#I'm pretty sure I've reached the bottom of the tag and read every fic I've found then reread everything again for another time like a dog.

[suusoh]

okay girl I don't even know what you're on because recent johan liebert fans have been spoiled with the gift of actually having so much to read in the johan liebert x reader tags. Before you I swear to god everything was SO DRY AND EMPTY. We have talented authors and fics of course which we eat up in seconds, but its so few and far between that it feels like a dead fandom sometimes. The second you came in it feels like a dam of water exploding over a dessert.

ANNNOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN

I WAS JUST KIDDING ON THAT POST BECAUSE I JUST FOUND IT FUNNY BUT NOW I LEGIT DON'T HAVE ANY WORDS IM SOO ????? FHDSKAFHJKASHF FFH MMNN ?/ ?? FHSN H GGGG2382392 FDFA34??????????? FHADHFHFHHHFJDAKFAHJFHAFH NCNDMSNF,MC,MSDFH653742I8746783264HFDSKFBJASLKFJKSCMMMAMAMAMA8F8888123897198381NDSFHJKASHFAR8920NFKLASN @#$$#%^^&%

[oralmisery]

Dear the King of Hawkins

The Love Letters were a means of catharsis, a way for Eddie to bare his soul. In private. They were never supposed to be sent.

Especially the one to Steve Harrington.

Basically a To All the Boys I've Loved Before au💌

[ complete fic on ao3 ]

Rating: E | WC: 12,293 | tags: Fluff and Smut, Light Angst, Happy Ending, Light Dom/sub, Dom Eddie, Sub Steve, One Shot, Porn with Feelings

When Steve sees the envelope he isn't sure what to think. It takes him a moment to even register who Eddie Munson is. In Steve’s circles, he’s usually referred to as “The Freak”. 

Munson is practically a permanent fixture of Hawkins high. A smear in the background, here to blemish Steve’s senior year since he flunked his own. If it's not Munson then it's some other oddly dressed weirdo. There's always people like that. The outcasts, the dregs, the ones you ignore. Except Munson. He’s pretty hard to ignore when he’s standing on lunch tables and being generally obnoxious. It's probably why there's so many rumors about him. Well that and being one of the only sources for drugs in town, Munson squeaks out of most beatdowns; what people can't punch they talk shit about.

People say all sorts of things. Satan worshiper. Nerd. Loser. Trash. Creep. Dangerous. Freak. Steve’s not sure how he can be a nerd and dangerous at the same time but he doesn't give it much thought. He's never even spoken to the guy. Tommy always got the weed on the rare occasion they wanted to smoke. 

That's why getting a letter from him was weird. It came in the mail. The mail. Mixed in with bills and coupons. It has a stamp, a little American flag. There is no reason for the guy to reach out to Steve, especially through the postal service.

Dear the King of Hawkins,

I'm sure every day is a sunny one when it's spent on a throne and under a crown. The way you walk these halls no one would believe otherwise. Everyone around you–drawn to your wealth, your looks and confidence–are just subjects turned fools. Led equally by charm and wrath. I wonder what it would be like to be favored in your court? To sit at your side, shoulder to shoulder, instead of distanced by so much more than just space? I can only piece together a flawed fantasy. A distorted image made from the glimpses I get from outside the castle gates. Assuming I’m even considered part of the kingdom, that is.

What the fuck is this. Steve snickers, did the freak send him a sad hate letter? Maybe to everyone in school? Tommy was going to have an absolute riot when he showed him, maybe they can compare letters.

I hope you at least know my name, Hawkins being as small as it is. You've never once looked at me like you actually see me. I know because I can't stop looking at you. Even though you're an entitled asshole, I happen to agree with what anyone with eyes can see. You are so beautiful I think they need to make a new word for it.

Alarms start ringing in his ears. He scans that last line over and over. No matter how many times he reads it, it doesn't change. He checks the front of the envelope to make sure it's really from Munson.

I wasn't surprised when you received your royal title. You’ve always had a way of commanding attention. Inspiring people to follow you blindly with enduring loyalty. I noticed it when I first moved here. I joined the 5th grade class halfway through the school year and everyone already knew each other. I was alone and scared shitless. I know you don't remember but that first week you invited me to a game of tag on the playground. You were genuinely nice, funny even. You made me feel like I could actually have friends here. Then Tommy returned to school after having the flu and we never talked again. I still remember your grin though, you had a tooth missing on the bottom row. Sometimes I see hints of that kid now, usually when you're talking up girls. I've got this sadistic urge to see your smile with a few teeth missing, just to compare you with your younger self. Which is entirely plausible with the fights you get into, but I fear the temptation to kiss you better will be too much.

