragon squirt Nils gave me a dragon warrior charm! And Lambert gave me a sword. A really nice sword! I think I'll hang the charm off of it... but then it might break. So what should I do? You were always good about practical customization, so do you have any ideas?

A girl I've never seen before gave me a stone for my birthday. It was pyrite, so she has to be from Brodia, right? Because why else would she give something like that to me...?

Also, Lapis said something interesting to me when she gave me her present. Something about being newly-included in people that are worried about my health and somesuch. Very weird.

That's probably enough yapping from me for one letter. Like I mentioned, I've put in some instant portraits again---me in uniform, me working at my other job, Diamant is there in one of them, and a few random ones of people I've met. Being here has really helped me talk to people my age and people not my age. It's a real blessing.

I think about you every morning, afternoon, and night, my dearest. Even if you still don't believe this is real... that's all right with me. All I worry about is if you're healthy and happy. Hopefully Diamant and Alcryst have been writing you as well, but if they haven't, I swear that I've never seen them shining brighter or living healthier. They're doing just fine, and so am I.

Write me soon, sapphire. Even if it's just one word, it's one word from my loveliest gemstone.

Signed,

Morion, Professor of Axe, Sword, and Authority at the Officers Academy

#⚔︎ ic #⚔︎ drabble 02 #[ another issue of I Love My Wife Monthly ]

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molarbeardoc · 9 months ago

Text

HI HI I WAS BORED HERE’S PART TWO (this was written two days ago)

Floor infinity! Going up!

…

Split stood quietly within the slightly cramped space, humming to herself as she waiting for the elevator to stop. She didn’t remember the elevator taking this long time to reach a floor. Maybe something was wrong with the cables? Did it even have cables? Maybe? What did she know; she was a fruit-taur not a technician!

…

What’s it like being a technician anyway? Is she even using the right profession? Sounds like a pretty annoying job. Having to fix everything all the time everytime it breaks or something.

Ding

Her thoughts were interrupted by the familiar ringing ding of the elevator as it abruptly stopped at its floor. As she prepared herself to get out she was instead met with an unexpected, yet not unwelcome, surprise as the sounds of low quality yet cheerful music filled her floppy ears. If that wasn’t enough, the stuffy heat and subtle metallic washing over her as her fellow part bug ‘pal’, or as she considered him, entered the elevator.

The moment he laid his several eyes on her, he let out a sigh.

"Why are you here? What are you even doing here? It’s 5am…"

"Well a fine good morning to you too, Pest..! How’s the subway treating you? I’m on my way to-"

"It’s nice. That’s nice."

"It is isn’t it?"

"話すのをやめて。(Stop talking)."

"Still don’t understand you. MayBEE you should teach me whatever you’re speaking sometime."

"私はパスします (I’ll pass)."

"Heh!"

Silence apart from the usual creaking and funky music filled the elevator. After a few more moments the familiar ringing ding filled the space once more.

`Finally!`

"Oh how time FLIES! It was nice seeing you this morning. Have a LICE day! Oh wait that wasn’t really hygienic… Anyway, bye Pest!"

The party guest beetle only chattered in response. Maybe he wasn’t in a punny mood this morning. Oh well! More for the others.

She stepped off the elevator and onto the floor, taking a deep breath as she inhaled the fresh air. She always wondered how this floor was one of the few that were always outside in the open. That was weird. Very weird. Hmm…

Oh well!

She made her way into the maze, having to hunch over a small bit to fit entirely into the cramped space. She never understood how she could live in here? She found it small and dark and confusing. Then again, she was a bit small and dark and confusing, it fit her in a way.

"Hello? Anyone there?"

Silence

"Guess she does sleEP-!"

Split let out a startled yelp as she turned a corner and promptly bumped into someone. Fortunately she didn’t fall over, unlike whoever had met her head on. She adjusted her glasses and looked down at the spluttering and spazzed being, a warm smile soon gracing her face as the gave a low chuckle.

"Good morning Bive! I hope you don’t mind me dropping in so early. I was a bit impatient and bored so I decided to just come by now!"

The poor hairball was still confused, trying to grasp the situation as she stared blankly at Split before finally coming to her senses.

"AH-! Split! Hello! Had me worried! I thought you were a secret agent of the Clown Military who found me! HAHA-! I knew I picked the perfect spot to block their feeble radio tracking signals! THEY’LL NEVER FIND ME-!"

Split barely understood a word of any of that, she rarely understood Bive in general. That’s what why she loved her. It was always a new conspiracy theory about clowns. Or some life changing 'evidence' that’ll prove her right. She admired that about her. Her confidence that she was in the light, that she knew the truth, while others «minus Split» were manipulated and fed lies by… whoever really!

"You’re right! You’re great at hiding, Bivey. Maybe you could teach me how to avoid them when you get the chance! I’m sure it’ll be very helpful."

"Bivey- GRK-YES! YES! An INGENIOUS plan Split! You’re the only one willing to listen and take precautions! They’re coming after all! It’s only a matter of time before they do arrive! And when it happens we’ll be prepared!"