He's right, Steve doesn't recall that at all. He's trying in vain to remember, but his memory has never been great and he's coming up blank. Can't even imagine Munson as a little kid, probably without his signature long hair. Nobody describes Steve as nice and actually means it. He skips over the word kiss because it’s giving him a terrible stomach ache. He drops into a chair and sets the letter on the kitchen table so the sweat on his palms doesn't smudge the paper.

Ya know, while I agree with the king stuff, I much prefer “The Hair”. Talk about temptation. Your hair haunts me. It makes my brain stutter, I want to simultaneously pet it softly and pull it out of your skull. I get why people used to give locks of hair as mementos. If I had a piece of yours, I'd twirl it around my fingers, imagining what I could do to the source. I want to see those brown waves messy, tug on them until your head looks like a bird nest. I want to see your hair spread out on my sheets. I want to find strands of it on my jacket, in my van, and clogging my shower drain.

It's hopeless, this infatuation. Fucking terrible in all honesty. You're a distraction I can't afford. I'm pretty sure I failed history last semester solely on the fact that you chew pens. It's a cruel combination; wandering attention and a vivid imagination. With the amount of times I've pictured you stretched around my cock, fingers, and tongue I can almost recall you clenching down on me like a real memory. I imagine opening you up real slow until you're begging for it with tears dripping down your face. The background changes like flipping through channels on a TV. Over the hood of your stupid car, Mrs. O'Donnell desk, the picnic table behind the school, anywhere that has a surface really. I probably imagine us most in my bed though. 

Steve’s stomach twists and revulsion burns his throat. It's fucking gross, Munson is a guy . And why the hell would Steve be the receiver in all this? Unwanted, graphic images play behind his eyes. He can't help it, the letter is descriptive. He can feel cold metal on his stomach and wood chafing along his back. Taste phantom salt from tears. He reaches up to run a jittery hand through his hair but aborts the gesture midway when he thinks about Munson wanting to do the same exact thing.

He considers just ripping up the letter without reading the rest but sick curiosity stops him. Like peeking out between fingers to watch a scary movie.

If it was just lust I could handle it. Teenage hormones and all that. But it's deeper than that, more than sex, I want you to look at me like everyone looks at you, like a king. It's horribly cliché but I want you to call me baby and hold my hand. Most of all I want to show you that someone cares about you because I'm worried you don't know that. There's this look on your face when no one else is watching, like you're not here but you want to be. Like you're waiting for something that's not coming. I think it's loneliness. Heaven knows I've felt it enough to recognize it. Maybe that's why I'm still harboring this torch for you even though it’s pointless. I wish I had the chance to make you happy, to take care of you and erase the word abandonment from your vocabulary. Even now, through the crowd, in the bleachers, the other side of the cafeteria, across the entirety of this shitty town, you're not alone because I'm there loving you every second of the day.

Yours,

Eddie Munson

A drop of liquid falls onto the paper, right next to Eddie’s signature. It knocks Steve out of his mental spiral and he reaches up to wipe at his eyes. He didn't even realize they were leaking tracks down his face. 

you're not alone because I'm there loving you every second of the day.

What the fuck is this. Eddie “the freak” Munson is in love with him? What's more upsetting is Steve’s gut reaction; he doesn't deserve it. This level of devotion. He suddenly sees himself from an outside perspective. He's not a good person. There's an inherent reason why his parents are gone most of the time, his friends are mean and shallow, and he jumps from girl to girl. There’s something lacking in him that drives people away, unless he–what were Munson's words?– leads with charm and wrath .

How does Munson know he's lonely when Steve didn't even know? It's mortifying to put an actual word to the feeling. That his efforts to surround himself with people, the “right” people, have apparently meant fuck all. He must look so pathetic to Munson, a deadbeat loser, who sees through him like glass.

What’s the guy’s deal? Why did Munson even send this? What does he expect from Steve? He wrote the words himself. Hopeless. Pointless . There's no ask to meet up, not even a request for an answer. He just drops this bomb into Steve’s life and expects to make a quiet exit? Just wants Steve to know he's loved for the sake of it? That’s dramatic even for the freak. The guy spends too much time doped up if he thinks he's going to flay Steve open and get away with it.

Yours,

Eddie Munson

Steve traces over the word Yours, with a finger. He’s going to get answers. 

[ continue reading ]

[aintgonnatakethis]

Writing Interview Tag!

Big thanks to @moltenwrites for the tag! I've seen this going around and was hoping to be tagged at some point. *rubs hands together* There'll be a readmore at the bottom with the templates for both desktop and mobile.

About me

When did you start writing?

Very young, around 5-6. I remember there was homework where the teacher gave everyone a list of words and asked us to write a sentence with each word. I would turn in a paragraph for each instead 😂 When I was 14 I was writing a lot of Doctor Who fic on FFnet (I can't believe that was 16 years ago 💀) and during the lockdown I started writing again for something to do.

Are there different genres or themes you enjoy reading other than the ones you write?

I don't think so? Sorry, that's a really unsatisfying answer, I know. It's like when you're asked what your favourite book is and you instantly forget every book you've ever read 😂

Is there an author you want to emulate, or are compared to often?

Is this gonna be weird? Probably. Am I gonna fight through the anxiety anyway? Sure, you betcha! @septembriseur is one of the best writers I have ever had the pleasure of reading. Your Telford is second to none. Thank you.

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

Just sitting in my bed cradling my laptop. Despite only being 3 and a half years old it's got a whole host of things wrong with it, the most problematic being a loose connection somewhere inside the charging port. To be able to charge I have to sit in a very specific position and stay still, with a metal water bottle braced against the charging cable to keep it pushed in, another cable tied around it with an elastic band and hooked over the opposite side of the laptop. It's... honestly not the best lol. But it's a gaming laptop so getting it fixed would probably be expensive and I just don't have the money.

What’s your most effective way to muster up a muse?

Am I allowed to say drugs? 😂 I'm prescribed ADHD meds and Pregabalin for anxiety, and they both help me focus enough to get words down on the page. I'd be pretty screwed without them tbh. I had an appointment with a doctor today and am getting an instant release ADHD medication added to my prescription as the extended release wears off by mid-to-late afternoon, so maybe I'll be able to get another daily writing session in when I take that!

Did the place(s) you grew up in influence the people and/or places you write about?

Hn. I want to say not really, but it must have influenced me in some way, right? Kids are sponges and will soak up and mimic the behaviours of the adults around them, and often people will reach adulthood with opinions and ideas that they don't even realise were created by an outside influence.

Are there any reoccurring themes in your writing? If so, do they surprise you?

QUEER! And no, it doesn't surprise me at all. 😂 I love writing about self-discovery, characters figuring out they can grow outside of the box society has built for them.

Characters

Would you please tell me about your current favorite character?

So, uh, I'm just gonna link y'all here, where I ramble on about David Telford from Stargate Universe for fucking ages. He's in my brain spinning plates as we speak. (He never stops.)

Which of your characters would you be friends with in real life?

Well, in real life I wouldn't want to be friends with anyone in the military. While the US military is a special interest of mine because of Stargate, I am very aware that these characters are not realistic when compared to their real life counterparts. Realism in this area is one reason my favourite of the series is Universe, but even then these men aren't... Well, let's just say that - just like in politics - you don't get far in the military if you're a good person.

Which characters would you dislike the most of you met them?

😬😬😬 I mean, the fact they're dislikeable is part of the draw, ya know? I think irl-Young would suck absolute balls. 😂

Tell me about the process of coming up with your characters?

Not super applicable as I'm a solely fandom writer, but the parts of the characters we're not given by the show come to me as I write, like puzzle pieces slotting into place. A good back-and-forth conversation is another excellent way to dig deep into them.

Do you notice any reoccurring themes/traits in your characters?

QUEER! But being serious, I've given both Everett Young (SGU) and John Sheppard (SGA) intrusive thoughts...

My writing

What’s your reason for writing?

Escapism. Creativity. The characters are in my head screaming at me.

Is there any specific comment or type of comment from readers that you find particularly motivating?

Ooh, the long back-and-forth conversations! I'm here to talk endlessly about these little fucking blorbos and I will ramble about them to anyone!

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

Taking this very seriously: a man. I know that fandom is typically a woman-dominated area and I've met quite a few other trans people through Stargate, but yeah. I know there are cultural differences with what are generally considered gender neutral terms around the world, but I do not want to ever be referred to as a girl or with woman-coded terms. I've had to fight hard to be able to be myself: man, dude, bro, there are a lot of choices.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

Hmm... consistency? I set the New Year's resolution to write something every day in 2022. That year I missed 2 and half weeks because I had top surgery and while beforehand I thought 'awesome, I'll have plenty of time to write!' it turned out that recent wounds almost in my armpits makes it quite painful to move my arms... 🤔 In 2023 I wrote every day and so far I've kept that up in 2024. It's not always a lot of words, but it's always something.