Bive would shake and tremble, her hands shaking violently as she rambled on and on.

"THAT BRINGS ME TO MY NEXT POINT! While I was trying to finish my corkboard last night, I was hit with a sud-"

"Last night? Bive have you… slept? At all?"

The black haired creature stared at her before letting out a cackle.

"OHOHO THAT’S YOUR BEST ONE YET SPLIT!"

Eventually, her laughter died down she sighed and looked at the fruit-taur. Once realizing it was, in fact, not a joke, she let out an awkward cough and cleared her throat.

"Ah… You’re serious… Ahah..-! When you’re a genius detective as myself, sleep only gets in your way. It makes you vulnerable. I don’t need sleep! Sleep is a one way ticket to getting caught! All I need is my special brew! That’s all I need, HA!"

Split could hardly believe her ears. Is that safe? Is that even possible?! How can someone just not sleep?! A wave of concern immediately washed over her as the detective continued to ramble on and on about her 'special brew'. Was it just pure caffeine? How does one even obtain pure unfiltered caffeine? Is it even legal?

At least that means she had a new goal in mind! Get this idiot to sleep… But how was a new problem… Maybe she could wait her out? No that wouldn’t work… She mentioned her special brew… Maybe if she could stop her from drinking it she’ll crash? It’s plausible, that still left the issue as to how..

Maybe distracting her with something? Maybe they could go to that RedBall Diner! That would definitely work. Now all she had to do was choose her next words carefully. No matter how easy the plan sounded on paper, it had to be executed flawlessly, with no in between.

Considering Bive was not only cautious, but easily deterred by anything that didn’t contribute to her theories, Split had to play her next moves as if this were a game of chess. Not that she knew how to play chess, she was more of a checkers girl.

"Hey Bivey? I was thinking and I really wanna know! What’s your opinions on the diner?"

"OHOHO! Don’t get me started on that place! The robots are weird, the place is weird, their boss?! WEIRD! It’s so strange!"

"Do you think they may be hiding something there?"

"HA! Like they’d hide anything of use in there."

"What if that’s what they want you to think?"

Bive paused. Split could see the gears in her head turning as she continued.

"Maybe they’ve got LOTS of secrets about the clown military or those snow soldiers. Don’t you wanna check just to be safe? After all, you can never be too careful, right?"

Split watched and waited in anticipation, holding her breath as Bive narrowed her eyes, humming quietly to herself as she thought about what the fruit-taur had said.

Inhale

"You make an excellent point.."

Exhale

"Thank you! I think we should get moving, don’t you? We don’t wanna miss out on any opportunities or secrets or other thingies!"

Bive nodded as she navigated the two of them out of the maze, ignoring the babbling of Fleshy and avoiding the corrosive oil of Scary Mike.

Split began wondering if it was just the coffee that left the detective unable to sleep; but it certainly seemed to be a main factor of the problem.

Eventually the two finally exited the maze. How long were they in there for? The sun was already out. Surely it hadn’t been that long. Nevertheless, they approached the elevator and pressed the button, waiting for the doors to open as they sat there quietly.

"… Why do you call an alligator detective?"

"Wha-?"

"An investi-gator…"

"… OH! INVESTI-GATOR! LIKE INVESTIGATORS BUT IT’S AN ALLIGATOR! HAHA!"

Split smiled as she got the joke, letting out a quiet giggle herself as the elevator let out a quiet ding before its doors opened. It was empty for now, no one stood within its wood and metal walls as the two stepped inside.

It was rather relaxing actually, at least for the fruit-taur. Bive looked as if she were about to have an entire breakdown right then and there, staring at one specific corner of the elevator the entire ride. Then again she always did that so there was really no difference for Split.

After a few minutes, the doors of the elevator opened, exposing the RedBall Diner office rather than its front doors. It was a little strange but not enough for anyone to make too big of a deal about it.

Split tapped the shoulder of a distracted Bive and motioned towards the open doors, partially leading and dragging her out of the elevator. Yeah… She definitely needed a good night’s sleep…

Once she came back to her senses, she stiffened at the feeling of someone’s hands on her shoulders, relaxing only when she realized it was only Split.

"Come on. No more staring at walls. We’ve got secrets to uncover!"

So far her plan was working perfectly… Okay maybe not perfectly but it was going well so far! That’s all that mattered to her. Bive was relatively silent for the moment, glancing around suspiciously with narrowed eyes, taking mental notes of her surroundings, even glaring at the animatronics with clear contempt.

"So… What do you think they’re hiding?"

"Isn’t it obvious?! They’re clearly creating more parasitic creatures to gather information for the group!"

"The who?"

"THE GROUP! They’re working with them…"

That didn’t answer her question in the slightest…

"Right! The group! Whoever they are… Say I’m feeling a bit hungry. How about we get something to eat? Since we’re already here and all!"