What have you been told is your greatest strength as a writer is by others?

Characterisation. I've been told I've got my SGU boys (Telford, Young, and Rush) down to a tee.

How do you feel about your own writing?

There's a cycle where I look back at stuff I've written and compare it to what I'm currently writing and think 'this new stuff isn't as good', but in 3 months the stuff I'm currently writing will be what I think is good so... There are pieces I'm especially proud of, of course. If you'd allow me to plug for a moment, I think a memory, a distant echo is one of the best things I've ever written. Mind the tags though.

If you were the last person on earth, would you still write?

Yeah sure. I write primarily for myself so I don't see any reason why I'd stop. I wouldn't live long though lmao

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, do you write purely for yourself, or is it a mix of both?

First point of contact has to be with me, always. If something doesn't resonate with me, I can't write it. Forcing things is going to make writing unenjoyable and for me it's one of the most joyous things I do and I want to keep it that way. That said, if there's specific interest in a certain idea I have, that of course does motivate me. Feedback is the nectar of writers!

Tagging: @fortunatetragedy @bagheerita @frostysfrenzy @adriankyte-writes @frostedlemonwriter

@gioiaalbanoart @septembriseur @authorcoledipalo @anonmadsci @the-golden-comet + OPEN

@wolgerrswraith @chaniis-atlantis

About me

When did you start writing?

Are there different genres or themes you enjoy reading other than the ones you write?

Is there an author you want to emulate, or are compared to often?

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

What’s your most effective way to muster up a muse?

Did the place(s) you grew up in influence the people and/or places you write about?

Are there any reoccurring themes in your writing? If so, do they surprise you?

Characters

Would you please tell me about your current favorite character?

Which of your characters would you be friends with in real life?

Which characters would you dislike the most of you met them?

Tell me about the process of coming up with your characters?

Do you notice any reoccurring themes/traits in your characters?

How do you picture your characters?

My writing

What’s your reason for writing?

Is there any specific comment or type of comment from readers that you find particularly motivating?

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

Have you been told is your greatest strength as a writer is by others?

How do you feel about your own writing?

If you were the last person on earth, would you still write?

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, do you write purely for yourself, or is it a mix of both?

About meWhen did you start writing?Are there different genres or themes you enjoy reading other than the ones you write?Is there an author you want to emulate, or are compared to often?can you tell me a bit about your writing space? What’s your most effective way to muster up a muse?Did the place(s) you grew up in influence the people and/or places you write about?Are there any reoccurring themes in your writing? If so, do they surprise you?Characters: would you please tell me about your current favorite character? Which of your characters would you be friends with in real life?which characters would you dislike the most of you met them?Tell me about the process of coming up with your characters? Do you notice any reoccurring themes/traits in your characters?How do you picture your characters? My writing: what’s your reason for writing?Is there any specific comment or type of comment from readers that you find particularly motivating? How do you want to be thought about by your readers?What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?have you been told is your greatest strength as a writer is by others?How do you feel about your own writing?If you were the last person on earth, would you still write?When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, do you write purely for yourself, or is it a mix of both?

[candywraptor]

hey, why did you delete the radiodust fic from Alastor's POV? the companion to Ruin

Hello.

Well. It isn't deleted, it's just orphaned. If you didn't have it bookmarked, you can still find it linked through Ruin (last chapter, all the way at the bottom).

I did it that way so that it could still be found and so that people who enjoyed it could still have it but I hated seeing it in my list of works, honestly.

(for those who may be reading this and don't know - Lesser Things was originally posted without the "bad ending" or "sad ending" tags that it currently has now)

After it ended, I couldn't really write anymore. I went from writing for hours and hours, nonstop, everyday - to nothing. I could start but then it would feel like pulling teeth trying to get words on the page. Very, very luckily for me I was impatient and blondes was started before Lesser Things ended. If not for that, I think I possibly would have stopped altogether. But the chapters I put out for blondes did not come easy and I wasn't happy with them - my voice wasn't there. At least not to me.

This went on for several months.

Many people checked in on me during this time and I am very, extremely grateful to them. And I'm pretty sure I said some degree of "at least I can still write!" to all of them but I believe I was, uh - coping? I guess? Because I couldn't - not like I used to and not with any real pleasure. I was so afraid to make a mistake that I wouldn't try at all. Or I would start writing and get flooded with thoughts of whether or not what I was writing was "right". Anything I could manage to force out was so wooden and lifeless to me. I had come to know what it felt like when my brain was moving at the right flow and it was like someone had completely dammed up the current. It was just empty.

And I dreaded seeing Lesser Things in my works. It was a constant reminder of a very big mistake*. Every time I got a notification about it, my anxiety did somersaults. What really kicked it over was that I began feeling distressed when someone would read or comment on Ruin. I wanted to tell them not to - because inevitably it would lead them to Lesser Things and I didn't want someone else to be disappointed with me or have Ruin damaged for them. It was tagged correctly by then, yes, but I still felt a very strong, irrational fear over it.

So, in an effort to get away from all of that and try to start over, I orphaned it. I wanted to delete it, I'll be honest, but I hate the idea of removing something someone might love from existence and my friends agreed that orphaning it was kinder. So I made sure it was linked and tagged and set it free.

It did not help for a long while.

But then I talked with this person in the comments of Ruin - I am still not quite sure who they were - and for once I told them that I was angry for what I had lost and upset that the hobby that brought me new life was seemingly gone from me. I deserved to be corrected for the tagging - I needed to know that fanfiction does not work the same way as a novel or TV show and that what I saw as a spoiler was incredibly important for many readers - but the rest. . .I didn't deserve that. I simply didn't.

And it felt good to not try to be diplomatic and to be upset and honest about my feelings. After that, a friend reached out and we spent some time discussing it, also. Talking about how I really felt, allowing myself to believe that I didn't deserve the hate - something in my head just let go.

Now I can write again - to my own personal standards. I can do it for hours and, even better, I enjoy it. I have so many ideas now - I've gone from nothing to too much! I am still not as prolific as I once was but I am writing and having fun and that matters more than anything else.

I jumped ship, too. I think most people know that. My feelings on RadioDust are complex and I am still not exactly sure how I feel even now. I don't like looking at it but I don't hate it. Maybe ask me in a week and I do. Maybe ask me in another week and I feel nothing at all. Maybe many weeks or months or years from now you can ask that question and I'll say that I love it again. Who knows.

Anyway. . .

I'm sure you weren't looking for a novella but, hey, it was a complicated question.

In short - it isn't deleted. If you want it, you can find it. And as for why - because it was fucking with my head and I needed my head unfucked. That's the simplified version.

(*the mistake in question is not the content of the ending. Lesser Things ended how it was intended to end and it will always be that way. Period.)

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

❛ CHANGES ❜

with Marcus Alvarez.

Request: Maybe for a Marcus fic it could be his wife dealing with the transition from Mayans to the cartel and becoming friends with Emily and having play dates with their kids and Marcus is just proud of her for taking it so well. Thank you ❣️❣️❣️

BY ANON

Warnings: none.

Word count: exactly 1.2k

Aurora says: this writing hasn't been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I'm sorry about that!

Gif credits: to the author.

Masterlist.

You can subscribe to my broadcast list, to be notified whenever I post a writing!

Having a sip from the glass of red wine, you keep your gaze in the middle of nowhere. You can't stop thinking about your husband taking off his kutte and giving it to Obispo. The club is his life, but the problem in his knees won the battle. He has been very irritated since the doctor told him that he couldn't ride for too many hours as he used to. So, taking the advantage that he has gone to the clubhouse, you left your son with your sister, waiting to have a moment alone. Together.

You have been his anchor since you met him, when you were a mere mechanic who changed the tire of his bike, in a secondary road to Oaktown. Now, and since six years, you live in the surroundings of Santo Padre where the main charter is installed. Practically jumping off from the couch and leaving the glass of wine over the auxiliary table, you walk barefoot to the hall. Marcus is there, placing his black bag over the floor after closing the door. He looks devastated and unhappy, as you have never seen him before. And that, breaks your heart into a thousand pieces. Biting your bottom lip, you lead your steps close to him, raising your right hand to his chest. Caressing it slowly and shortening the distance between both, you hold him between your arms. Just a second after, he starts to cry inconsolable, clinged to your body.

You don't even know what to say, preferring to keep silent, slightly touching the back of his head with your fingertips and leaving some kisses on his temple. Having a deep breath, you cup his cheek in your hands, cleaning his tears and leaning on your tiptoes to reach his lips. A dearly kiss that looks like it calms him a little.