"There’s no way their food is safe for consumption! They certainly have planted microchips that make their way up to your brain and convince you to buy more pencils! Then the guards in the pencils will attack when you’re at your weakest! They’ll leave you paralyzed before dealing a devastating final blow and leaving you to rot!"

"Alright, alright. But I’m just saying, a cheese pizza does sound pretty Gouda."

"Gouda-? Wha-"

"What Gouda? There’s no Gouda around- OHOH! A CHEESE JOKE! BECAUSE YOU SAID CHEESE PIZZA! AND GOUDA IS TYPE OF CHEESE! I GET IT! HA!"

"Yeah! But honestly I’m gonna get a cheese pizza. Are you sure you don’t want anything? Just to keep your energy up while we look for anything out of the ordinary?"

Bive was left unsure. She hadn’t eaten anything yet and while it would definitely give her the energy, she wasn’t sure if she actually wanted to risk being infected with mind controlling microchips.

"But… The microchips…"

"How about this? I’ll try it out first and let you know if there’s any microchips in it, that way you don’t have to risk getting infected!"

Without waiting for an answer, Split quickly hurried to order a medium pie. Not wanting to be left alone in unfamiliar terrain, Bive hastily followed after whilst growing annoyed .

Could the fruit-taur not see the danger she was putting herself in?! This was a reckless and stupid decision… With each passing moment, Bive grew more and more agitated at her carelessness. Yet as she thought about it, she realized Split was doing this for her. She didn’t have to take the risk, but she did it anyway…

Huh…

That’s actually…

That’s actually pretty sweet…

She sighed as she remained close to Split, listening as she ordered a medium cheese pizza and following her over to one of the tables once finished.

"You’re not actually gonna eat anything are you? That’s a stupidly huge risk to be taking. You don’t know what they’ve put in those things!"

"I’m sure I’ll be fine. No need to worry wart."

Just because she didn’t need to worry doesn’t mean she wasn’t going to. If anything, her nonchalant attitude made it worse. How could she be so calm when she was about to poison herself?! Who poisons themselves and is calm about it?! That’s like… like… like a deer not running away from the snap of a twig! Is a good analogy? Probably not but who cares? Who cares when the person you care for the most is LITERALLY about to put toxins in her body?!

While the wait was only a few minutes, it felt as if it were several hours. The food eventually arriving as Split gave Bive a comforting smile. Of course it didn’t help at all since she was still basically about to ingest death.

The moment she took a bite Bive had thought her heart had stopped. She’s going to have to explain to everyone how the fruit-taur met her end. She was never gonna meet anyone who actually understood her again. She would have to bury her on her own. What were her favourite flowers? As much as she didn’t trust them she was going to have to bring some twice a year. One for her birthday and another for her death day. Oh the humanity! How would she-

Wait…

Wait a minute

She’s okay…?

How is that possible?! Was the food actually safe for consumption? The chances were slim but plausible. Wait that’s not the point, what really matters is that Split’s okay! Oh thank whatever deity was watching over them for proving her suspicions wrong. She didn’t know what she would do without her.

"… Do you… feel alright?"

"Uhm… I’m not hungry anymore?"

"Perhaps I was wrong… You don’t feel like buying anything pencils?"

"Nope!"

"What about clowns? How do you feel about clowns now?"

"The same as usual."

"Snow soldiers?"

"Not to be trusted."

Huh. She was wrong. Guess the food was safe for consumption. At least the cheese pizza, who knows what they had in everything else.

"I guess… it is edible.. You’re not lying to me right?"

"Why would I ever lie to you?"

She had a point there…

"So are you gonna eat some or am I gonna have to finish this on my own? Not that I mind. I’m pretty sure I would finish this alone."

Bive glanced between her and the pizza, still holding onto her suspicions as she let out a quiet sigh. Eventually, she hesitantly reached for a slice and held it for a moment; inspecting it to make sure there was truly nothing wrong with it. Once it had met her standards, she took a bite herself.

It wasn’t good… But it wasn’t bad either.

"… Well then… It’s not something I’d eat daily. I doubt it’d even go well with my brew. But it’s okay I suppose.."

"I told you everything would be fine."

"Yes I know."

"But you were still freaking out weren’t you?"

"Yes I-"

"You were all worried about me."

"Fine you were right I was wrong."

"I had no idea."

Even with her teasing attitude, her grin made it impossible to feel annoyed. It was rather endearing at most.

Through the entire day, the two would simply enjoy themselves; at least to the best of their ability. Minus the occasional accusations of being a large animal and Bive’s suspicion about some of the games that operated within the dinner, it was an enjoyable experience!

Plus Split’s plan had worked.

The detective was so worried about what was happening in the moment, she had completely forgotten of her special brew. It had worked flawlessly. Not to mention Bive had gained a few extra theories in the process. It was a win-win situation for the both of them.

For now at least..

RAHHH RAHH RAHG RAHH RAHHHH IT’S FINISHED OH MY GOD I HOPE YOU ENJOY EAT UP MY SILLIES <3

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