“I will always be by your side, amor mío”. You mutter, showing him that soft smile which he fell in love with many years ago. “And yes, I know that Mayans it's your life, but when one door closes, another one opens. Just… think about the good things that have that new opportunity. You used to complain about not sleeping, about missing my food, about missing your family…”

Maybe these aren't the best words, but you're trying hard to make him feel better.

“At least… I will see you often and… I will spend more time with Marcos”.

“Yeah, we miss our papi”. You nod pursing lips. “And tonight… I'm gonna spoil you. 'Caaause, our overactive son is having a fun night with his auntie, and I prepared you lasagna with five… not four, but five cheese and two bottles of red wine are getting cold in the fridge. And after dinner, we can have a relaxing bath, enjoying the silence of our home”.

“Thank you”. He just whispers, a little bit calmed.

“For taking care of you?”

“For supporting me like you do every single day, bad or good, no matter why”.

“Yeah, I've already earned a place in Heaven”. You chuckle kissing him again.

“Te amo con todo mi corazón”. (I love you with all my heart).

“So do I, papi”.

Stepping out of the black SUV, you have a quick look of the huge mansion in front of you. And you're sure that you have never seen a house so big, clean and good decorated. Closing the door of the car, you walk towards the backseat, to help your three years old to go down. Your husband is looking at you, with that kind of gesture that lets you know how much he is in love with you. Feeling proud of any single thing you do for him, just like now. Making the effort to meet Miguel and Emily, knowing that even if they're not to your liking, you will not complain. But he's aware that Galindo's wife and you will be good friends, being actually so similar because of your intelligence and your maternal instinct. Even if you're braver than her, because of life circumstances.

“Ready, pap—mi amor?” You say lifting up your son between your arms, coming closer to Marcus. “You look pretty good on a suit”.

“Do I?” He laughs, knowing what it means watching you leading your steps to the main door.

“Maybe I will need some advice later”. You whisper, after covering Marcos' ears for a second, making your husband chuckle somewhat relaxed.

Before the mexican can ring the doorbell, his new boss, and old friend, is already opening it to hold him in a gentle hug.

“Marcus, amigo. Mi padre estaría orgulloso de esta nueva alianza”. (Marcus, my friend. My father would be proud of this new alliance).

“Lo sé, Miguel”. (I know, Miguel). He says with a sincere smile on his lips, before turning at you, to place a hand on your lower back over the skirt of your black silk dress. “Mi hermosa e increíble esposa, (Y/N), y mi amado hijo, Marcos”. (My beautiful and amazing wife, and my lovely son).

“Es un placer conoceros al fin”. (It's a pleasure finally meeting you two). The younger man is directed to you, taking your free hand to kiss the back of it. “Come in. Come in, please”.

Even if you're the most curious woman in the world, you're trying to not look like that, keeping your gaze on close things and not traveling it around your position.

“Marcus!” A high-pitched voice from a blonde woman coming, pushes you out from your thoughts, guessing she must be Miguel's wife.

Watching Emily hug your man so dearly, makes you know that you will really be friends. She looks like a family person, just like you. One of those who enjoy a peaceful Sunday lying on the sofa with her husband and her son, maybe watching some TV show. But you're not really sure if Miguel is into this kind of plan. You're lucky that your husband is.

“Hi!” She says to you then. “Look at you, boy! You should be Marcos, right?”

Your son hides ashamed his face into your neck, making you all laugh softly, leaving a kiss on his head.

“Sorry, sometimes he's… like that”. You say, caressing his back as he clings his hands on your nape. “Marcos, say ‘hi’ to Emily”.

He just smiles with his wrinkled nose, closing his eyes.

“I'm (Y/N)”. You say then, offering her your right hand, waiting to be shaked in a formal salute. Even if it's not your style. But the woman shakes her head laughing, before hugging you. “Ah, sorry… I'm not used to…”

“It's okay”. She says, so kind that you already like her. “Do you want some coffee? We have peach juice for Marcos, if he wants too”.

“Eh, baby, you heard that? Your favorite”. You say, seeing him raises up his head nodding.

“Good, we have some… things to talk about them”. Your husband adds then, palming Miguel's back, before leaning towards you to kiss your forehead and his son's.

“Yeah, enjoy your business”. You tease him, pocking his nose. “We're gonna do funnier things”.

“I'm pretty sure about that”. Emily laughs, knowing what you are talking about.

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